#then i envy your innocence my sweet summer child

[jasper-the-menace]

#jasper post #tumblr polls #magic the gathering #deck building #if you don't know what mana fixing is #then i envy your innocence my sweet summer child

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Cryo Archon!Childe fucking his wife on their wedding night and he gets her pregnant? and he's a little yandereish like the way you write him? your work is sublime

Thank you~! I had fun writing this since I never once entertained Childe being a cryo archon but the image of him having the signature tip dyed hair was simply o(*////▽////*)q

In Snezhnaya with Love

Summary: Cryo Archon's most treasured and beloved possession was not his gnosis, but the Tsaritsa that was protected in the depths of the Zapolyarny Palace.

--

Of the current Seven, the Cryo Archon, the Tsar of Snezhnaya was famed for his glorious victories in the battlefield, a once human who vanquished gods when meeting gods and slayed demons when meeting demons. All Snezhnayans held their Cryo Archon with high regards, loved him and respected him for all the battles he had won for himself and that of Snezhnaya. They tell the story of their Archon, the second to ascend among the Original Seven, whose battle prowess was second only to Morax of Liyue.

Though no one knew their Tsar’s once mortal name, their were many monikers he went by at the times he paraded himself as a mortal; Tartaglia of the Harbingers when in Snezhnaya, Childe when in Liyue, Herrscher in Mondstadt, Wakasama in Inazuma, Le Seigneur in Fontaine, Bhagavan in Sumeru, and Kasike in Natlan. Thus, the people of Snezhnaya found no need to discover their Archon’s once name.

And you were one of them, you had no need nor want to know the Cryo Archon, the Tsar, beyond what he wanted his people to know. All that mattered was that you loved him just as your fellow countrymen did. Though you were no devout follower of the Tsar, despite your status as the heiress of 10 Noble Houses of Snezhnaya’s high society, you still carried yourself like one.

You were after all graced with his element, and your Uncle Pulcinella’s position in the Harbingers ensured that you brought no shame to the prestige of your bloodline and your status as a Cryo Vision Holder. You were the embodiment of your Archon’s ideals, Strength not only to protect one’s self and family but also to challenge the Divine.

It was the price you willingly paid to enjoy the privileges your vision and status granted you. Perhaps in another world you would have gone on and married someone not out of love but out of duty, but such thoughts flew out of the window that one summer day in Morepesok.

It had been a vacation for you, a rare moment of freedom from the prying and judging eyes of the world. You had been allowed to roam free in your Uncle Pulcinella’s vacation villa in the rural seaside village. It was one of the top tourist destinations in Snezhnaya, a town seemingly stuck in time, where the rest of Snezhnaya was filled with towering buildings and skyscrapers of metal and light, Morepesok retained the traditional houses of Snezhnaya.

A rare glimpse of the past long gone. It was during this trip that you had your fateful encounter with the young man, his orange hair with sky blue tips that gently swayed in the cold wind, and his piercing blue eyes that had taken your breath away.

He smiled at you, curious and just a touch of arrogance that let you know he knew he was handsome. Your cheeks flushed not from the cold but from embarrassment.

“Hey there, girlie~!” He called out as he trotted towards you, his hunter attire letting you know he was one of the hunters of Morepesok.

“He-hello” You greeted him back, soft and shy. Stuttering as you felt your heartbeat quicken with each step that he took towards you.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous in this area?” He asked you, eyes glinting with cold amusement and something in you wanted to rise to his unspoken challenge.

“Oh? Was there?” You replied, “With this being part of my uncle’s villa, I doubt that there is anything here that would be dangerous to me…”

His smile fades away and you continued, “Of course even if this part of the woods is no longer a part of his villa, other than our beloved Tsar’s ire, I would be the most dangerous creature out here.”

You punctuated your words with the masterful and powerful display of your control over Cryo. The frostarm lawachurl heading towards your location toppled over, the top of their head bleeding out from the spikes of cryo that burst out from their forehead. Their dying cry had the man before you looking back and his laughter echoed in the desolate winter forest of Morepesok.

“Hahahaha!” He laughed, hands on his stomach as he bent over “Amazing, comrade! This is the first time I’ve ever seen Cryo be used in such a way! Not even the Tsar was said to be that ruthless!”

You smiled at him, sweet and pleased at his praise, “Perhaps, our beloved Tsar has yet to meet an opponent that would make him use such cruelty.”

“Interesting, I’m Ajax of Morepesok. And you...must be Pulcinella’s treasured niece” His smile turned more genuine offering his hand to you he added, “Something tells me would get along most splendidly.”

And as you gave him your hand, he brought it close to his lips, kissing it gently and you knew, as the distant sound of the waves crashing into the shore sounded in the forest, that your first defeat was in the hands of this charming young man.

And it was your sweetest defeat, you spent most of your days in his cabin, an inheritance from his deceased family, your time split between sparring with him and going ice fishing. Each moment spent made you stronger, Ajax taught you in every weapon he knew. Each touch that corrected your stance sent shivers down your spine.

And neither of you shied away from the inevitable. His touches became less innocent, less sincere in teaching you. And you took every opportunity to have skinship with him, from taking advantage of the gentle cold air to asking for his help in reeling in the ridiculously large fishes in Morepesok.

Despite the never ending cold of Snezhnaya, the distance between you and Ajax slowly melted away with each shed of layer between the two of you. In his cabin, you were just a young maiden in love, and he was just your strong lover who sheltered you from the harshness of the world.

The domesticity of your everyday life with him lulled you into a false sense of comfort, the mornings and afternoons spent with him would come to an end. Maybe, it was the knowledge that you would never be able to return to this time, or perhaps it was your reluctance to be forgotten so easily that led to this point.

The moment Ajax had kissed you against his door, you had shed all pretense of propriety. You kissed him back, tongue entangling with his as his hands ventured down and began divesting you of your clothes. Neither of you stopped kissing as your hand went to his pants and unbuckled his belt, his hydro vision dropping to the ground in sync with him removing your top that held your cryo vision.

You broke off to breath and found your neck being kissed as Ajax lifted you up and you let out a surprised gasp. Your arms automatically embraced his neck as he brought you upstairs and into his bedroom. You had no chance to look around as he gently placed you atop his soft bed.

His lips trailed down from your neck to the center of your chest down to your groin, leaving a soft trail of kisses before he began to eat you out.

Outside the window of his room, snow fell harshly and the windows softly shook with each gust of wind. Idly you wondered what had made the Tsar rage about but this thought was lost to the lust and pleasure of your love making with Ajax.

You laid on his chest, utterly spent as he curled his arm around you and gave you soft kisses atop your head. Neither of you spoke, unwilling to face the reality of your departure. But you were never one to falter from the things that you didn’t like.

You were always moving forward. Bravely facing whatever comes your way, be it life or love. So you broke the silence, because it was what you believed you owed him.

“I’m enlisting in the Fatui” Your voice soft, “This would be most likely the last time we would meet.”

You felt his hand on your waist tighten before it relaxed. You looked at him and was greeted by his warm smile.

“But not definitely” He said and your heart ached because you knew that even if you met him next time there was no chance for anything more.

“Ajax, the next time we meet, I will no longer be as I am today.”

“...”

His eyes grew cold and you found yourself underneath him, he looked at you darkly and foolishly you still found yourself lost in his beautiful eyes.

“We will meet again,” he said, voice hard and steely “and no one would be able to take you away from me.”

His kiss was hard and biting, cold and passionate, and for a moment you believed him.

“Promise me then,” You begged him as tears gathered in the edges of your eyes as you surrendered to him once more “promise me that you’ll wait for me, that you’ll fight for me and I’ll return to you and fight for you.”

“I promise” Ajax smiled, his coldness and anger melting away as he showered you with all of his love. Leaving traces of himself on you, marking you to proclaim his rightful ownership of you.

Enlisting in the Fatui and joining their ranks hadn’t been easy with the additional expectation being brought by your familial connection with one of the current Harbingers, and with that the hatred and envy of others. You didn’t care for it though, thoughts of Ajax and the life you’d have with him making it easier for you. Then again, the Fatui was a place where strength was respected and it was something you had in spades, from fighting abilities to scheming. You didn’t have the best leadership skills but that was something that could be slowly learned.

All in all, you had gritted your teeth, bore the difficulties, and slowly but surely made your way up in the ranks and into being a Harbinger. Innamorati, they called you and you it was a name you proudly wore. A name bestowed upon you by your beloved Cryo Archon, the Tsar with his bright orange hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Ajax.

It was surprising to see such a familiar and beloved face in that of the beloved Archon but you had learned to hide your emotions. But even as you walked away from him and went home to celebrate, the unmistakable pull you felt didn’t allow you to delude yourself completely.

You needed to see Ajax.

The trip to Morepesok was faster with the portable waypoint Ajax had made you. An easy temptation to meet him in the middle of your enlistment but one you never took. You wanted to prove yourself, and at the same time show him that you’d never easily cave, be it for him or for something else, you would keep your word. And maybe that was why the waiting figure of your Tsar, in Ajax’ clothes, had shaken your heart.

The winds howled and snow fell harshly, each step he took towards made you tremble whether it was from trepidation or something else you didn’t know but as he took a strand of your hair and held close to his lips you couldn’t help but call for him,

“Ajax?”

You felt at loss, not knowing how much of the days you spent with him were true, not knowing if his words had been meant. You wouldn’t be able to take it if it wasn’t.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, gently and comforting as he took you into his arms and held you tight enough that it hurt.

You didn’t know what to say, unable to put your feelings into words so you buried your face into his chest, held him just as tight with your trembling hands and begged him to understand what your heart wanted.

You never noticed how you remained unaffected by the cold, despite the howling winds and harshly falling snow that surrounded you. All you could think of was the feeling you held tightly as Ajax carried you inside his home, up to his bedroom and slowly but gently began to undress you.

You made no protest beyond the need to have your hand held by his. He had laughed, soft and gentle, at your clinginess but no less than pleased at it.

“I’d need my hand to properly undress you” He said even if he had no problem tearing your clothes off.

You gave him an unimpressed glance but nonetheless leaned close when he moved to take your panties off, you snuggled closer to him, holding his hand tighter. You felt your panties drop to your feet and you moved to take it off them. Ajax pushed you to sit and the bed, finding it adorable and pleasing how you easily complied.

Trusted him so much that you made no protest beyond the soft pout when he untangled your hands. He gently rolled your black thigh highs off your legs, raising one leg high to slowly and teasingly slide it off your smooth legs.

He smirked at seeing your pussy twitch ever so often, knowing that you were surely having lewd thoughts. So he pulled you closer by your legs until your pussy was just a scant few centimeters away from his face. Your breath hitched and you unconsciously wanted to close your legs but his hands stopped it and began the process of taking off your remaining thigh highs. The process barely took a minute but it felt so long that you were ready to beg him.

When your thighs were freed from your thigh highs, you spread your legs, fingers going towards your labia and spreading it wide for him to see.

“Please?” You begged, voice soft and cute as you showed him your glistening wet pussy.

And Ajax, had never been one to deny you. Spoiling you with gifts and affection until you were drunk and dizzy from it. His mouth pressed close to your cunt, tongue licking the outside, circling your clit before it made its way in. He ate you like the sweet treat that you were, holding your thighs securely as you writhed on the bed with pleasure, moans growing louder and louder with each passing minute until you were crying for release.

He was relentless in teasing you, calloused hands teasing your clit before stopping when you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“Ajax~” You cried his name, moaning and panting as his fingers fucked you “please le—ahh!”

“Aren’t you my most devoted Harbinger?” He teased, “Surely you can hold on until I order you to come?”

You nod your head with slight hesitation but it was something Ajax could forgive seeing how you were feverish with want and your earlier words of begging for his cock.

His fingers went in and out of your pussy, each thrust accompanied by the squelch of your slick, his saliva and the hydro that coated his fingers. Your pussy loosened with each passing minute as he alternated his attention to your sweet cunt and your cute clit.

When he had deemed you loose enough, he stood up and freed his cock from the tight and uncomfortable confines of pants, he let his pants and briefs drop to the floor before he climbed the bed and in one smooth motion, plunged his cock into your waiting wet pussy.

“Cum” He ordered and you did, voice a sweet melody to his ears as he fucked you through your orgasm, the loud creaking of the bed and the sound of the head board as it repeatedly slammed on the wall made you aware of your situation, as the haze of lust slightly lifted.

It didn’t do much beyond making you want to hold his hand which Ajax did, held your hand as he repeatedly rammed his cock into your pussy, slowly reaching your depths with each thrust of his cock until he let out his cum inside you, spilling it deep inside your pussy that Ajax knew that there wasn’t any impossibility you wouldn’t end up pregnant.

He softly fell on top of you, caging you beneath him as you hugged his muscular back and simply existed in that moment. His cock remained inside of you and the feeling of being connected in such a way, on having all of him touching your skin, the soft sound of his ragged breaths and his scent mixing with the smell of sex that pervaded your nose anchored you in this precise moment.

Where the world felt like it had melted away leaving the two of you alone. Neither a monarch and his subject nor a god and its believer. Just you and him, as lovers.

“Did you really mean it?” You asked, soft and preparing for the worst.

“Yes,” He answered, voice equally soft as he squeezed you tight, he continued “I meant every I love yous I said to you, every promise made.”

He kissed you on your neck, on the vein that betrayed your heart’s quick pulse. He inhaled your scent which he had missed so dearly, remembering the nights he had spent thinking of you, wondering what you were doing. The nights he laid awake missing your warmth on his side, the afternoon naps where he held you close to his heart.

He watched from afar as you slowly and steadily made your way up in the ranks, each battle won and lost that slowly shaped you into a Harbinger. He thought of the days that made him want to simply steal you away, lock you in his room until you forgot your family, your duty, and only had him in your mind.

But he stopped himself, he knew that doing so would make you lose the shine that had entranced him, he would lose the you that he came to love. The you that was bound by duty both self-imposed and ones imposed by society. So he waited, until the day came when you stood before him, surprise hidden well but he was Ajax, he was your Cryo Archon, he was your lover whom you eagerly wrote every week.

So he knew your tells better than anyone else, knew the moment it clicked in your mind, saw the trepidation behind your eyes and Ajax wouldn’t have that. He had promised you after all, and he was one to keep promises.

Even if one day you wanted to leave him, he wouldn’t allow you. He had a promise to keep after all.

In the depths of Zapolyarny Palace was a room where the Tsaritsa, the Tsar’s most beloved wife resided. It was a room filled with splendor and grace, the best and most beautiful artworks and gadgets decorated the room.

It was a room that the Tsar loved the most, and thus it was the most important room in the Palace. The best of the Fatui sans the Harbingers guarded the doors that led to the halls of the room. It was strictly guarded and meant to ensure that not a single thing would be stolen from the room.

It was after all where you resided, a place where the Tsar designated as his home. His personal haven from courtly matters and godly duties. And today was no exception, every day you spent on the room was reliving your wedding night.

The soft silk sheets that you felt on your back, the white lacy lingerie that you wore underneath your wedding gown. It’s tiny slits that showcased your exposed and erect nipples, the your cum filled pussy that dripped with your husband’s thick cum that was always replenished multiple times in a day. The soft clink of the chains that held your wrists and had your legs spread widely. The familiar sensation of your collar that held your Cryo vision, a mark of his favor and love, a seal that ensured you would remain his until you drew your last breath. The soft cotton of your blindfold had enhanced your other senses beyond compare, making you hyper aware of everything that was happening in the room.

The familiar footsteps on the warm carpet of your bedroom, the familiar rustle of his clothes as it fell softly on the ground, cape first, shirt second, belt next and lastly his pants. His warm calloused hands gently caressing the insides of your thighs.

The same routine, repeated every day at different times since you married him. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he blindfolded you, how long you had spent with him, the days blurred as he never removed your blindfold.

He took you apart every time and mended you back, fucking you over and over again until he felt satisfied, until your pussy felt raw, until you were begging him for sweet release, until you lifelessly laid on his chest enjoying the feel of his hard cock being warmed by your cunt.

Your apprehension melted away with each fucking, with each release of his seed inside you, until you could only demand more of his time, more of his attention, more of his cum filling you up.

You loved when he was rough with you, the harsh and loud clinks of the chain as you moaned wantonly, begging him to cum inside you, to use you as he saw fit. And each time he went along with your wishes, fulfilling each and every demand you asked of him.

You kissed him with everything that you were, unrestrained by duty or dignity, only knowing what you want as you rubbed your naked and marked body against his, you weren’t the dignified or noble Tsaritsa the public knew. In this room filled with the most prized treasures of the Tsar, you were his most precious slut.

A slut that opened your legs for him alone, a slut that presented your ass and pussy to him with eager eyes hidden by a blindfold. A slut that couldn’t wait to be filled to the brim. It was his duty, his calling as a husband and as your lover to fulfill your needs, to ram his cock again and again inside your loose pussy that held so much of his cum even when your stomach was already showing.

It was his duty to ensure that you, his lewd wife, would be filled with his cum, from your pussy, to your asshole, to those pretty pink lips that eagerly wrapped itself on his cock. He loved how you didn’t care where he fucked you in the room. He loved how different you acted depending on whether he was ramming his cock inside you on the bed, or fucking you in front of the window.

He loved the way you moaned when the table digged on your hips, the way you grasped at the cover as he slid his dick in and out of your loose pussy, cum spilling down your thighs and pooling on the floor. He loved how slutty you could get when being fucked in the bathtub, water sloshing as you repeatedly slammed your pussy down his cock, moaning loud enough that some of it undoubtedly could be heard behind the thick doors of your room.

He loved the sounds you made, pleased and eager, as he fucked your mouth in front of the fireplace, your naked body sitting on the floor while a Cryo dildo repeatedly slammed inside your pussy.

He loved you when your stomach began showing signs of pregnancy, growing big with each passing week and yet you remained unaware, or perhaps you paid it no mind.

He couldn’t tell if you were genuinely happy with the arrangement but as long as you remained by his side, happily doing what he wants, whispering I love yous and adoration in his ears. Eagerly kissing him good morning and good bye, Ajax didn’t put any thought on it.

On the ninth month of your pregnancy, the blindfold was taken off, you looked at him with love and the unmistakable look of longing.

“I missed you!” You told him, eagerly running up to hug him, and plaster your entire naked body, cum dripping down between your legs, to his.

He laughed at you, amused and loving and gently held you close, “You shouldn’t run so quickly, you’re carrying our child after all.”

You nod, and look at your bulging stomach, hand instinctively rubbing it.

“I hope this child will look just like you!”

“Is that so?” He asked a pensive look in his eyes as he rubbed your stomach.

“Yes! How lovely would it be to see a child version of you? A mini-you calling me mother!”

He smiled at you fondly, pleased to know that you still loved him. He kissed you lovingly on your lips and whispered, “As you wish.”

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #cryo!archon childe #genshin impact x reader #yandere childe x reader

[beth-march]

the only light we’ll see - ch 1

Summary:

The summer that Rue relapses, two guilt stricken friends turn to each other for solace, and find something more along the way.

A/N:

This is the start of the fic where Fez and Lexi are in an established relationship all throughout Season 1. Please let me know if you would like me to post all future chapters on Tumblr or if you’re happy reading on Ao3 :-)

Read on Ao3 here or under the cut

The girl wears a ribbon in her hair.

It is silk lilac, and it flutters in her gentle brown waves. She is honeyed by the summer sunlight, enveloped by a faint golden glisten. For a fleeting moment, Fezco considers how she is haloed, considers her sweet, pretty face, and is reminded of an angel.

She looks very much out of place on his doorstep. She bears no resemblance to any other person who has lingered there before. She even looks out of place next to Rue, and if not for the way that she clings close to Rue, Fez might have assumed that the girl had wound up at his house by complete mistake.

“Hey there,” Fez greets, opening the screen door.

“Hey, Fez!” Rue says, her grin already wicked. “This here is my friend, Lexi. We’re about to get her stoned for the first time. You gotta hook her up on that good, hard shit, you catch my drift? We’re really gonna fuck her up.”

In an instant, alarm blossoms rosy on Lexi’s little face.

“What?!” she yelps, turning to her friend. “That’s not what you said!”

Rue bursts out laughing, and Fez is stolen by a frown. He has no idea what she is thinking, bringing someone like Lexi around to his place. It seems unlikely that the girls even know each other, let alone like each other. Lexi, who shines with innocence and demurity, and who coordinates the colour of her hair ribbon with her lacy cardigan and the flowers on her dress, does not strike Fez as the kind of person Rue would keep company in. Curiosity rises, a question of how they came to be friends, of how they have managed to stay friends - if the sad, annoyed look on Lexi’s face is any indication, Fez has an inkling that it has involved a lot of quiet tolerance of this kind of teasing.

“Come on, now, Rue, leave the poor girl alone,” Fez huffs, throwing Lexi an apologetic look. “What you really want?”

“Well, I do want weed, but it’s not for Lexi. You got anything for me?”

There is no reason to feel strange about this. Not when it happens every other week, and it is clear that Lexi has no doubts about what it is that Fez does for a living.

Qualms, in all likelihood, but not doubts.

Fez pushes aside whatever trepidation he feels about handing product over in Lexi’s proximity, and steps aside from the door, ushering the girls inside. It is always very informal with Rue, and he wonders if this somehow improves the sheer shadiness of everything. He wonders why it is that he even cares.

“Thanks, Fez,” Rue says, stashing the bags away with an impishness to suggest that she’s a child who has just been gifted chocolate, and intends to eat it before dinner.

(Of course, she’s spoiling a lot more than her appetite. The thought occurs to him, but it does not feel like his own - he hears it in Lexi’s voice. He can see the pensive quality to her expression, the worry in her doe eyes, and he almost envies it, the luxury she has in wearing her emotions on her sleeve.)

“I’m just gonna use your bathroom, and then we’ll be out,” Rue adds, dropping her bag, twisting around in pursuit of his hallway.

“Rue,” Lexi hisses, trying for discretion, but Fez hears her. He understands why she doesn’t want to be left alone with a stranger, especially with the connotations of him being a drug dealer, but it still saddens him, to watch her posture stiffen.

But she is polite, even if she is nervous. She turns on her heel, offers Fez a smile.

“Um,” she says, uncertainly. “You have a really nice home.”

It is probably the last thing Fez expects her to say. It is surprising, what follows in his chest, a stirring of something foreign, something strangely soft.

“Shit, you think so?” Fez asks. “I know it’s kinda a trip, feels like you stepped in a time machine. But my grandma decorated it, so I didn’t wanna change nothin’.”

“Oh,” Lexi says. She sounds just as surprised by his answer as he had been by her question.

“So, how’s your summer goin’?” he adds, leaning against the wall.

“It’s good!” she answers, folding her hands over her front. “I mean, it’s been quiet, but I don’t mind the quiet. I’ve been doing a lot of reading. It feels like I never have time to read for pleasure during the school year, so it’s been good to have the chance to work through my reading list - and, well, you don’t really care about all that.”

Her brief ramble dies amidst frantic chuckles, and Fez is confused by the way she has wilted, by the way that her thin shoulders have shrunk in on themselves.

“Sure I do,” he says. “I get what you mean. You on break, you got time for you, you got time to be quiet. I like that, too. Like to have some peace, when I can.”

The worry disappears, and is replaced by something thoughtful. “I suppose you wouldn’t really get many breaks, though, would you?”

“No the fuck I don’t,” Fez says, sighing, but he grins, so she knows he’s making light of it. A Mondays, right? type of joke, something mundane and reminiscent of work day drudgery, something she can maybe relate to.

Lexi smiles, too, and it is only a small curve, but it is radiant. She still has her arms wound around herself, and she ducks her chin, curling up tighter. Fez doesn’t know what to make of her - how she seems so quick to emerge and then delve back into her shell every few seconds - but he does know that he likes her smile.

“Can I ask you something kind of… personal?” Lexi asks, in a hush.

“Go ahead.”

“Are most of your clients like Rue?”

“What you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Lexi admits, faltering. “I guess… Erratic? Unpredictable?”

Fez tries not to laugh. “You ain’t spendin’ much time around drug users, I take it?”

There’s wry humour in her expression. It is endlessly intriguing.

“No, I know,” she assures him. “I’m not stupid, I know. But this is Rue. I’ve known her forever, and she’s always had, well, difficulties, in her life, but I’ve never seen her like this before. I’m worried about her. Like, really worried.”

It comes bursting out of her, a wave of salt, and it furls around them like sea foam, enveloping them in her sadness. It is quiet in this hallway, and their window is passing, and Fez can see the desperation in this stranger. She has found a person to speak to about a matter she has been holding close to her heart for far too long.

He wants to reassure her.

“It’s only weed, I sold her today,” he says.

“But that’s not the only thing you’ve sold to her, is it?” Lexi asks. It’s not quite accusatory, her tone, and he doesn’t think she means to insult him personally - but the implication is inevitable, when she’s confiding in him about how scared she is of a friend being pierced, and he is the one who is handing over the sharp objects.

Like an intrusion, Rue returns, and she slips an arm around Lexi. She is so much taller than Lexi, and Fez wonders if it is because she is particularly tall or because Lexi is particularly short. He knows it’s the former, because Rue can look him in the eye without difficulty, but he’s still struck by Lexi’s littleness. Endeared to it, even.

“Thank you, Fez! You’re the best,” Rue sing-songs, already steering Lexi towards the front door. “Until next time, I bid you fuckin’ adieu - ”

“Yo, wait up,” Fez says, trailing after them. He is worried about Lexi’s worry, because he might not know her, but she has bestowed it upon him, and now it will stay with him, he knows it will linger.

“Sorry, Fez, places to go, people to see, you know how it is!” Rue says.

He has a new idea of what Lexi means by erratic. It seems emphasised, all of the sudden, as he watches Rue tug Lexi away, back towards their bikes. The pace she picks is fast, and the hold she has on her friend seems tight, severe.

Lexi turns for a final look at him over her shoulder, and her hair swishes around her shoulders in her movement. Fez supposes that she doesn’t expect him to be looking at her, because she quickly goes red, quickly turns away from him.

Fez makes haste to disappear, as well. But he watches from the window, as the girls take off on their bikes. He watches Lexi, fixates on her hair ribbons as they ripple in the breeze. He considers the ends, cut pristine like lavender snake tongues.

True to his prediction, the worry lingers.

-

Three weeks later, Rue overdoses.

There’s gossip about it at a party, and at first, Fezco dismisses it. People are talking about Rue having died, and that seems melodramatic enough to ignore it completely. It isn’t until he overhears Cassie Howard whispering to her friends about how distraught her little sister, Lexi, is, that Fez realises there must be substance to it.

The breath escapes his throat, and the haze of the party becomes overwhelming. In the calamity of his sudden anguish, Fez finds a getaway, slips from the house to settle on the back steps that lead out into the garden.

Inside, the party goes on, and it seems absurd, that life could go on, when a girl he knows, a girl he loves, has almost died. Vermilion lights shine through the windows and stain the leaves of the nearby trees with a sickly gloss.

The pictures come and won’t leave. Rue, tangled on the floor, in her sheets, covered in vomit, covered in a grey tinge. Fez doesn’t know the details, and wishes he did in the same instant of his gratitude not to know. He wants far away from this, and he wants to be in the middle of it, he wants to be the one to help.

He wants to help, where before he has only hurt.

“Fuck,” he says softly. “Rue.”

-

Lexi Howard strides into his store, and under any other circumstances, Fez thinks he would be happy about it. The girl had certainly left an impression on him, with her doe eyes, her bright smile, and the way she had let her compassion flow.

But she is so dolorous it envelopes her. She is ostentatious with it, her eyes puffy, her mouth wobbly. She wears her hair in two plaits, exposing her youth, and there isn’t any makeup on her face but she’s no less pretty than she was the day he met her.

Her hands are stiff by her sides. The way they curl holds a quiet violence of her own.

“You here to have it out with me?” Fez greets her, with a weary smile.

“No,” Lexi says, around a heavy breath. “I’m here for someone who understands.”

Surprise unfurls, and he cannot obscure it. She should hate him, the way that he has come to hate himself, since he has realised what he has done.

“And you chose me?”

“I mean, I wish you hadn’t dealt to her,” Lexi says. “Obviously, I wish that. I wish that none of this had ever happened. But it did. And it’s not like you had a way of knowing. It’s not like you’re close to her, it’s not like you know her.”

It takes him a moment to process this. There was always the chance that it might end this way. There were probably warning signs he could have picked out, especially after Lexi expressed her concern. Instead, he had done nothing.

His guilt is something with teeth, something that gnaws at his insides and refuses to relent. But indulging his guilt seems selfish, inconsequential in the face of what has happened to Rue. So he keeps it to himself, grapples with it on his own.

Until now. Until he has found himself faced with this girl.

“That’s where you wrong,” Fez sighs. “I do know her. Thought I did, anyway.”

“Fine then, fuck you,” she says.

It’s a weak joke, but it takes him off guard, and it is so incongruous, from what he knows about Lexi, that he still laughs. The sound tumbles out helplessly.

“That make you feel any better, kid?”

There are tears in her eyes, as she shakes her head. She brushes the first glaze away with her thin, graceful fingers, trying to hide that she is crying, but her voice pinches when she speaks, giving away how close she is to outright whimpering.

“No,” she tells him. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you good. You’re just playin’. But I wouldn’t be mad if you were for real.”

Something seems to dawn on her, and she regards him with curious eyes.

“Are you… feeling alright?” Lexi asks.

What a question. He thinks to nod his head yes, to shake his head no, on mumbling something vague, and settles on simply staring at her, offering an answer with the depth of trouble in his eyes. He hopes she doesn’t mind the blue gore.

He finds strange confidence in what he sees flickering in her gaze. An understanding, of sorts, an unshakeable thought of something shared.

“What about you?” he asks.

“I’m just…” Lexi spills with an incredulous laugh. “Rue has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I don’t even recognise her. I don’t know what the fuck happened to her. Or what the fuck happened to me. Why didn’t I tell her mom? I was planning on it for weeks, I even told her I was going to - but the moment she said something mean to me, the second I got my fucking feelings hurt, I caved.”

It is quick to make sense. Her guilt has teeth, too.

How unjust, when she is innocent in all this. Fez rushes to make her understand.

“You don’t gotta take any of that shit on, alright?” he tells her. “Rue made the choices she made. You can’t control addicts, you can’t make them stop, it’s on them. It fuckin’ sucks, but that’s the way shit goes, and there ain’t another way around it.”

She stares. In the quiet, he notices the shape of her throat, the shift of her breathing, how it seems to come quicker.

“I’m sorry if that ain’t what you wanna hear.”

“No, it’s okay. It makes sense. But I just… I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Unbidden, his feet move, tilting towards her.

“It’s not,” Fez tells her, gently. “There really wasn’t nothin’ you coulda done. On God, and I wouldn't say that for no reason.”

The way that Lexi smiles tells him plenty about her appreciation. She brushes more at her eyes, the sadness they seep, and she asks hoarsely, “Do you think Rue’s gonna be okay?”

(He has no idea. He hadn’t even realised she is a proper addict. He is terrified.)

“Oh, for sure,” Fez says. “That is one wily kid. I just know she gon’ be back on her feet in fuckin’ no time at all, causing trouble again before we know it.”

Lexi manages a laugh, and that he’s drawn it from her becomes his best accomplishment of the day. Fez wants to capture the sound, the sound of sunlight, and keep it woven in the air, a bit of brightness to alleviate the perpertual burdens.

“Thank you, Fezco,” she whispers. “I didn’t think I could feel better, but…”

“That’s aight, you’re welcome,” he says, and offers her a small smile. She is shy, and it is making him feel shy, too. It seems a strange way for empathy to form.

But it is not unwelcome.

“I’m sorry,” Lexi adds, twisting her hands together. “I probably shouldn’t have barged in on you like this. I’m sure you have work to do.”

“Yeah, shit’s wild, right about now,” Fez says, nodding at the empty rows. It drags out another laugh, and that makes his smile broaden. “For real, though, I don’t mind you comin’ here. You can stick around a while, if you want.”

There is surprise in her eyes, a kind of wide eyed hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

There is no hesitation, for him.

“Not at all.”

“Okay,” Lexi says. And the beauty of her hopeful smile feels like a beginning.

#fexi fic

[avocaguk]

—Where does your love lie?

PAIRING HISTORIA REISS X GN READER

GENRE fluff <3, hint of angst (just a lil sprinkle i promise), me trying to cope from szn4 if you squint

WARNING very slight s4 mentions!

requested by: anon!

↦ You show Historia your love through the (attempted) task of braiding your daughter's hair.

Early mornings, much like this one, have always conflicted Historia Reiss' full head of molten-blonde hair with whispering thoughts. It starts with a bittersweet feeling that freezes her fingertips, and just like an itch she can’t get rid of, it melts into a river of uneasiness that spreads with a deadly warmth; the kind that fills your ribs with pressure, every intake of air crushing her chest with the same pulsing aches the heart is desperately trying to conceal.

The roseate sun kisses the horizon, waiting patiently for the world to wake up as it's gentle rays cover everything in gold, including Historia's doll-like porcelain complexion. She finds the intense warmth quite pleasant. Every once in a while, the dawn that accompanies the changing skies gifts the sunrise with a cool breeze, tickling the tip of her nose when strands of her hair flow by.

However, the beauty of the faun and flora awakening from slumber isn't enough to keep her thundering thoughts at bay.

Historia props both of her legs up towards her chest. She lazily rests her chin atop her knees and heaves a heavy sigh.

"Come home," she mumbles, unenthusiastically blowing the daffodil in front of her. "Please, let them come home."

Her eyes glaze over the array of colours buzzing alive in the scene before her: Rolling green hills covered in beautiful flowers that seem to never end, sturdy mountains in the distance casting a slight frost into the summer air and the line of green trees reaching out into the horizon to meet the dazzling water. For a place full of pain and betrayal, the land they live upon seemed to be a sight holding nothing but freedom.

With a gentle hand placed over her heart, Historia thinks about her friends— her family, that travel days away from the other side of the ocean. She thinks about their training days, each of the cadets holding young hopeful eyes yearning to learn the wonders of the world.

Of the world outside the walls, that is.

She thinks about how the flower-ridden field she lays in used to be the dream Eren and Armin would constantly babble over, a forgiving love filling their hearts before the pain of growing up extinguished the light in their eyes.

Historia figures that Armin, whether it be the grown man now or the lost boy back then, would be delighted to see a sight like this. To bask in fields of green with the sun caressing sweet kisses on your skin, much like the comfort a mother would bring to a child. He never got the chance, however. Instead, they spent a handful of years conditioning their hearts into steel, and while they fought day after day, Historia spent each waking morning bearing the burden of wearing the crown.

It's been a long four years. The scouts have made remarkable advancements for Paradis' technology, and now the ones she suffered with throughout her adolescence fight another battle in a faraway land, Marley. She wonders if they'll come home with smaller numbers than they left with, or if they'll even come home at all.

The idea brings a bitter taste in her mouth.

Historia pushes the thought away.

She gently stands up to dust off her light brown skirt, pressing her lips together into a struggling grin, deciding that endlessly worrying would not change anything. Instead, she sighs deeply and puts a soft smile on her face.

The birds chirp charmingly, and that's when Historia knows it's time for breakfast.

Merchants and nobles alike endlessly fawn over the luxury of living inside the castle, the marvellous pillars of marble casting an envy on the mundane as the building is tucked away within the walls of the capital. 

The Queen herself finds it quite beautiful, but there’s a certain sense of familial simplicity that the stone cottage just outside Wall Maria enchants upon Historia.

She’s always preferred places like this-- a home like this, rather than the massive hallways that fill the castle. They squirm with servants and guards in every corner, but they feel as lonely as the winter that cools the iron framing. 

The worn-out pebbles that weave a path towards your shared cottage is a sight that Historia knows all the well. A gentle chuckle bubbles in her chest while a small grin pulls the corners of her mouth, the basket filled with flowers bobbing left to right on her arm once she walks a bit faster. She feels the freedom of wearing ordinary clothes, grass tickling her ankles instead of the royal shoes that also happen to be a royal pain in the ass, and the sweetness of wind running through her hair rather than the constricted feeling of having it slicked back. 

Here, Historia feels free of any weight on her shoulders. 

Here, she feels the same as she did when she finally introduced herself as Historia Reiss to the scouts she learned to call family. 

She didn’t need to be the Queen in the meadows outside the walls. She only needed to be another person living here, existing here, breathing here. Just another person bearing the title of a mother, a friend and a lover.

Historia reaches to turn the doorknob, however she finds that it’s already opened as it creaks slowly. The smell of freshly baked bread basks in the air, and the crackle of the firewood tickles her ears. Her mug of coffee remains untouched on the wooden table, and all the chairs haven’t seemed to be moved. The floorboards croak lowly as she shuts the door behind her, a gentle hum accompanying the thud that sounds once Historia sets the flower basket down. 

“I’m home!” She calls out, opening the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. Historia skillfully takes the bread out of the furnace and places it next to the eggs. “Breakfast is ready, my loves.” 

She expects to hear the usual footsteps tapping across the floor, small giggles of excitement breaking the silence of early mornings once you and your daughter prepare to wreak havoc on the day. However, it doesn’t come today. 

You should have been awake by now, Historia thinks. Ymir, Historia’s daughter, has never been much of an early bird either, but the both of you have always been awake to greet the bubbly blonde returning from her morning trips. Now that it comes to mind, Historia comes to notice that she hasn’t seen the pairing around these days. She figures you’ve been off to your daily shenanigans, but even then you’d make a grand appearance just to bug her for the fun of it. 

“The eggs are going to get cold!” Historia sings teasingly, attempting to lure you two out from wherever you and Ymir were scheming from. A pout is Historia’s response to the silence she gets as an answer. Sighing curiously, she heads off to the hallway. 

Historia sneakily peeks her head into the two main rooms, expecting a certain four-year-old to pop up and scare her, but to no avail, they’re just as empty as they sounded to be. Historia nearly decides to check the flower fields just outside the cottage, though her steps are hastily redirected once she sees the familiar candle light shining through the crack of the last door down the hallway. 

She grins and quickens her cautious steps. You always forget to blow the candle out in the morning, so the room Historia skips towards is her best bet at finding the person--and toddler-- that warm her heart.

The young woman is ready to burst through the door, a playful shout waiting at the tip of her tongue, though she abruptly stops in her tracks at the sound of hushed whispers. With light feet, Historia places her hand on the door as she stares in from the slight opening. 

“Can you please go any faster? I think my hair is going to fall out!” Ymir whines as she sits with her legs criss-crossed on the wooden floor. “I promise it’ll look nice, I just know it!” 

Historia slightly pushes the door wider to get a better peak, and she finds you sitting at the edge of the bed with Ymir snuggled in the space between your lap. 

“Stay still, Ymir,” You sigh hopelessly, “you know your mother does it better.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know. I’m sure mama would like it, cause she likes you so that means she has to like it, right?” Ymir groans sassily, dramatically swaying her body as your hands tag along, clumsily gripping the three strands of hair slipping between your fingers. 

“Mama always tells me to ask for help when I need to, so why don’t ya ask her? I think your braids are turning my hair into knots.” Ymir pouts. 

A slight frown appears on your face after your daughter’s snarky comment, but you can���t deny the light laugh that follows afterwards. “I just thought it’d be nice to do your hair, sweetheart.” Your fingers take turns intertwining the strands of hair into a pattern, “Besides, I think I’m getting better.”

Ymir grumbles lowly and throws her small hands in the air, “You’ve been saying that for three days now!” 

Historia bites her lip to prevent a laugh slipping out, warmth shining in her eyes as she thinks about the two of you sneaking off to practice doing a simple braid. 

The progress you had with Ymir’s requested hair-do quickly disappears (along with your hopes) once her hair slips out of your fingers, the poor excuse of a braid you’ve made effortlessly spiralling back to where you started. “Alright, Ymir, you win,” you shake your head and giggle, “I think it’s time to ask your mother for some help.” 

Ymir smirks triumphantly, rising up to kiss you on the cheek. “I still think it’s nice of you to try. Maybe I can practice on you one day!” 

Historia thinks that’s her cue to join in. She enters the room with an innocent giggle. “Now, what have you two been up to?” She crosses her arms across her chest as you quickly shoot up from the bed.

“Y-Ymir was just telling me a story, Historia,” You stutter, a hand snaking up to rub your nape. A light blush flushes the apples of your cheeks, “--and good morning, love.”

“No I wasn’t, you liar!” Ymir interjects, wiggling her eyebrows while pointing to her ruffled scalp, “Mama, don’t you see this braid! It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

You and Historia blankly stare at the lump of twisted hair sitting atop Ymir’s head, her shining eyes waiting to get a reaction out of the shorter blonde. 

Historia looks back at you, pride filling her chest despite the embarrassment that splatters across your cringing face. She smiles brightly at Ymir. “It’s lovely, dear. How about I finish the other side?”

Ymir nods excitedly and plops herself down in the same spot. Historia stands over the both of you, her arms sneaking over your shoulders as her strands of her golden hair brush against you. A familiar tune fills the air, Historia humming sweetly as her hands get to work. You watch her fingers skillfully pull your daughter’s hair into a beautiful braid, smiling softly at the manner in which your morning started. 

You never fail to notice the flowery, fresh scent that wafts in the air because of Historia, or the warmth her small frame emits. As Historia finishes up the braid, you think of all the ways Historia looks after family and friends alike.

Where does your love lie? You wonder as you tilt your head back to look at her ocean blue eyes. 

Ymir and Historia’s giggles fade into the background once you find your answer. 

In her fingertips, you figure, her love lies in her fingertips.

Historia’s love lies in her fingertips, from the way her warmth and care flows out from her hands to twist Ymir’s hair into a stunning pattern, to the way it feels when her fingers brush your cheek. You figure her love pulses from the palm of her hands, a silent affection engraved in the flowers she picks or the food she cooks. 

You think of how the scouts felt, knowing it was Historia’s hand who reached out to help whenever trouble awaited. The amount of wounds that have been tended to, or the simple act of holding another in her arms to show all the love that couldn’t be said. You realize the way in which her love doesn’t stop there, knowing that it flows from her fingertips all the way to the core of her being. 

Historia loves entirely, freely, without shame. You’ve come to learn that the first place it comes to show is in her hands. 

“Are you alright, love?” She asks, petting your head softly once you realize you spaced out. 

“Better than I could ever be.” You smile.

The sight of the sunlight shining upon her is something you’ll engrave into your memory. Historia giggles as she pulls both of you in for a warm hug.

She decides that she has no problem waiting for the scouts to return as long as you two are here. 

_____________

ahhh so sorry this took longer than expected! anyway, thank u for checking this piece out and i hope it brough sum sunshine especially after the latest episodes recently <3

#aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #writing #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #historia reiss #historia #historia aot #christa lenz #some angst #fluff #historia x reader #x reader #gn reader #soft #ily all #historia fanfic

[anboringday]

A Date With Lenny | Part 3

Pairing: Lenny Summers x F!reader/OC

Summary: Lenny and his lover spends some quality time together in Valentine. Head over heels for one another, things get heated between the two rather quickly ;) 

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: NSFW/Explicit

Read on ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Arms linked, Lenny and I sauntered out of the crowded saloon. It was a lively night in Valentine, a constant stream of interested visitors trotted through on horseback. Fellers loitered outside the stores, laughing and chatting boisterously. Penned pigs squealed, stray dogs panted in the heat, and chimes rung as doors opened. The noise and activity of the teeming little town was disorderly and loud, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quaint. The people here were unfettered, spirited, and unapologetically free.  

Normally, I felt rather small and out of place in the company of strangers, but with Lenny beside me, all my silly fears and insecurities melted away. He escorted me through town in his black brushed cotton vest and matching trousers, his shirt and neckerchief both a pristine white. And god, he looked damn fine too, putting every other man in attendance to shame. Ever so often, the women that crossed our path would stare, sometimes tripping over their own feet as they took in his remarkably handsome face.

But he was all mine, and I made it known to the world by keeping my arm hooked possessively around his. Occasionally rubbing his strong shoulders. Stroking his toned biceps. He’d return the affection by showering my cheeks with tiny, playful kisses as we strolled aimlessly along Valentine’s dirt road. We had no destination in mind, no grand plans, or schedules to keep. We were simply enjoying each other’s company, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Cradling a flask of whiskey to his chest, Lenny took a swig. “See, the saloon wasn’t so bad, right? We ate a full course, top-notch quality meal in absolute peace, undisturbed—no bar fights, and only a few drunken bastards got rowdy and ruined the mood. Usually it’s much worse.”

“We have to keep a low profile,” I muttered. “We’re lucky no one recognized you.”

“Have you forgotten that I am the living embodiment of luck—” He tripped over a rock and tumbled clumsily, landing on his backside with a rough thud.

My heart skipped a beat. “Lenny!” I hovered over him. “Are you okay?”

With the cutest, goofy grin plastered to his face, he patted himself down for injuries. “No broken bones…I’ll live, I reckon.”  

His wide, bright smile was contagious. Holding the hem of my flowy skirt, I crouched to his level and surveyed him briefly. Besides being stricken with a bad case of the giggles, he seemed fine. “Of course, you’ll live. You have an obligation to keep breathing, Mr. Summers, ‘cause I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

“Is that so? I guess you’re stuck with me then…forever!” His arms enclosed around my waist, he tugged me to the ground playfully.

“Get off, you silly man!” With a hastily suppressed snicker, I squirmed about in his warm embrace. “Release me!”

“Nooo, you can’t get rid of me—not ever! You’re all mine. Just submit already, woman!” He attacked my cheeks with a frantic rush of kisses.

I smothered a chuckle from the sensation of his beard stubble brushing against my skin, but once he started tickling my sides, my voice rang up a scale and crackled hysterically. Whenever I tried to pull away, he’d draw me right back in, fragrantly fun, carefree, and mischievous despite the dozens of onlookers in our midst.

I tickled him back, and Lenny’s laughter was so jubilant, pure as the Heavens above, childish even despite his adulthood and masculinity. His mirth was like the summer sun and the stars at the peak of dawn. Whenever I heard it, no matter the time of day or weather, the world brightened.

Breathing in his tantalizing, uniquely familiar scent, I nuzzled my nose against his. “I love you.”

Stiffening abruptly, a rush of red stained his cheeks. His voice lowered, quiet and shy. “Hey, you’re making me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. There’s folks around—I’m not blushing, am I?”

“You are. It’s adorable.” I stood and extended a hand to him. “Now get up outta that dirt, silly.”

“C’mere, Sugar.” With a captivating smile, he lured me down to his level once again. He tipped his chin toward the sky. “Look at the stars, ain’t they pretty?”

Pinpoints of silver peeped in and out of the masses of gray clouds overhead. It was going to rain soon. I wiped the dust from my skirt. “You’re ruining my outfit, handsome.”

“What does it matter? I’m just gonna take it off you anyway.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, cowboy.”

Music blared from the nearby saloon, a live performance it sounded like. There was clapping and cheering, a soulful feminine voice filled the air, blending in elegantly with the strum of stringed instruments.

Lenny’s brows shot up. “You hear that?”

I nodded. “It sounds lovely.”

He tossed his whiskey aside and rose, lifting me along with him. Taking my hand in his, he preformed a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

“Dance?” My face heated at the proposal. “H-here?”

“Right here, right now.”

Filled with embarrassed discomfort, I lowered my head. “There’s an awful lot of people around, Lenny.”

“Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. Just focus on me, okay?”

Arms encircling my waist, he anchored me against him, swaying to the music. I was tense and on edge at first, I’ve never danced in public. Let alone in the center of town where just about every neighboring feller, woman, loyal steed, and child could take a gander.

But once his hazel gaze found mine, our bustling surroundings melted away. Hypnotized by the shimmering sparks of gold in the depths of his eyes, all I could see was him. The way his lean body glided with effortless rhythm and fluidity. How his muscles flexed and rippled with every slight movement beneath his shirt. Following his gentle motion, my arms slid around his neck. He was my world, and the moment was ours.

“We coulda done this in the saloon, you know,” I said.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I know going to that saloon in particular was my idea, but uh, honestly…I didn’t feel comfortable in there.”

“Why? Did one of those drunkards do something? Say something? I swear, if there are any inbred yokels around here, you just point me in their direction—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Every fella in there was eyeballing you. It ain’t no crime to look but…” His voice trailed off.

I frowned. “I didn’t notice anyone was staring, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for being the prettiest girl in town. You got all the women in the West green with envy and the fellas? They salivate over you like a pack of rabid dogs after a bone. And regardless of all that, you chose me. Feels like a dream. The best damn dream.” He dipped me back and kissed my temple. I held onto him as his full lips drifted to my neck, brushing over my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes on a moan when he caught the lobe of my ear between his teeth, the spontaneity of it all warmed my heart, and awakened a fierce ache between my legs.

With he straightened me, I was near breathless and dizzy. There was an applause, and whistling coming from over my shoulder. Lenny’s grasp on me was strong and clinging, as if I could slip through his fingers at any given moment. “You’re mine, I’m yours, and now everybody knows it.”

I flushed, perversely flattered and delighted by his possessiveness. “You know, this isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘keeping a low profile’,” I whispered.

“So, about that…” He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so cutely at odds with the wiry, solid sexuality of his body. “I ain’t the best at laying low, never have been. Everywhere I go, something or somebody starts kickin’ up a fuss and I get dragged into it. For example, some fool gets robbed—by no fault of mine, might I add—then that same fool gets brave and winds up with a bullet in his gut. And of course, being the law-abiding citizen that I very much am, I got no choice but to intervene.”

I smiled. “So, all this time you’ve been playing the hero? Everything the lawmen said about you was a lie?”

“The law ain’t never been fair or smart.”

“That much is true.” The sky rumbled, and the clouds began to shed some heavy droplets of rain. Folks began to retreat indoors, while a select few preferred to take shelter under the general store awnings.

“Well, there goes our audience,” Lenny said. “A real shame, too. I was getting used to the limelight.” He took off his brown leather cowboy hat and gave it to me. “Here, Sugar. For your hair.”

“Thank you.” I nuzzled my face to his chest. “We should go. The storm is only going to get worse.”

Seemingly unbothered by the rain, he tilted my chin up and settled his mouth on mine. A rush of warmth flowed through me, the soft sweetness of his kiss weakened my knees. Gradually, the pressure of his lips increased, and I surrendered myself to him. His tongue stroked slow and tenderly over mine. Our connection was wildly passionate and undeniable. I was so absorbed by him, possessed by his sweet love, I hardly noticed the drizzle running down our faces to where our lips connected. The cold rain mingled with the uniquely wonderful taste of him.

The working of his mouth against mine made me hot. Restless. I pushed a hand into his gloriously damp hair and sucked on the bottom of his lip, tracing my tongue over its perfect fullness, nibbling, gently pulling…

The sound of his groan was so satisfyingly deep and erotic, my core throbbed, uncomfortably wet. Lenny broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Damn…what are you doing to me?”

I smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gripping my hips, he crushed me to him, the impressive package between his legs brushed my thigh. “I…I-I need to be inside you,” he confessed with some difficulty. “I’m aching.”

Moved by the extent of his longing, I stood on the tip of my toes and reclaimed his lips, my palms sliding all over his lethally sexy body. We were drenched in the chilly, pouring rain, but not even the forces of nature could keep my hands off him. “There’s a hotel next door,” I said between kisses.

Lenny nodded an assent and lifted me off my feet, my legs hooked around his waist. He carried me across the road and through the hotel’s swinging doors. The lobby was empty.

“I’ll be just a minute!” a voice I presumed to be the receptionist called out from down the hall.

Still holding me in his powerful arms, Lenny leaned against the front desk as we made out with reckless abandon. The soul-reaching massage of his lips sent shivers rippling up my spine. Raising my skirt a fraction, his hips started moving, the hard length of his cock grinding sinfully against me through the confides of his pants. Oh, god…a deep hunger stirred inside me. I had to have him—all of him—and it had to be soon. Or else I’d go crazy.

I held onto him for dear life, trembling from the hot, delicious friction. I didn’t care who was watching. I was way past the point of shyness, the primal desire to be fucked by this beautiful outlaw was at the forefront of my mind. It was all that mattered.

My skin burning hot and flustered, I whimpered. “I want you, Lenny.”

Muscles tense and visibly shaking with lust, he uttered huskily, “Fuck, I want—I need you.”

I buried my face in the crook of his corded neck, ravaging his skin with love bites and licks. “How bad do you need me?”

“Real bad. More than anything. I’ll beg if I got to. I’ll plead. I’ll get on my damn knees right now.” He swallowed deep, his expression tight and eyes smoldering. “If we don’t get a key soon, I might just bend you over this desk and fuck you right here.”

I trembled. It sounded like a threat as much as a promise, the scorching intensity of his words so unlike him. He was losing his composure, the desire stripping away his inhibitions and calm, sweet-tempered mannerisms. Only I could do this to him. It was a major turn-on and confidence boost.

“Here I am!” the receptionist finally arrived, scrambling into his rightful place behind the desk. His presence was a blur, I was too preoccupied enjoying the softness of Lenny’s lips. I could probably come like this, just by kissing him if we went at it long enough.

“Good Lord Almighty!” the receptionist gaped at us. “You kids need a room immediately! Luckily for you, we have one available. Just one. It’s been a big night for tourism, with that band of fancy folk from Saint Denis parading through town, playing their music and causing a ruckus. I don’t understand how anyone can get anything done with all that darn noise and commotion—”

Lenny shoved a hand into his satchel and flung a couple dollars at the chatty receptionist. It stopped his ranting, thank goodness.

“Second floor, first room on your right.” Once he passed over the key, Lenny whisked me upstairs. Heedless of everything and everyone, our hot, lingering kisses didn’t break as he fumbled with the lock. A moment later, the door opened, and we were inside a dimly lit room bathed in candlelight, rain softly drummed against the windowpanes.

Lenny dropped me on the bed. I reached for his vest and ripped it open, the buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. “Get naked, cowboy.”

He laughed, shrugging out of his shirt and suspenders, and then unbuckling his gun belt. I ran my hand down his chest in awe. His deep brown skin illuminated by the warm, flickering light, he glowed like flames piercing the darkness, radiant with transcendental beauty and mystery. I wanted him so bad, it hurt.

I nuzzled my face against the solid ridges of his damp, god-like abdomen. “Christ, why are you so perfect?”

“Perfect?” He pinched my cheek playfully. “Aw, you really think so? Arthur told me the same thing once, but he was drunk and vomiting in a pig pen outside the saloon when he said it—”

“Lenny…” Grinning, I swatted his hand off my cheek. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Flashing an apologetic smile, he tossed aside the wet hat on my head and helped me out my clothes with gentle finesse. I went for his zipper, freeing his thick cock. My mouth watered. He was rock-hard, and throbbing. I traced the flat of my tongue along the heavy veins coursing his length, slow and worshipfully.  

He fisted my hair, restraining me just before I took him into my mouth. “Nuh-uh, Sugar. That can wait. Lay down.”

My brows raised. Apparently, Lenny was in charge tonight. I obeyed, curious of what he had in store.

The heat and clean, woodsy scent of his body took my breath away once he came down on me. “You’re beautiful.” He plumped one breast in his hand, kissing my neck, his lips grazing back and forth over my tender, flustered skin. I squirmed from the heady sensation. My legs locked around his hips, silently urging him to make love to me already. Near mindless with need, I struggled to find my voice, to formulate words. All that slipped from my throat was tiny, helpless whimpering.

He took himself in his hand and stroked my slick entrance, the soft nudges of his cock head agonizingly teasing. I arched my hips, my body straining toward him, desperate for a connection. He was making me wait, avoiding my clit and somehow resisting the temptation of fucking me despite my pleading.

“Lenny, please. What are you waiting for?”

“Hush now,” he said. “You’ll be ready for me soon.”

“I’ve been ready for you for the longest. Since this morning.”

He nipped my neck, sucking feverishly. Surely leaving a mark behind. Inflamed and trembling in distress, I rolled my hips against the rigid column of flesh he so cruelly teased me with. Patiently, he coaxed me to the brink of insanity. I was soaked in my own wetness, creaming madly for the feel of him inside me.

Raking my nails across his back, I pulled him closer. I needed him to fuck me more than I needed my next breath. “Now,” I gasped. “Need you now.”

With an expert shift of his hips, he pushed into me hard, and so pleasantly deep.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned, shuddering, clenching around him. Finally. Warmth struck my heart. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, too long—

“Don’t come,” he murmured, his palms slipped under my hips and cupped my behind, squeezing.

“Excuse me?” I was so close to the edge already. How the hell did he expect me not to go off?

“Good things come to those who wait. It feels so much better in the end.” Lenny started to move, his thrusts lazy and tortuously slow. “Can you do that for me, Sugar? Can you make it last?”

The cadence of his soft-spoken, drawling words sounded so sweet in my ears, so delicate. A fierce ache struck my chest. I was hopelessly in love with him, and more than willing to submit to his every need and request.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, my vision blurred with tears. “You have no idea how good you feel inside me.”

“Trust me, I-I do.” Lenny’s leisurely rhythm came to an abrupt halt, his body shivered violently. Jaw clenched, a groan slipped through his lips, tension contorted the gorgeous features of his face. Holding back seemed to be affecting him as well.

Quickly regaining his poise, he resumed screwing me. Lenny knew my body so well, all the tender spots that demanded attention and how precisely to stroke them. It was all muscle memory to him at this point. Over and over, his cock rubbed the bundle of quivering nerves clenching, aching for his touch.

Gripping the sheets with white-knuckled force, I smothered an upsurge of sobs, thrashing against the overwhelming need to climax. I was burning from the inside out, our bodies sticky with sweat. Trembling uncontrollably, I couldn’t hold back for much longer…

“Don’t come,” Lenny repeated. “Make this last. Just hold on.”

“I c-can’t. It feels amazing. Jesus, Lenny…” Tears escaped my eyes. I was falling apart, utterly and irreversibly lost in him. “I love you. I-I love you so, so much…”

He kissed away the tear tracks on my face. “Hold me. Don’t you let go.”

I released the covers and clung to him. His heavy-lidded gaze snagged with mine, searing into me. He sighed heavily, from pleasure, tension, or both—I couldn’t tell. His hips still surging at a moderate, deliberately restrained tempo that was driving senseless, I blurted, “Slow down. Please. I’ll come if you don’t slow down.”

“Will you now?” A wicked smile pulled at his lips. “I thought you wanted to come, Sugar. Why the change of heart?”

My back arched as his hold on my behind grew bruising. He lifted my hips into his thrusts, and I cried out, my core boiling and tightening with a pressure so severe, I feared I’d snap in two if I didn’t give into my bodily cravings soon.

“I won’t come,” I panted. “Not—not until y-you say so.”

His hazel eyes softened, sympathetic almost as he watched me quiver helplessly beneath him. One hand clasping the side of my face, he kissed me with a heartrending tenderness, his tongue caressing mine. Yes.

“Come for me,” he fucked me harder, dominating my body, although his voice was honeysweet against my lips. “I need to feel you…”

With his permission, an orgasm erupted inside me like a volcano, molten pleasure spreading from my core and overcoming the entirety of my body in a scorching wave. It was remarkable. Explosive. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I let out a shrill cry, writhing under Lenny’s sweat-slick muscles. His name spewed repeatedly from my lips as he fucked me into blissful oblivion.

The climax surged on and on. I was melting, drowning in the immense ecstasy of being loved by him, pleased by him. He was my everything, and without him I was empty and hollow. I could die in his arms right now and regret not a thing, because I’ve never truly lived a day until I met him.  

The connection we shared was incredibly intense, inside and outside the bedroom. But when we were making love like this, intimately linked, giving and receiving pleasure from one another like our lives depended on it…our bond felt unbreakable. It was frightening how deeply I adored him—an outlaw. A man the law wanted strung up by a noose…

A muscle twitching in his jaw, he rode out my climax until the clenches faded; then he slowed down his pace, burying himself inside me languidly. He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes dark and dilated, his strong body convulsed furiously. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm, still denying himself the pleasure he’s been working toward all night long. The glaring self-control and perseverance Lenny emanated was something to be envied.

I gathered his hair in my hands, kissing the side of his damp throat. “You’re shaking, handsome. Do I feel that good?”

“Yes,” he rasped, pounding into me erratically, his balls slapping against the curve of my behind. “Oh shit, yes.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his chin onto the corner of my lip. I slid my tongue along his sculpted jawline, collecting the saltiness with a soft murmur of satisfaction. He tasted so good, and the scent of his lust smelled even better.

“Why don’t you come inside me, cowboy?” I teased, my voice husky. “You know you want to.”

He clasped the nape of my neck, his gaze burned into mine. “Do you want me to?”

I had just as much control over his body as he did mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Lenny. Come.”

With a serrated groan, his beautiful cock jerked, spurting hotly, flooding me with his heat. His hips ground against mine, he emptied his load as deeply as he could inside me. I don’t know how long we laid there holding each other, spent and panting. Eventually, our breathing steadied and our bodies cooled.

“Leonard Summers!” a rugged voice shouted from outside, piercing the calm serenity of the rain. “We know you’re in here! Give yourself up, boy, there ain’t nowhere left to run!”

Lenny shot up from the bed.

Still wrapped up in a sex-induced daze, my brain struggled to comprehend what the hell was happening. Lazily, I sat up, covering my exposed breasts with the sheets. “What’s going on?”

Lenny inched to the window and glanced furtively though the blinds. “Lawmen,” he winced. “A lot of ‘em.”

I shivered, my heartbeat sped up. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was, Sugar. Maybe you were right—coming ‘round here was, in fact, a real bad idea.” His teeth gleamed in a lopsided smile, confident and reassuring despite our unfortunate circumstances. “So, uh…you know how to handle a gun, right?”

My eyes widened. Oh no…

#lenny summers #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdrwriting #rdr fanfic #arthur morgan #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr fandom #romance #lenny summers x reader

[romeulusroy]

War Boy (John Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1,682

Inspired By: Holiday by Dana Williams

Warning/s: abuse mention

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever written, which is pretty cool :) I never thought I'd be able to write something greater than 500 words. It's not my usual style, which is a little frustrating, but in the end I like how it turned out. I had no idea where it was going until the very end, and if that doesn't explain the writing process, I'm not sure what does! I'm super close to 200 fics/a third part of the fic masterlist and that's really exciting! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Infidelity. Lust. Greed. Envy. He always wanted what wasn't his. A sin, if he believed in those kinds of things. If all the things he'd done in his lifetime weren't so much worse, he would have been afraid. But he wasn't. He should have been ashamed, guilty, pleading on his hands and knees to a bitter God for forgiveness, for understanding he wasn't deserving of, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, because he didn't feel bad. A man of crime, of impulse, sharing a bed with someone who slipped their ring off for him was the least of his worries. To anyone looking in, it would have seemed wrong, sick. It was. It should have seemed that way to him. But he watched from the inside, he knew what really was going on, the full story behind the locked windows and drawn curtains. There were things the rest of the world thought they knew, that they put their faith into, but only you and John knew what was really going on.

It wasn't about the sneaking, the secrets, it wasn't about revenge, getting back at him for all the things he ever did, all the things he put you through. It was about finally being wanted. It was about bloody fists. A heavy silence blanketed over the dinner table. A shove, a grin, a power dynamic. You loved him most when he wasn't around. Felt the most safe, the most adored when the space between you grew, the soil between you deepening, rotting. A man of war, who'd kissed her cheeks and cried when she fell instead of him. It should have been him in those trenches, in her arms. He'd told you that only once, his eyes restless, crazed, begging for one night of rest, too ashamed to admit in daylight. It should have been him, not the brave men beside him, not the innocent boys thrown into this without a second thought. It should have been his funeral, his shallow grave, his things distributed among friends, desperate for anything they could get their hands on. They'd be sad, of course, mourning another loss, but sad didn't matter when the world was ending.

It should have been him. And sometimes, you wished it was.

Someone you worshiped, someone you would have done anything for. That's what love made you believe. He was the light of your life, the reason of your very existence. A boy, then. Kids, you both were, blinded by something bigger than yourselves, something you thought could escape death herself, last a hundred lifetimes. Young, sweet, with summer in your veins. You were so naive. He was different before the war. Softer, tender, he was affectionate, drunk on the ideas of a future together. Married before he left, a ring around his finger when he stepped on that train. He'd lost it, somewhere along the line, and that should have been the first warning when he came back. They all changed, but not like him. The bombs, the guns, the shock of it settled in his gut, poisoning his blood. The fire of the explosives lived inside him. It slept when he did, but it was always looking for something to set it off.

The smallest spark would be enough.

Then it wasn't just anger, but rage. Wrath. A sea of red. Everything in his path needed to be destroyed regardless of the skin it wore. Shattered glass. Broken furniture. Holes in walls. Fabric ripped, or torn, or punctured. Even when he dreamed he clenched his fists, as if he were ready for a fight, a battle, that would never come. You were his favorite, though. Once a cherished item in his collection, sat on the top shelf for safe keeping, now you were nothing but a rag doll. Thrown around for his own entertainment. Bruised, bleeding, left to clean yourself up, mend your own wounds. Sometimes it was barely noticeable. Sometimes it wasn't. And that's when John came into your life.

An old friend, one he'd witnessed war with.

A visit. Simple, quick, a check up on someone he regretted losing contact with. Heard stories of someone special back home, someone who kept him going. From the second you saw him, though, you knew he was different. Careful eyes, all smiles and a wicked humor. He'd held on to that. With bloody nails, he wouldn't let her take that from him. He took notice of everything, whether or not you realized. The purple fingerprints in your skin. The badges under your sleeves. Your limp. The flinching, the bracing when a glass was set down too fast, too hard. John made a point to find his way in this part of Birmingham more often, knowing not only had the men changed, but their lives and families as well. It wasn't just the soldiers who suffered.

He became a source of comfort. Walking your husband home when he drank too much to remember where he lived, helping him up the stairs when his dead weight was too much to carry. It was his way of coping, his way of control. If he was too far gone to remember his own name, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Drown the demons in booze, forgetting how violent he could be when he was hungover. Passed out, leaving the two of you alone. You found yourself confiding in him, telling him things you never would have told anyone. Admitting to your own exhaustion, your own defeat, raising your white flag. You didn't have to explain the flinching, the hesitation to trust, all the little things he picked up on, all the things he'd seen too often. He was a man of destruction. Smashing his bottles, begging for a fight, starting them when no one else would. A form of self mutilation. Too many nights John spent taking care of the gashes in his face, of his open knuckles.

He was trying to beat the war out of himself. Scare it away. Make it rupture.

Sometimes he was unexpected. Knocking out of nowhere when your husband was at work. You should have known he wasn't looking for him. You should have known, but you didn't. And neither did he, inviting him for dinner, for drinks, any occasion. Before you knew it, you were spending every night together. Over the table, your laughs hushed, your words effortless. Learned more about him than you ever thought. A wife he loved, passed away. A brood of kids he fears he's not good enough for. A complicated family and a business with a license to kill. The thought of him, funny John with his quips and fast wit, with his endless supply of dirty jokes and filthy words, a father. You had a hard time picturing him reading bedtime stories or folding baby clothes. It was something you used to dream of, having kids. Not anymore, not with a man like that. You'd never forgive yourself, ruining an innocent life, raised in a field of landmines. It wouldn't be fair to them. You couldn't do that.

He brought them a few times. Pudgy fingers, toothless giggles, tales about school, about all the things they were learning, all the people they'd become one day. It did something to your home. Turned a lifetime of pain and fear into excitement, into joy. They didn't know what life had in store for them, the possibilities endless. Infinite. All of them wanting a piece of you, sitting on your lap, whispering all the secrets their father told them not to tell. He spoke of you often, or at least, that's what they said. John in his natural state, a child on his hip, another pulling him by the cuff. He was needed. That was more than you could say for yourself. A pain, an ache in your chest, watching your husband. Awkward, anxious, angry. Angry at little fingerprints across every surface. Angry at the noise, at the constant energy, the neediness. You knew he thought that was weak, to need someone. He couldn't stand to be near them.

He couldn't stand anything anymore.

John would have killed the man. If he were anyone else, he would have sliced him in half, make a godless man see heaven for himself. But he wasn't just anyone, they'd seen hell together. Walked through fire, spit in the face of the devil himself and lived to see another day. That was rare. It made a bond unlike any other. But that didn't mean he had to like him, that he had to approve of everything he did. Drunk together, one night, the last two at the bar. He never meant for it to get out. It was the whiskey talking. A single sentence, a threat in passing. If you ever hurt them again, I'll fucking kill ya. His words were slurred, and heavy between his teeth, but there was truth to them. He could have said something a lot worse. He could have told him he was undeserving of you, that he was fucked up to hurt you, to take you for granted. He could have said that he changed, that he wasn't the friend he was anymore, that he couldn't stand the sight of him. John could have admitted that he loved you, from the second he saw you, he loved you and he wanted to protect you, that he thought of you every single day.

But he didn't.

Instead he made a promise, an oath to you, to him. One he never wanted to go to through with. One he'd have to, he knew it. Now he was waiting across the street, ducking in the shadows, watching for him to leave, to go to the bar after another meltdown. The screaming could be heard through the neighborhood. It didn't matter who he used to be, this was him now. This was his fate. He should have listened to John that night, but he didn't, he didn't listen to anyone anymore, and now he'd face the end.

John just hoped you'd forgive him after all this.

#writing #john shelby #john shelby drabble #john shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders drabble #peaky blinders oneshot #john shelby x reader #john x reader #x reader #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fic #drabble #oneshot #x gender neutral #gender neutral #x gender neutral reader

[cupsofsuga]

ot7 yandere meeting your parents and your parents not liking them💘💫

BLOODLINE  ━ YANDERE BTS REACTION*:･。.

WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

Thank you for requesting, angel!

KIM SEOKJIN

━━━ You and Jin have known each other for your whole lives, never spent a moment without each other. You often reminisce of the times where you’d both ride your bikes through town together or spend nights under a fort you two created, trying your best to hush your own laughter in fear of waking up a parent. The innocence of your childhood was what you missed and now that you’ve grown into a teen, the atmosphere and neglect of childlike joy are now tangible. That’s where Jin comes in, like some sort of superhero wearing a cape with a cheesy slogan. He is there to heal the scorching sensation in your heart and to fight off the sorrows that dared to linger in your head. Upon seeing this newfound connection, your parents didn’t favor the idea of you spending time with that certain boy the called “trouble”.

No worries, though. You’re a teenager, you use bitter lies like it’s your very own sword. You crouched and climbed through each other’s windows during nightfall acting like inmates when all you really were was lovers. Hushed laughter turned to quiet whispers to avoid getting caught, and Jin hated acting like this infatuation was supposed to be kept at secrecy. How could they act like loving somebody was such a crime? How can they take away this soul he needs in his life in such a vicious manner? Those were questions that quickly vanished when you two would go elsewhere than each other’s rooms, finding an open woodland space and trying to remember the names of constellations or to gas stations at 4 am just to laugh as you did years ago. Spending even just a few seconds in your arms is what makes his anger subside and he can feel pure again.

These moments with you feel like they’re eternal, even though they’re spent in the dead of night, scared of the eyes of your parents. You both are 17, which means 1 more year until he can scoop you into his arms and escape this deadbeat town. Whatever the future had planned for him, he won’t care about a thing as long as he gets to spend the rest of his days with you by his side.

“I know we’re only just kids, but, God, Y/N… I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you…”

MIN YOONGI

━━━ The two of you eat in bitter silence. Your mother, once again, shared her much-unneeded opinion about him. She insulted him, mocking him of his weight and claiming he couldn’t defend you in any way. It angered you, severely, and you held a tight grip on your fork to hold yourself back from exploding at her. Seconds of silence go by, ticking away like the deafening echo of a clock. But then, under the dinner the table, you feel a tenacious grip on your hand. Yoongi holds and squeezes onto your palm like he is about to be devoured by the darkness of our galaxy and he clings onto a single star for dear life. He holds onto you like you’re a lifeline and without your touch, he’d die in the most miserable, violent way possible.

Her comments hurt him and he couldn’t defend himself with his poor, weak fists. Her few words made him feel small, defenseless, like a small bunny rabbit against an entire pack of hungry wolves. Tears build up as the insecurities scatter his mind like the raindrops of a heavy storm. Yoongi starts to shake and tremble, trying to hold these inevitable tears back and not let his emotions go rampant at the dinner table, which already had a disastrous mood that lingered around everyone. Luckily, you noticed, tightening your grip on his hand (if that was even humanly possible anymore) and walking straight out of the house, not without a cold “fuck you” directed to your mother.

His tears flow out like a goddamn waterfall down his cheeks. Down, down, down they go as his choked sobs fill the midnight air. Such a melancholic time to be in. The embers of the sun cannot bring warmth to Yoongi’s soul, anymore, and he must cry in the saturated light of the moon. The idea gives off pandemonium of sorrows, but then you come. Your arms are locked tightly around his petite figure, letting him shake with sobs in your grasp as you coo and reassure him that her cruel words don’t mean a thing. But then, there it is. There’s the sun, he can feel the warmth on his face. Yoongi can feel the seraphic scintillation of sunbeams embrace and kiss him softly. And although there is no sun, only the moon, that won’t take away the serenity of this moment.

“Please, please, please… Don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go… Please…”

JUNG HOSEOK

━━━ Phantoms of unheard ghost lie in your heavy heart. Their insults towards your lover hurt like stab wounds and come like bullets. Every second circling around Hoseok is golden and eternal and you question about your parent’s blindness to his pure aura. He is so, so very joyful resting in the wrath of your presence that it turns physical. It twists and turns his heart in such a pleasurable matter that their heavy, bitter words don’t even give him the slightest of bruises. Like a perceptible weight of seraph that weighs down gently on his chest. Like the freedom of summer, or like a solemn melody that reverberates blissfully in your head. Entirely single fleeting moments spent in utter enchantment, where worries fail to exist.

Every second spent with you is the exact moment where the noose nestled on his neck breaks loose and he can breathe.

Hoseok feels with his heart instead of his fingertips. He cries tears of mercury instead of water. He smiles with the beams of the moon instead of the sun. He is an inhuman creature, an angel or a siren of some sort. Many were quick to fall under his magic way of seething joy, but they never mattered, only you do. That’s all he ever desired, after all, was your affections intended solely for him and him only. So, when your parents mocked and insulted him of being too soft and sensitive, he was quick to brush them off. It’s ok. He doesn’t care about them at all. Only your opinion mattered, anyway, and he’ll do anything to validate and lionize whatever thought crossed your mind.

“It’s ok, Y/N… I only care about you and you only… Please don’t let their words get to you. It hurts me to see you in pain…”

KIM NAMJOON

━━━ You spend your days drinking moonlight straight from the glass and bathing in fields-worth of flower petals. You wear the earth on your body, sleep in river streams and taste of the brightest stars. You may be a witch, you may be a God, or you could just be Y/N. Y/N. A name that has the void in his chest filled to the brim with galaxies, planets and the light of a billion stars. A name that is the only cure to heal his shattered and bruised heart. A name that is said with the blood of holy gods but with the softness of a goddesses touch. The name that is equivalent to a lullaby and is sung from the angels that dance and sing within his own heart.

But… what’s this? You parents have failed to see his love for you…? How could this be? Namjoon has shown nothing but pure, loyal devotion for you and they see him as nothing but some stupid imp!? That can’t be, it won’t be! He wouldn’t let this become a reality!

Namjoon becomes suffocating and intolerant, but he is desperate in times like this. You reassure him your parent’s opinions surely doesn’t make your love for him differ in the slightest and as much as he listens and cherishes every syllable that leaves your lips, those words don’t affect him in the slightest. He bombards your parents with flowers, foods and any gift he could possibly think of. As much as it harms his soul, he tries to ignore their stares of hatred and whispers of gossip. It hurts, but that won’t stop him. Namjoon will do anything to prove to them that he is a good man and is completely worthy of spending the rest of time with their child. Anything.

“I know they don’t matter to you, but, how can they think of me like that? That I’m just some idiotic hellion that only sees you as some sort of toy!? I see you as my entire world, Y/N, and I need them to see that, too… I don’t want anyone to ever think you mean nothing to me…”

PARK JIMIN

━━━ Lover’s Spit is playing, mixed in with the white noise of passing automobiles and tires against the road. It’s a cloudy day when you and Jimin finally pack up and return home from your parent”s house, and Jimin was more than ready to be safe and alone with you. He feels envy; envy for the unforeseen heaven you’ve found in this place rather than finding it within him. You loved being back at home, he can see it in your eyes. It’s like the most beautiful explosion of diamonds and pearls across the nebulous, velvet-touched sky. And as he stares out of the window, groggily watching the trees and cars pass by and music echoing in his head, he feels resent.

“Everything ok, love?” The heavy bass seems to dim down and all he can hear is your voice and feel your sweet attention finally on him. Like an angel’s kiss on a fresh, moggy spring morning, he can finally feel your affections intended solely for him. But when Jimin finally forwards his stare from out of the window to your pretty face, you see a look so heart-shattering that even the clouds start to disintegrate.

Such a devastating look he gives you. Lips trembling, tears clinging onto his lashes like broken shards of diamonds. His features look as if they were chiseled in marble and placed somewhere in Rome. So pure, so beautiful, so melancholically dreamlike. There’s sorrow buried deep in his heart and you’re aching to find out what caused this.

“Y/N… I-I know you love them, but, please… Please don’t leave me… I couldn’t survive without you. Just… Just tell me you love me. It’s all I need to hear right now…”

KIM TAEHYUNG

━━━ Taehyung gulps the glass in front of him like it’s holy water and he’s desperate to be purified of his sins. Their stares linger far too long and he can’t help but wonder, do they know about his vicious infatuation? Do they see him when he lurks outside your window to simply admire the art before him? He now holds shame in his heart, and it burns. At first, your parents were ambivalent about him. But now, it was clear of their feelings for him. They despised him. He followed stars and planets to try and shift and shape their opinions about them, but nothing worked. Through courage, kindness, loyalty, truth, and gratitude, he was left with bitter, eternal disgrace. 

There’s a sudden grip on his wrist. Tight, but comforting in this matter. Oh, there you are.

Taehyung suddenly feels delicate, soft, cherubic, in a way. Spring days and the kisses of the moon resting in the crevice of his heart. Dahlias, lilies, tulips, and marigolds begin to fill and flutter within his chest, a sudden warmth nuzzling through his body like the sunbeams embracing his skin on a July afternoon. Taehyung can finally feel so loved and safe with your touch on him. Even though this silence belittles and mocks him, there are worlds forming in his heart. And for now, the light of your love is all he needs.

“Y/N, you are such a gift… A gift that won’t stop giving. Please… Never stop loving me. I don’t know how I’d live without your love…”

JEON JUNGKOOK

━━━ Jungkook can see his reflection in the glimmer of the plate in front of him and has an utter hatred for what he sees. Too possessive, too soft, too emotional, too jealous, too sensitive. His hands start to shiver, his knees ache and his lip quivers. Were all those harsh words true? Could it be possible you felt the same way as well!? This voice inside his head is chanting “calm down!” like it’s some sort of magic spell and he’s trying to summon the dead. But, his plans fail and Jungkook can’t seem to bring a halt to these worries. He begins to hyperventilate as he sinks into himself. “How could you love someone like him?”, they ask. But, really, how could you?

He is nothing but some socially anxious kid who is trying with every weak bone in his body to prove his devotion to the human he loves with the worth of the entire galaxy. You’re a god, and he’s nothing but some filthy hellion that is desperate for your affections. You were born made of shattered stars with a big chunk of the moon that rests in your heart, he was given nothing but thin skin and a glass soul. You are the moon, a light in the darkness that shares its own wrath of eternal peace and beauty. Jungkook is the sun, so overwhelming and so utterly there, and god, does he hate it. But before this epiphany eats him whole, you drag him from the dining room and into your childhood bedroom to try and soothe him of his sorrows.

You shush him when he starts to cry, holding his head with your palms like you have an entire planet in your hands. You wipe his tears and whisper words of reassurance, telling him that he is completely perfect just as he is and how he shouldn’t let their blasphemous words dominate him. And although his insecurities crafted by your parents have now taken a toll on him, your touch and your love heals him, so now he can inhale the scent of summer and exhale the dust of your affections.

“Thank you… Thank you, thank you, thank you… I-I-I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but, fuck… I’m so goddamn thankful to be yours…”

#yandere bts #bts yandere au #yandere!bts #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere!seokjin #yandere seokjin #yandere!yoongi #yandere yoongi #yandere!hoseok #yandere hoseok #yandere!namjoon #yandere namjoon #yandere!jimin #yandere jimin #yandere!taehyung #yandere taehyung #yandere!jungkook #yandere jungkook #bts #bangtan #bts imagines #bts headcanons #bts reactions

[kylo-v]

All V Poems

William Blake, A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade

O'er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangle spray,

All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see,

Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied, 'What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,

While the beetle goes his round:

Follow now the beetle's hum;

Little wanderer, hie thee home!'

William Blake, Proverbs of Hell 

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. 

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead. 

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. 

Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity. 

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence. The cut worm forgives the plow. 

Dip him in the river who loves water. A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees. 

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star. 

Eternity is in love with the productions of time. 

The busy bee has no time for sorrow. 

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure. 

All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap. 

Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth. 

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings. 

A dead body, revenges not injuries. 

The most sublime act is to set another before you. 

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise. 

Folly is the cloke of knavery. Shame is Prides cloke. 

Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion. 

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. 

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. 

The nakedness of woman is the work of God. 

Excess of sorrow laughs. 

Excess of joy weeps. 

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man. 

The fox condemns the trap, not himself. 

Joys impregnate. 

Sorrows bring forth. 

Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep. 

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship. 

The selfish smiling fool, & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod. 

What is now proved was once, only imagin’d. 

The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit: watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits. 

The cistern contains; the fountain overflows. 

One thought, fills immensity. 

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you. 

Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth. 

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow. 

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion. 

Think in the morning. 

Act in the noon. 

Eat in the evening. 

Sleep in the night. 

He who has suffer’d you to impose on him knows you. 

As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers. 

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. 

Expect poison from the standing water. 

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. 

Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title! 

The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth. 

The weak in courage is strong in cunning. 

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey. 

The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest. 

If others had not been foolish, we should be so. 

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d. 

When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head! 

As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys. 

To create a little flower is the labour of ages. 

Damn, braces: Bless relaxes. 

The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest. 

Prayers plow not! Praises reap not! 

Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not! 

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion. 

As the air to a bird of the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible. 

The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white. 

Exuberance is Beauty. 

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning. 

Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius. 

Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires. 

Where man is not nature is barren. 

Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d. 

Enough! or Too much!

William Black, Earth’s Answer

Earth rais'd up her head,

From the darkness dread & drear.

Her light fled:

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watry shore

Starry Jealousy does keep my den

Cold and hoar

Weeping o'er

I hear the Father of the ancient men

Selfish father of men

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear

Can delight

Chain'd in night

The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower?

Sow by night?

Or the plowman in darkness plow?

Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around

Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane!

That free Love with bondage bound.

William Blake, Love and Harmony Combine

LOVE and harmony combine

And around our souls entwine,

While thy branches mix with mine

And our roots together join.

Joys upon our branches sit,

       Chirping loud and singing sweet;

Like gentle streams beneath our feet,

Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear,

I am clad in flowers fair;

       Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,

And the turtle buildeth there.

There she sits and feeds her young;

Sweet I hear her mournful song;

And thy lovely leaves among,

       There is Love: I hear his tongue.

There his charmed nest he doth lay,

There he sleeps the night away,

There he sports along the day,

And doth among our branches play.

William Blake, Songs of Innocence, “Infant Joy”

I have no name

I am but two days old.—

What shall I call thee?

I happy am

Joy is my name,—

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy but two days old,

Sweet joy I call thee;

Thou dost smile.

I sing the while

Sweet joy befall thee.

William Blake, Poetical Sketches

Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,

Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,

I walk the village round; if at her side

A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,

I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,

That made my love so high and me so low.

O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear

And throw all pity on the burning air;

I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,

And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.

TO THE MUSES.

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow

Or in the chambers of the East,

The chambers of the Sun, that now

From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair

Or the green corners of the earth,

Or the blue regions of the air,

Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,

Beneath the bosom of the sea

Wandering in many a coral grove,

Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State

A Horse misusd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear

A Skylark wounded in the wing

A Cherubim does cease to sing

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright

Every Wolfs & Lions howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul

The wild deer, wandring here & there

Keeps the Human Soul from Care

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife

And yet forgives the Butchers knife

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belovd by Men

He who the Ox to wrath has movd

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spiders enmity

He who torments the Chafers Sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night

The Catterpiller on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song

Poison gets from Slanders tongue

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envys Foot

The poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags

A Truth thats told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent

It is right it should be so

Man was made for Joy & Woe

And when this we rightly know

Thro the World we safely go

Joy & Woe are woven fine

A Clothing for the soul divine

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands

Tools were made & Born were hands

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity

This is caught by Females bright

And returnd to its own delight

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of Death

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands

Or if protected from on high

Does that whole Nation sell & buy

He who mocks the Infants Faith

Shall be mockd in Age & Death

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall neer get out

He who respects the Infants faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons

The Questioner who sits so sly

Shall never know how to Reply

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown

Nought can Deform the Human Race

Like to the Armours iron brace

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will neer Believe do what you Please

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt

Theyd immediately Go out

To be in a Passion you Good may Do

But no Good if a Passion is in you

The Whore & Gambler by the State

Licencd build that Nations Fate

The Harlots cry from Street to Street

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse

Dance before dead Englands Hearse

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to Endless Night

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

#v #dmc5 v #devil may cry 5 v #v devil may cry 5 #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #v devil may cry #poems #poetry #william blake #william blake poems #dmc fandom

[fleetingblossomofthedawn]

ABCs of your OCs: A, G, H, and P for Kiyo, A, E, H, and T for Saga? If you don't mind...

Of course I don’t mind, I’m super happy you are still so interested in my OCs @fierce-little-miana! I’ll do my best for you! Let’s see..

Kiyo

A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

Her natural abilities would be intangibility and invisibility. 

2. what activities have they participated in?

Okay the only thing close to an activity in school terms would be taking care of the shrine she grew up at.

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

From a young age she was trained in hand-to-hand-combat styles as well as acrobatics. She mixes these skills with her natural abilities.

4. what things are they bad at?

Kiyo can not swim very well and is in fact afraid of water, because she almost drowned as a child.

5. what is their most impressive talent?

I think her most impressive talent is how she is able to bring out the best in other people.

G: Gorgeous 1. what is their most attractive external feature?

Her eyes are definitely captivating.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

Her sweet enthusiasm and cheerful persona.

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

Apart from the fact that she can sneak into every candy store and rob it for you two without being noticed, she is a loyal friend who will never give up on you and help you be the best person you can be.

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

Kiyo actually likes her petite stature a lot and also other people would say her eyes are beautiful, she doesn’t like her eyes and wishes she could change their color.

5. what parts of others do they envy?

She envies everyone with a normal eye color 

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room?

Her room would be moderately hot but always cozy. 

2. do they prefer summer or winter?

She doesn’t really prefer either and loves all seasons for what they are.

3. do they like the snow?

Kiyo loves snow and luckily since she grew up in a mountain village there was always plenty of snow in winter for her.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity?

Summer is the time for getting up early and watch the sunrise and go flower picking afterwards.

5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

Just like a certain favourite of ours she likes to make snowbunnies and roasted chestnuts.

P: Personality 1. what is their best personality trait?

In my opinion her best character traits are definitely her kindness and optimism that drive her to see the best in people and helping wherever she can, never giving up on someone.

2. what is their worst personality trait?

Easily what I mentioned above can also be her worst character trait because she is often naive and pretty guillble. 

  3. what of their personality do others love?

Most people find her childlike innocence and unshakeable faith in the good in people endearing.

4. what of their personality do others envy?

I think her determination is definitely something other characters in the story might be envious about a bit.

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

As the story progresses Kiyo realizes her own naivety and so it sort of becomes something she hates about herself, or rather she blames herself for being so naive. What she would hate about other people would be if they are selfish, never take responsibility or use other’s for their personal gain.

Saga

A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

He has a natural talent for riding.

2. what activities have they participated in?

As befitting the son of a noble family he was educated and trained from a young age in swordsmanship, marksmanship and other martial arts, warfare, politics, philosophy and the arts.

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

His education and the effort he put in his lessons himself made him an outstanding warrior and commander as well as a capable and savvy ruler. 

4. what things are they bad at?

Although he loves music, he is actually a terrible musician but will still sing and play his instrument when he needs to relax, much to the dread of everyone else in the castle.

5. what is their most impressive talent?

He is a genius when it comes to battle tactics.

E: External Personality 1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

Actually yes, the good as well as the bad stuff. For example Saga thrives for order and thus will make sure he does things the right and orderly way. Similarly his inner turmoil often shows in his mercurial temper and outbursts.

2. do they do things that conform to the norm?

Although Saga is a big fan order and tradition, he is more of an nonconformist and has proven so multiple times, for example in his choice of lovers and the decision to stay unmarried, despite his general’s and advisor’s pleas to take a wife and father children of his own to secure the succession.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing?

Saga’s whole story basically starts with him basically doing his own thing.

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

Saga would keep himself moderately informed, if he had access to internet.

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

Saga doesn’t care much what others think of him, so he is just himself and lets the people figure out the rest.

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room?

For reasons, Saga likes his room really hot, to the point that others can barely stand the ehat while Saga is still wearing several layers of clothes and still complaining that he is cold.

2. do they prefer summer or winter?

He prefers summer, but autumn is actually his favourite season.

3. do they like the snow?

*Scoffs* NO

4. do they have a favorite summer activity?

Summer country rides, attending festivals and watching fireworks on a long summer night.

5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

Does barricading yourself in your room while cuddling into a blanket and drinking tea count? Because he is not going to get out into the winter hell if he can avoid it.

T: Truth 1. are they honest?

Surprisingly, yes! Saga strongly believes if people were more honest and open with each other everyone would benefit from it, so he himself is honest and frank most of the time. However if he is asked about a subject he really doesn’t want to talk about he prefers to end the conversation instead of lying. When it comes to battle tactics however, he will certainly use bluffs and ingenuine tactics to win.

2. can they tell if someone is lying?

Well it’s not a natural talent of his, but a certain incident in the past made him more distrustful of others, so he had to learn to tell if someone is lying and is now rather good at it.

3. is it obvious when they’re lying?

On the rare occasions he is actually lying it will not be too obvious for others but pretty clear for those close to him.

  4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about?

Just once, and to someone he held very dear, which makes it only worse.

5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will? 

No need for that because no one lives long enough to spread truths against his will.

Wow, that was long! But it was actually a very good chance to think a bit more about these two, so thank you very much for asking @fierce-little-miana! （＾ω＾）

[pheita]

Emotinal Cocktail Tag

I was tagged by @pens-swords-stuff . Thanks even if it took me like three days to get this done. Rules: Match from the list below one emotion from each taste to each character in your WIP and describe why: Sweet: Intelligence - Reason - Love - Hope - Confidence - Delight - Curiosity - Patience - Kindness - Courage - Peace - Humility - Awe Salty: Fear - Anger - Pride - Obsession - Envy - Regret - Shame - Guilt - Disappointment - Cynicism - Naivety - Emotion - Contempt Spicy: Dominance - Submission (just a funny little extra taste for those who prefer it ;) Ok this is going to be a long list, my friends. Too many characters. So you will see everything under the cut to spare others the endless scrolling. And I ignore the spicy because there are not enough options Nesryn: Sweet: Confidence Nesryn is a woman who worked hard on her confidence because to her it is part of being independent of everybody. Some of it comes from the knowledge she gathered and learned over the course of time but also knows when she needs help from someone to learn more. Salty: Fear She is driven a lot by fear. The fear to be used by others, the fear to get into a bad relationship so she avoids them. The fear to let other people into her life. 

Nardik: Sweet: Delight Nardik is someone who is run by everything that delights him. Maybe it is quality time with his husband, playing some poor fools or proving the whole society wrong that a single child can be as successful as a child with siblings. Salty: Cynism Of course a lot of it comes down to being cynic thanks to the way he grew up. He knows to expect nothing of others until they showed their true colors and he always expects things to have a bad ending Thurash: Sweet: Kindness Thurash is always kind and respectful towards others, even towards the bad guys. He always sees the person behind the action and tries to get through them. Salty: Naivety Sometimes his kindness turns into naivety when he refuses to believe something or his optimism starts to go the wrong way. Kinarrah: Sweet: Awe As someone who couldn’t do what others do at her age, Kinarrah often is in awe about simple things. Besides this she is curious like hell and finds awe in most thing. It gives her an air of innocence and sometimes makes her look childish. Salty: Shame The incident when she almost killed a cousin with her powers left Kinarrah being ashamed of herself and her strength. It is something she carries with her even after she met Nesryn and learned to accept herself. Irideska: Sweet: Hope Despite her sarcastic and angry appearance Irideska actually is full of hope, especially when it comes to dragons and humans living one day as equals and that dragons stop babying humans all the way. Salty: Anger But this also means she is full of anger about the established society. She sees all the things that could be better and tries to channel her anger into action. Alashtaire: Sweet: Curiosity Alashtaires curiosity is the driving force behind everything he does. He lives for his research and can always be found in his office behind staples of documents with the newest findings. Salty: ObsessionThat’s the other side of the coin with him. He is obsessed with the portals to other worlds and wants to figure out how they work and how to control them. It sometimes leads to him forgetting about everything else and often pushes everything aside for the portal research. Lorkin: Sweet: Peace Lorkin values freedom and peace as one of the most important things in life and that’s why he became a magical guard. As one of the younger children of his family, he wouldn’t have the need to become one but he decided it was the best way to preserve these values. Salty: Fear Oh this sweet summer child Lorkin. Deep down he is afraid to be himself because in this world he can’t admit that he is genderfluid and sometimes feels more feminine and would like to express it. As a descendant of one of the city’s founding families he needs to keep a certain image and revealing his true self would cause a scene and he is deeply scared how his family will react or what they would do if they ever find out. Eshmerrik: Sweet: Reason Eshmerrik sees himself as a man of science and reason. He is the level headed person of the group besides Thurash and Lorkin who learned it during their time with the guards. Being the one who keeps his emotion in check during times of chaos Eshmerrik became an awesome healer everybody can rely on. Salty: Emotion And there we have the other side. The husband who gets easily affronted by Nardik when he forgets an anniversary or does something Eshmerrik doesn’t like. He can get emotional when it comes to personal things like it is a way to make up for his calm demeanor during work. The good thing is he is also very emotional when it comes to show his love which is something Nardik always loves. I tag @i-rove-rock-n-roll @silvertalonwriteblr @eternalwritingstudent

#emotional cocktail tag #tag game

[laceymorganwrites]

Family Feud

Word count: 4,234

A/N: This is my first Katakuri fic, I might´ve written him a bit ooc. 

Warnings: a few swear words, mentioned verbal abuse

Pairing: Katakuri x Reader

“The sea makes me sick! I can´t possibly be a good wife like that!” your sister whined, to which you just glared at her and rolled your eyes. She was younger than you and didn´t understand anything yet. Your family was traveling to Tottoland, Big Mom´s territory to wed your sister to her son. She didn´t want to, but she had no choice. Ever since she was born it was clear that she would be used in such a political marriage, being a princess. In actuality you were the true heir to the throne of your father´s empire Mariejoa, but he committed treason in marrying your sister´s mother, another princess living in Mariejoa. Your mother died giving birth. She was the true queen of Mariejoa, but then your father decided to marry another woman. They fled the country, but you stayed, becoming the commander of the royal army. Your family ruined your life. With them fleeing the country, your royal title got withdrawn. All you could do to stay in the country was joining the army and working your way up until you got the highest rank. You could have had it all, you could have gotten married to him as well, you swore you would never forgive them for their actions. One day you were on duty when your father called you. He told you your sister would get married to Big Mom´s son and now you needed to pretend as if you still were the royal family of Mariejoa. You needed to pretend as if your younger sister, with a mother your father chose over yours, was the rightful heir to a throne she spat on. She never wanted this life, neither did her mother, and so after your mother died, they started a new family, leaving you behind as if you never existed. And now you were supposed to just play along and accept that your sister was getting all you ever wanted? As if that weren´t enough, the only reason you were even on board of your fleet ship, was to protect her. “Get the fuck over it” you coldly commented on her being seasick, while cradling your sword. You always wanted to visit Tottoland, it´s known that every race is tolerated there, something you could only dream of. Besides, the Big Mom pirates were a big deal, you were especially curious about the sweet commander Katakuri, the man with a 800,000,000 beli bounty. The future husband of your sister, you would like to steal. After all you heard some pretty gruesome stories about him, which made your heart jump and cheeks blush. Your sister was scared of him. Your father came up beside you and touched your shoulder. “I´m sorry” he deeply apologized “We will make up for our sins, that´s why we will regain power by this marriage. You will be a queen like your mother.” he revealed. You just chuckled, it was ridiculous. “I´m not the one getting married. Besides, if Big Mom finds out, we´re all dead anyway”. It was a hot summer day and your armor began feeling heavy, luckily your hair was done up in a braided ponytail. “She will not find out. As of her knowledge your sister is the princess of Mariejoa. If everything goes regarding to our plans, she will marry Katakuri and then the Big Mom pirates will conquer the holy land, this is where you will kill them all and regain the throne and power. We will live together like your mother wanted it”. You said nothing for a while, the idea seemed nice, still you couldn´t quite believe it. “After all these years...why didn´t you apologize sooner? Why didn´t we conquer the land together and made an alliance with the Big Mom pirates afterward? What the hell were you thinking? Who the fuck were you consulting?” you gripped the wooden rim, biting your lip. It really was a hot, infuriating day. “We wanted to be with you, I wanted to be with you, the sister I adored since I was a child. But mother wouldn´t let us, so father killed her and we tried to return to Mariejoa. But they wouldn´t let us in, so we thought of this plan. I don´t want to get married, but as long as they believe I´m the princess and we will regain Mariejoa! Do you really think Big Mom would let her son marry a commander of the royal army?” your sister clutched your arm, the pieces of your armor cutting her. But she didn´t even flinch. Something must´ve happened, you couldn´t believe them. “What´s your true intention? You left me alone, because you wanted to live a normal life. You took everything from me! Do you know what I had to endure? Why do you suddenly want to reunite with me? Why are you telling me all those lies about murder and marriage? And why the fuck to you hold on so tight to my arm? Do you want to rip a hole through your hand? I´ll have to clean that up before we get there!” you pushed your sister away harshly and yelled at your father. “Do you think you´re the only one who wants back the royal title? We can only achieve that goal with Big Mom´s influence and strength! The only problem with that alliance is that she wanted the princess to marry her son! Do you really think she would believe that you, the commander of the royal army with a mouth as foul as can be, would be the princess? Your sister is pretty and innocent, like a lady should behave like. She just plays the role of the princess better than you could ever be.” he responded. You smiled, you could work with honesty. And you could work your way out of this mess just perfectly.

“Oh, I get it, I get it, really, I do. But how do think you will make it out alive, betraying me and all?” you stretched your words, looking your father in the eyes, carefully caressing your sword while your sister cleaned her hand and your armor from her blood. “We weren´t betraying you. Father was blind of love and I couldn´t get rid of mother. I just wanted to  be by your side. We made a mistake, we can´t get back now, so we have to figure it out together” she looked at you with big bambi eyes, she could never lie, not even now. “Looks like I have to clean up the mess you made. Do you coincidentally have another princess on board? Or should we just quickly kidnap one? Because apparently I´m not princessy enough”. You started walking away from the rim, your  family´s looks following your every move, waiting for you to tell them what you should do now. After two minuted you stopped at the rim again. “Well, it looks like you screwed Big Mom over big time. She thinks her son will marry you and with that she believes she will get control over Mariejoa. The marriage part will be fairly easy. Send me back to Mariejoa and I will make the control thing happen. But wait, I just thought of something else...what if we told them the truth? You, sweet sister, will do what you do best. You will be innocent and cry, you will tell them that we got kicked out of Mariejoa. You will tell them how deeply sorry you are, you will tell them how you wasted their time and wanted revenge on the people who overthrew our country. And then we will start a rebellion and conquer the country once again. Yes! Yes, I like that idea! You got me excited,  I´ll give you that. It´s decided, I will help you regain my throne. As long as you don´t lie to me again. If you betray me like that again, I will show no mercy. Just remember that.” you threw your head back and spun around with wide arms, laughing and smiling at your sister. “We´re there! I can see the coast!” your father declared. “Finally! Here comes my perfect sister to blow you away!” your sister cried out. She was laughing at you, sharing your joy, but you just said: “Do you have to yell that loud? It´s not what a princess does, it´s what I would do”. “Exactly!” she grinned up to you. You rolled your eyes.

As soon as your ship anchored upon the harbor, sweet commander Cracker came to show you the way to the dominating castle. “Milady, your majesty” he bowed down to your sister and father. “I see you also brought your guards” he frowned at you, who didn´t even think about bowing down in return. “I´m the commander of the royal army of Mariejoa, show some respect, bub” you hissed. “Besides, we´ve got some treasure and candy for your mother, do you really want the princess to carry it?” you added. Cracker opened his mouth to close it again, looking down. “No, but we    could´ve brought our own men to aid” he reassured her. “Great, then please do so. Princess, congratulations on your marriage, I will go seek a bar now, if you need anything, send for me”. You bowed down to your sister and went away quickly. “Wait a minute. Mama wants to see you. She asked specifically for you”. You rolled your eyes, you just needed a drink. “Fine, lead the way, commander” you gave in. The way was quiet, you sneaked some looks at the island and shops and bars. It was true, the people here all came from different races and were all friendly with each other. You smiled. Beautiful. Then there were the looks you got, they feared you. In Mariejoa people looked down on you. As they made it to the castle the door opened from itself and they entered a giant hallway. “This is your room. We will meet tonight for dinner. Have a nice day.” Cracker showed your sister her room. Your father´s room was beside hers. You didn´t expect to get a room. “Mama wants to see you right now. You can bring the gifts you spoke of, she loves treasure chests” he let you know. You just nodded confused. What was the big deal? Did she find out so quickly?

Big Mom was located in a huge room, sitting in an equal huge throne. Oh, how you envied her. But what was even more interesting was that your sister´s promised was also attendant. He sat in the corner, calm and collected, watching the scene as if he already knew what was going to happen. You put down the treasure in front of the throne and got down on one knee, head down. “It is an honor to  be called here by you. The princess can´t wait to proceed with the marriage, I ensure you our combined forces will take over the world” you pledged your honor and promised an oath. Big Mom grinned, Katakuri raised an eyebrow. You did not raise your head until you heard Big Mom speak. “(Y/N), the commander of the royal army of Mariejoa, a brave warrior. I´m a big fan. It seems like you have the holy land better under control than the king!” she laughed, you chuckled. “I don´t like being exposed” you laughed at her. “I always wanted to conquer Mariejoa, but there always was this problem with the marine, but I heard you got them under control” Big Mom crunched down to you, trying to intimidate you. “Well, you´ve got good sources, I would say. The marine is no longer a problem. I assure you” you smiled. “That´s good, indeed, that´s good. I have heard quite an interesting rumor, that the royal family is no longer royal. Is that true, princess?” Big Mom glared at you, tilting her head. You took a step back, the weight of your armor forcing itself onto your body and into your brain again. “Well, the rumor you heard is false, the royal family had to flee from Mariejoa because of the marine incident, but they still rule the country. And I´m not the princess,    I´m the commander of the royal army.” you tried to defend yourself. “Do you think you can fool me? You look just like your mother.”. Big Mom laughed and then saw the treasure chests. “Oh, they are pretty. Did you get them for me? You shouldn´t lift such weights” she scolded at you. “I´m the kind of princess that can lift 400 pounds” you stated proudly. Big Mom laughed loudly. “Have you heard that?” she turned around to where Katakuri was sitting. He had his eyes closed and smiled underneath his scarf. Let me get to the point, I want you to marry my son, not your sister.” she told you directly. You should´ve seen it coming that Big Mom would find out about the political situation of Mariejoa, but you would´ve never dreamed to actually get to marry a sweet commander. “I don´t think my sister would be too pleased to hear that, after all getting here took a long time and she must be exhausted now.” you thought out loud. “I will send them back to Mariejoa to secure the politics there. I cannot make an alliance with a land which is not secure” Charlotte Linlin mentioned. “I get that.” you admitted, you suddenly felt really dizzy and looked around the room only to meet Katakuri´s eyes who directly stared at you. You quickly looked away, but not quick enough for him not to see the blush creeping on your cheeks. “Alright. I will marry your son” you proposed. Big Mom clapped her hands. “Who would´ve thought someone would voluntarily marry a monstrous bestiality like you! Especially someone as pretty as the princess of Mariejoa!” Linlin laughed. Katakuri stood up form where he was sitting and walked up to you. He was very tall, but so were you and for once in your life you were on eyesight with someone. “I like your sword” he simply said with a deep voice, before leaving the room. You smirked. “I will open your treasure on your wedding day. The guards already sent your family back. You can stay as long as you want to. We will plan the wedding now. You can get to know my son in the meantime, he may look like a beast, but maybe you like his personality.” There it was again, Big Mom warned you about her son again, as if he would kill you. “I don´t care how he looks. It´s quite nice to have someone as tall as me. I had to kneel when I had my first kiss.” you remembered. “You are truly brave to accept that marriage” Big Mom laughed. “Would you like to dine with us?” she asked you. “Yes, but I think I might need a shower first. I smell like shit” you laughed. “You are excused then, I will see you at dinner time” Linlin clapped her hands again. You bowed down one last time and left the room.”Do you already know where your room is?” sweet commander Smoothie asked you as you left, she was waiting in the corner for you. “No, I didn´t think I would get one” you answered. Smoothie smirked. “You´re marrying my brother, did you think we would let you sleep in the porch?” she joked. “That was a rather spontaneous decision” you admitted, smirking. Smoothie showed you the way to your room, it was next to hers and your future husband´s. “He´s not mad at it, I can assure you that.” Somehow that statement made you feel really proud. “Oh, I...that´s very nice...” you stumbled over your words.  “So there´s your room, if you need anything, I´m in the room right next to you” Smoothie said. “Thanks, I just want to take a shower. I´m dining with you tonight and want to make a good impression” you were getting quite tired too. “Oh...I totally forgot that...your room doesn´t have a shower, I just bought some clothes for you. Well, I guess you just have to use mine” she reminisced. You walked with her into her room and took a long shower. You almost forgot time. The hot water woke up your numb legs and kissed your sore neck and shoulders. As you stepped out of the shower the bathroom was full of steam and mirrors were misty. You quickly dried your hair and put on the golden dress and heels Smoothie picked you out. Or at least you tried to. “Smoothie! Can you help me for a second? I´m too broad for this dress!” you whined. Smoothie rushed to your help and as the door opened you could see a snippet of Katakuri sitting in a chair, looking amused. “Breathe in” Smoothie commanded and you did as she forcefully pulled the zipper up, which pushed half your boobs out of the cleavage which was too big. “It´s too tight!” you whelped. “You look hot!” Smoothie told you. “Me or my boobs will rip this dress apart if I breathe out!” you cried. “And I can´t walk in those heels, and I look like a mess!” you continued. “Calm down, you look perfect!” Smoothie reassured you. Finally the two of you stepped out of the bathroom. You looked down, you just felt awkward and out of place. “What do you think, brother? Doesn´t she look perfect?” Smoothie asked Katakuri, who sat up straight in his chair. “Yes...I mean you look pretty...but you already did before...you are beautiful” he looked away, blushing. He always found the right words, he never embarrassed himself, he always could control himself, but you were different. There was something about you which made Katakuri feel exposed, helpless and...home.

At dinner you didn´t talk or eat much. The siblings talked to each other and Big Mom dreamed about the wedding cake. The only suspicious thing was that your fiancee wasn´t eating anything. As you were finished you went to your room. “Good night, (Y/N)” Katakuri told you, he always sounded so sincerely honest whenever he said something, even if it was something so simple and kind. The thought made you smile. “Good night, Katakuri” you said, still smiling, as you walked to your room. You saying his name, made his heart jump.

The weeks before the wedding were wonderful, you felt home, like you belonged. And you fell in love with Katakuri, as he did with you. One day he called you into his room, he said it was important with that sincere voice again. So here you were, wandering around the castle and knocking at his door. “Come in” he told you. As you entered his back was turned to you, he wasn´t wearing the scarf he always wore, which was curious because his mother insisted on it. You closed the door and stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Hey” you said softly. “I called you here because I don´t want to keep anything from you. And it would be better if you leave me before the wedding. I will now show you why Mama calls me a monster, she told me I shouldn´t, but if we´re getting married I don´t want you to accidentally see it and then be shocked. I´m sorry, I know I shouldn´t scare you...” he explained and then turned around, he wasn´t looking at you, avoiding the gruesome comments he got from everyone who knew his true form. Silly. He´s got scars on his cheeks and long teeth that looked like claws, you thought he would have a pretty smile, but right now he was frowning. You felt brave and walked towards him, you were even more brave as you cupped his cheek in your left hand and raised his chin so he would look at you. “Do you hate me now?” he asked, tears in his eyes. You didn´t understand his mother, he was beautiful and she never let him feel it. You could only imagine how self conscious he felt. “No” you told him. “Don´t you want to run away?” he asked again, this time a bit rougher, more aggressive. You smiled and started caressing his cheek. “No” you stated as you searched his eyes. “Then what do you still want here? With me?” he asked, this never happened to him. No one ever stayed with him or didn´t freak out whenever he showed someone his true form, which is why he never did. “I want to kiss you” you whispered in his ear. “Is this a joke? Are you playing with me?” he asked again. “Why would I joke about that? I really want to kiss you. I honestly don´t see the big deal with how you look.    You´re a very attractive and handsome man. And I want to kiss you really badly” you chuckled. He blushed, trying to avoid your glance. “No one´s ever wanted to kiss me” he admitted quietly. You moved your hand from his cheek to his hand and squeezed it, reassuring him you wouldn´t leave. “May I kiss you?” you asked cautiously. He nodded slightly:“Yes”. “Good” you mumbled as you leaned in, your left hand caressing his, your right hand cupping his cheek and massaging it. Your lips touched his and it felt electrifying. He gasped. “Should I stop?” you asked. You didn´t want to make him feel uncomfortable. “No, please continue” he breathed hoarsely, already missing your touch, this magical feeling. You pressed your lips against his with a little more pressure this time. After a while you felt Katakuri get more comfortable and decided to slightly suck his lip and swipe your tongue alongside it. He moaned and your tongue entered his mouth, you quickly found his tongue and got him to play along. He learned fast and picked up pace, he found his hand into your hair and caressed it and he pushed you nearer to him. The kiss could´ve lasted forever, but after a while you both needed some air and let go of each other. Katakuri´s pupils were wide as your lips parted, he was blushing and breathing heavily. You smiled shyly:“Did you like it?”. “Yes” he whispered. “Yes, very much”. “Do you want to continue?” you cheekily questioned. Before he could answer, his lips were on yours again. Fuck. He has never been in love and then you just strolled up in your armor, saying you wanted to marry him. And now you kissed him. You called him attractive and handsome. The two of you would eat together often now, you even baked him donuts. And whenever you saw him eat or sleep you just commented how cute he looked, which made him blush. You decided you loved his blush.

Soon after their first kiss, the wedding knocked on the door.

“Smoothie! This dress doesn´t fucking fit me! I look like a freaking balloon!” you complained at your wedding dress. It was sleeveless and had an extravagant circle skirt, you had problems not stumbling over. You wore your hair down and put on heels again, only this time you could walk in them. “Stop complaining! You´re late to your own wedding!” Smoothie pushed you out of the door. “Oh my! Shut up! I´m not fucking late! Besides, even if I was, the bride´s always the last one!” you told her. “Okay, okay!” Smoothie walked really past to the wedding aisle and you had trouble keeping up with her, even with you hiking up your skirt. As you finally reached the porch you were taken aback. It was like time stood still. Katakuri was wearing a white three piece suit and smiled at you like you were the sun. You were right, he had a pretty smile. And as you walked down the aisle, smiling up to him, the smile reaching far beyond your eyes, brightening up everything, he swore his heart stopped. “We will today wed (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to Charlotte Katakuri. From today on, the Big Mom pirates and the royal family of Mariejoa are an alliance! Let´s seal the deal with a kiss!” the priest was a bit too excited already, or maybe he was just drunk. But that didn´t matter, because you had him and he had you. There were only the two of you. This time Katakuri was the one to indicate the kiss, you were still to numb from feeling the way you felt around him. You wouldn´t call it love, no, love was a temporary emotion, but what you felt was instinct, devotion, passion. You weren´t thinking, you just knew one thing: You never wanted it to end. He made that same promise to you with the kiss that day, and every day after that day. You were happily married for 20 years now. You went through ups and downs and you both hated it when you fought. You still worked as the highest rank of the royal army and he still was a pirate, only his bounty has increased about 300,000,000 beli. You were convinced your man was invincible and you would have the chance to tell him you loved him every day until you died. But today felt odd, he abruptly left Pudding´s wedding to fight the captain of the Strawhats. And for the first time in your life, you were afraid he would not return.

#one piece #katakuri charlotte katakuri #katakuri x reader #imagine #one shot #scenario #one piece katakuri #one piece imagine #smoothie #cracker #big mom #one Piece smoothie #one piece cracker

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for August 24 of 2021 with Proverbs 24 and Psalm 24, accompanied by Psalm 66 for the 66th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 86 for day 236 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 24]

[Wisdom’s Warning]

Don’t envy the wealth of the wicked or crave their company.

For they’re obsessed with causing trouble

and their conversations are corrupt.

Wise people are builders—

they build families, businesses, communities.

And through intelligence and insight

their enterprises are established and endure.

Because of their skilled leadership,

the hearts of people are filled with the treasures of wisdom

and the pleasures of spiritual wealth.

Wisdom can make anyone into a mighty warrior,

and revelation-knowledge increases strength.

Wise strategy is necessary to wage war,

and with many astute advisers

you’ll see the path to victory more clearly.

Wisdom is a treasure too lofty for a quarreling fool—

he’ll have nothing to say when leaders gather together.

There is one who makes plans to do evil—

Master Schemer is his name.

If you plan to do evil, it’s as wrong as doing it.

And everyone detests a troublemaker.

If you faint when under pressure,

you have need of courage.

Go and rescue the perishing! Be their savior!

Why would you stand back and watch them stagger to their death?

And why would you say, “But it’s none of my business”?

The one who knows you completely and judges your every motive

is also the keeper of souls—and not just yours!

He sees through your excuses and holds you responsible

for failing to help those whose lives are threatened.

Revelation-knowledge is a delicacy,

sweet like flowing honey that melts in your mouth.

Eat as much of it as you can, my friend!

For then you will perceive what is true wisdom,

your future will be bright,

and this hope living within you will never disappoint you.

Listen up, you wicked, irreverent ones—

don’t harass the lovers of God

and don’t invade their resting place.

For the lovers of God may suffer adversity

and stumble seven times,

but they will continue to rise over and over again.

But the unrighteous are brought down by just one calamity

and will never be able to rise again.

Never gloat when your enemy meets disaster,

and don’t be quick to rejoice if he falls.

For the Lord, who sees your heart,

will be displeased with you and will pity your foe.

Don’t be angrily offended over evildoers or be agitated by them.

For the wicked have no life and no future—

their light of life will die out.

My child, stand in awe of Yahweh!

Give counsel to others,

but don’t mingle with those who are rebellious.

For sudden destruction will fall upon them

and their lives will be ruined in a moment.

And who knows what retribution they will face!

[Revelation from the Wise]

Those enlightened with wisdom have spoken these proverbs:

Judgment must be impartial,

for it is always wrong to be swayed by a person’s status.

If you say to the guilty, “You are innocent,”

the nation will curse you and the people will revile you.

But when you convict the guilty,

the people will thank you and reward you with favor.

Speaking honestly is a sign of true friendship.

Go ahead, build your career and give yourself to your work.

But if you put me first, you’ll see your family built up!

Why would you be a false accuser and slander with your words?

Don’t ever spitefully say, “I’ll get even with him!

I’ll do to him what he did to me!”

One day I passed by the field of a lazy man,

and I noticed the vineyards of a slacker.

I observed nothing but thorns, weeds, and broken-down walls.

So I considered their lack of wisdom,

and I pondered the lessons I could learn from this:

Professional work habits prevent poverty from becoming

your permanent business partner. And:

If you put off until tomorrow the work you could do today,

tomorrow never seems to come.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 24 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 24]

A song of David.

The earth and all that’s upon it belong to the Eternal.

The world is His, with every living creature on it.

With seas as foundations and rivers as boundaries,

He shaped the continents, fashioned the earth.

Who can possibly ascend the mountain of the Eternal?

Who can stand before Him in sacred spaces?

Only those whose hands have been washed and hearts made pure,

men and women who are not given to lies or deception.

The Eternal will stand close to them with blessing and mercy at hand,

and the God who redeems will right what has been wrong.

These are the people who chase after Him;

[like Jacob, they look for the face of God].

[pause]

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal who is powerful

and mightily equipped for battle.

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal, Commander of heaven’s army,

He is the glorious King.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 24 (The Voice)

[Psalm 66]

For the worship leader. A song.

Shout out to God, all the earth.

Erupt with joy to the one True God!

Sing of the glory due His name!

Offer Him the most magnificent praises!

Say to God, “All You have done is wondrous and causes fear!

Your power is mighty, and Your enemies pretend to submit to You.

The entire earth will bow down to worship You

and will sing glory-songs to You;

they will sing praises to Your name!

[pause]

Come and witness the True God’s endless works.

His miraculous deeds done on behalf of humanity inspire fear.

He transformed the sea into dry land;

our people passed through the river on foot!

Rejoice in Him; celebrate what He did there!

By His great might, He rules forever;

His eyes watch over all the nations,

so no one should go up against Him.

[pause]

Everyone, bless our True God!

Let praise-filled voices be heard near and far—at home and on foreign soil!

Praise the One who gives us life and keeps us safe,

who does not allow us to stumble in the darkness.

For You have put us to the test, O God;

You have refined us as silver is refined.

You trapped us with a snare;

You have laid upon our backs a heavy burden.

You allowed us to be conquered and let our enemies run over us.

We journeyed through dangers, through fire and flood,

But You led us finally to a safe place, a land rich and abundant.

I will come into Your temple with burnt offerings;

I will fulfill my promises to You—

The oaths that parted my lips

and were promises my mouth freely made when I was suffering and in anguish.

I will bring You my sacrifices—plump beasts

and the sweet smoke of consecrated rams—

I will also offer You bulls and goats.

[pause]

Come and listen, everyone who reveres the True God,

and I will tell you what He has done for me.

I cried out to Him with my mouth,

and I praised Him with my tongue.

If I entertain evil in my heart,

the Lord will not hear me.

But surely God has heard me;

He has paid attention to the urgency of my request.

May the True God be blessed,

for He did not turn away from my prayer

nor did He hold back His loyal love from me.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 66 (The Voice)

[Psalm 86]

A prayer of David.

O Eternal One, lend an ear to my prayer and answer me,

for I am weak and wanting.

Safeguard my soul, for I remain loyal to You.

Save me, Your servant, who trusts in You, my God.

O Lord, please be merciful to me,

as all day long I cry out to You.

Bring joy into the life of Your servant,

for it’s only to You, O Lord, that I offer my soul.

O Lord, You are good and ready to forgive;

Your loyal love flows generously over all who cry out to You.

O Eternal One, lend an ear and hear my prayer;

listen to my pleading voice.

When times of trouble come, I will call to You

because I know You will respond to me.

O Lord, You stand alone among the other gods;

nothing they have done compares to Your wonderful works.

O Lord, all the peoples of earth—every nation You established—

will come to You, bowing low to worship,

and rightly honor Your great name.

For You are great, and Your works are wondrous;

You are the one True God.

O Eternal One, guide me along Your path

so that I will live in Your truth.

Unite my divided heart so that I will fear Your great name.

O Lord, my God! I praise You with all that I am.

I will rightly honor Your great name forever.

For Your loyal love for me is so great it is beyond comparison.

You have rescued my soul from the depths of the grave.

O True God, arrogant people are after me.

A violent gang wants to kill me;

they have no interest in You or Your ways.

But Lord, You are a God full of compassion, generous in grace,

slow to anger, and boundless in loyal love and truth.

Look at me, and grant me Your favor.

Invest Your strength in me, Your servant,

and rescue me, Your handmaiden’s child.

Give me a sign so I may know Your goodness rests on me

and so those who hate me will be red with shame at the sight of it.

For You, O Eternal One, have come to my aid and offered me relief.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 86 (The Voice)

[httpsung]

with eyes of gold

pairing: wonpil centered (mentions of reader)

genre: fantasy, mage!wonpil, magic au

word count: 7, 392

note: so this is something I started back in the summer and I’ve finally gotten around to finishing it, it honestly felt like a struggle to complete this and though i’m not too happy with the outcome I didn’t want to just delete all the effort I put into this ;-; 

It was the kingdom kissed by the sun in a land blessed by luminous rays of warmth. Its architecture, well beyond decrepit, stood out among many monarchies igniting envy over its fulvous constructions. From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect place full of bustling life and golden grains, but just like every kingdom or hamlet there lied issues deep within.

The humblest of subjects, no matter how unfortunate or weary, adored their rulers. They were the king and queen of the last several years, generous and merciful and remaining of a lineage unbelievable to most.

Unprecedented beings, they were said to hail from a bloodline which oozed a red more brilliant than the common man, a glint of golden dust drifting from their bodies if injured.

They were magic, hearts harnessing a mystical power rumored to destroy all life if they pleased though that would never be the case since the pair were purely positive without a baleful vein interlaced in their entire being.

They were Mages.

Though there weren’t many that roamed the lands, the kingdom of Ner had come to be ruled by this race of extraordinary individuals.

The King, a light-hearted man, never failed to show off his gummy grin even in the direst situations. His smile was never to make a mockery of disasters that headed his way but to assure that he was strong and that everything would turn out okay in the end.

The Queen, seemingly frigid in the contours of her face, was the most beautiful in all the land. Her presence no matter where she went, radiated cordiality with every action.

It would have been marvelous to say that the two would succeed in ruling a stable kingdom for all of eternity while reproducing greater mages along the way.

It would have been marvelous to say such things, but sadly the sovereigns were oblivious to an irreligious act bound to take their lives, an act most thought out by the person dearest to them.

Ethan was his name.

He was a handsome man, the Kingdom of Ner’s greatest warrior, so ardent and loyal. It was staggering how quick he climbed his way up on the social latter, becoming one of the King’s dearest friends and always looking out for the Queen.

Ethan was never afraid to give constructive criticisms to the rulers out of the goodness of his heart, though under their noses he was truly malevolent, grooming them to the point of assailment.

Over the years the warrior had constructed a following so secret, instilling fear in the hopeless minds who believed that one day their king and queen would turn and wipe out all their subjects entirely. He had them deep in his clutches, brewing malicious ways to end the era of mages and form a new one under his control.

“Your Highness! It is time!” The court lady called sending the king into a frenzy of emotions at her words. Tonight, was the night and though he expected it, anxiousness still weighed heavy on his chest. He rushed down the corridors of his castle behind the woman closest to his beloved wife, beads of perspiration forming in a line on his forehead. His pounding heart felt feeble in the moment of arrival at his bedroom door. He could hear his wife’s voice call out for him, but he was unable to enter until the commotion of her birthing his child had stopped.

The youthful king cringed at how much pain his darling was in just to give life to the little person they both been waiting patiently on over the last nine months. The first heir to the throne and a promising being to fill their souls with a greater love beyond what they shared just between themselves.

After waiting, listening and praying, his eyes lit up at the tiniest cry which grew in sound a few seconds later. The creak of his bedroom door had him turning around immediately, amber eyes brimming with tears.

The court lady bowed her head, stepping aside for the man to get a glimpse of the beauty that was his wife, lying peacefully in bed with an infant wrapped in her arms.

“My king…” The queen’s exasperated eyes raised from the babe to admire her patient husband.

“He’s beautiful.” There was a break in her voice, not from the stress of hours of labor but the sheer joy she felt having her little one right in front of her.

“He is and so are you my love.” The king smiled warmly as he approached her, his lips connecting with the top of her head as he stared down at the pudgy infant in her arms. His hand gently glided over the baby’s soft head, fingertip trailing his features.

“I thought of the perfect name for him… Wonpil.” He smiled watching his baby boy fidget at the spoken name.

“I love it.” The queen nodded, her eyes drifting back to her baby. The two watched as the little one began to open his eyes, expecting them to be a lustrous combination of yellow and brown.

An infant mage’s irises were said to glow golden at first glance signifying that they harbored magically ability.

Wonpil blinked several times, his tiny eyes adjusting to the light without a flash of gold to be seen. His irises were simply a deep brown which had his mother and father a bit concerned.

If a mage baby’s eyes didn’t exude gold the first time they opened them, that meant that he or she lacked any magical power.

“It’s alright…” The king kissed his wife’s cheek. “It has always been a rarity that two mages give birth to a baby who is not.” A soft smile formed on his lips as he carefully took his son into his arms.

“We’ll love him no matter what.”

It was a month after the prince’s birth, a night where the heaven’s unleashed a wrath of rainstorms that kept every person in the kingdom indoors.

“How is Wonpil?” The king asked as he eyed the harshness of the storm from his bedroom window. “Sleeping soundly, my love.” The queen spoke softly as she approached her husband resting her hand on the back of his shoulder.

“It’s surprising, I didn’t expect him to sleep through the whirling winds. He’s such a gentle baby.” She giggled with a content sigh. The king turned around, linking his arms around her waist, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Well then, it’s safe to say he takes after his mother.” He beamed.

There was a knock at the door that had her slipping from his arms, not before she placed a sweet kiss to his lips.

“He takes after his father too.” She said as she opened the door.

“Milady… here’s your evening brew.” The court lady gave a smile as she bowed her head, holding out a tray of piping hot tea that filled the room with a sweet aroma.

“Thank you, Hara, have a good night.” The queen smiled to her dearest friend, one she had been friends with since childhood. The queen took the tray and shut the door. She admired the porcelain cups as she walked the tray over to their night table setting it down carefully.

“My dear, your favorite drink is here.” The queen smiled as she picked up the cup handing it to her king who took it delicately so none would waste.

“Thanks, my love.” He smiled back taking a sip from the cup in his hands, watching her do the same. The taste was something they both enjoyed, and it was no surprise that they finished it within a minute.

Wonpil began to cry, the queen putting down her cup to scoop her baby into her arms. “I’m here little one.” She whispered to calm him down. As she held him her body began to feel odd, limbs numbing while a painful surge hit her chest.

“Oh, my…” Her voice cracked as she looked at her husband who clenched his chest, a pained look on his face.

“My… dear...” The king spoke, seemingly breathless as he reached out for her. He collapsed on one knee, the queen placing her baby down before she accidentally dropped him.

“What’s happening?!” She managed to yell out, her legs giving out, a fiery pain shooting through her veins.

Wonpil began to wail again but neither of them could move, bodies perspiring profusely, their olive complexions fading to a sickly pale. They were dying, poisoned by the beverage they so loved.

“My baby...” The queen cried out until she couldn’t anymore, her husband silenced just seconds before her. There was no life left in them.

Wonpil was left to wail, the innocent infant unaware of the death of his parents. He cried himself to sleep, not even the loud creak from the door awakening him.

“It is done.” A dark voice hovered over the baby that lay sleeping.

“What do we do about the babe Ethan?” A familiar woman asked as she gazed at the lifeless bodies of her former rulers.

“Dispose of him, Hara.” The man spoke, the moonlight illuminating his cryptic grin. Hara froze, she never imagined she had to murder a baby in all this.

“But he’s no mage remember? They said his eyes never glistened gold… he won’t be harmful to the new kingdom.” She tried to persuade him, her voice solemn in tone.

“I don’t care. Dispose of him, there should be no blood of mages left.” Ethan approached her his demeanor threatening. “Do you dare defy your new king?” He asked, grabbing her face so she couldn’t look away.

“N-no… your highness.” Hara replied, grabbing the infant quickly after he shoved her away. She whisked the baby down the dark corridors covered carefully to remain unrecognizable. Wonpil began to whine, making her nervous as she made it past castle walls. The storm had created a fog that settled over the village.

Hara didn’t want to harm Wonpil, not after acting as an accessory to the murder of her dearest friend the queen. The guilt had already begun to eat away at her heart outweighing the love she had for the despicable Ethan who she knew would not return her heart no matter how many times he promised. She destroyed a family for a love she would never have, eyes welling with tears as she glanced down at the baby boy who stared back at her.

“I’m sorry Wonpil...” She choked, coming to a halt near the village entrance where she placed the baby boy among garbage and rubble, scurrying away into the shadows. She didn’t have it in her to kill him, enough had died before dawn.

Once placed down Wonpil began to cry though many wouldn’t hear him. The rain started to fall once again, the cool droplets making the baby boy cranky, his cries growing louder.

“Oh dear… what ruckus so late.” A voice spoke, a cloaked figure approaching the soaked infant. Having witnessed the entire scene, hearing the name of the babe being called, she stared at Wonpil, rugose hands reaching out to grab him.

“What a feeble human, leaving a baby out in this weather...” She frowned, tilting her head to get a better look at him. She wasn’t too fond of his kind unlike others of her race, but she wasn’t completely heartless to leave a child so young to rot.

“There, there…” Her tone changed into one more soothing to calm the little one. “You’re quite the ugly thing… but look at those eyes.” The woman got a good look at Wonpil’s irises that shined a beautiful gold, a trait his parents thought they would never see, a trait that showed itself too late.

“There, there little mage.” Her thumb caressed his cheek, her knowledge of what he was not bothersome in the least bit. A sudden rustling made the woman secure the hood on her head, being sure to keep her pointed ears hidden. Elves belonged in the forest, so, for now, her exploration of the brilliant kingdom of Ner was cut short.

Whispers could be heard sprinting through endless green of trees, tiny footsteps in a hurry to awaken a figure almost princely.

“Where is he?! Where is he?!” Little voices are carried along with the wind, tiny bodies dodging nature’s obstacles hoping not to miss a step.

“There he is! I see him, I see him!” A burst of excitement from their lungs as the miniature duo spot who they were seeking, a beautiful boy sprawled out in the forest’s meadow, rays of sunlight shining down on his sleeping form. His brown hair glistened in the light, silky strands gliding across his forehead thanks to a soft breeze.

“Wakey, wakey!” Small hands pat his olive skin, his roseate lips twitching to signal he was awakening.

“Just a little longer…” His voice, soft yet groggy vibrated from his lips.

“But it’s time to get up! Adeline sends you to the village. Get up, get up!” Stubby fingers tickle his nose, igniting a potent sneeze that sent the little bodies floating in the air.

“Help us!” They whined, prompting the male to finally open his eyes, eyelashes filtering out the sunlight.

“Oh!” He sat up quickly at the sight of his little friends floating away from him. With a rub of his nose and a flick of his finger, the boy lured them back down to safely rest in his lap, patting their heads as an apology.

“I’m sorry, Gamel and Gamie.” A light chuckle slipped past his lips as he stretched his arms into the air.

“Wonpilly it’s okay! Your mother sends us to send you into the village!” The two gnome children giggle. Their attention is captured by a lonely butterfly sending them into a frenzy of laughter as they chased it in circles.

Wonpil shook his head at the two and stood up, grabbing his water gourd off the ground and securing it to the cummerbund around his waist. “Did she send any money Gamel?” Wonpil caught the butterfly in his own hands to get the attention of the little gnomes again.

“Oh, yes Wonpilly! Three rubies.” The petite male handed over a clothed sack heavy with stones a brilliant red.

“Thanks, Gamel.” Wonpil let the butterfly flutter from his palm, the children running after it once again.

“Well, I’m going now!” The little ones stopped briefly to wave him off. Wonpil threw up one hand to say goodbye while the other pulled his pale colored hood over his head.

It wouldn’t be a long excursion to the bantam village of Faron as it lied a few miles south of the edge of the thriving forest he lived in. The Faron village was partly friendly full of some good-natured folk and some horribly conniving. It sheltered several bandits which the boy didn’t mind putting in place a time or two with his unique gift of magic. He often worked his miracles in secret and it was a shame to say that he didn’t have much control of it. It wasn’t such a good feat knowing the world wouldn’t take kindly to his abilities, at least that is always what his mother had told him.

“Wonpil, never show your magic outside the forest. Not many people would understand such a gift, be careful my child.”

His mother’s words echoed through his mind. Wonpil shook the thought with his lips forming a small grin. He would be fine if he wasn’t caught in the act.

He arrived in Faron when the sun was highest in the sky, wiping the bit of sweat from his forehead.

“What a hot day…” He muttered to himself, already missing the gentle coolness of his woodland. Wonpil unlatched his water gourd, popping open the cork. He took a quick swig that quenched his thirst, a satisfied sigh easing from his drenched lips.

A loud roar of applause piqued his curiosity as he began his walk through the village, dusty road performers dancing and doing tricks to entertain the villagers for a bit of cash. He was amused, smiling as he continued, the thought of stopping to watch them later crossing his mind. Maybe after he finished his mother’s errand he would watch them.

Wonpil only visited the hamlet for two things each time, a rare flower rumored to hail from the Kingdom of Isegard cold to the touch and a ground herb grown in the kingdom of Yulina which had a distinct aroma. Though she never told him, he knew the reason why his mother would send him to retrieve such items, she was sick. He could tell that whatever ailed her had been slowly progressing over the last couple years, but he had hoped that these ingredients would cure her eventually.

 “Here it is!” Wonpil exclaimed as he pushed open the swinging doors to a dusty shop. A bulky man with a beard eyed him with a raised brow.

“Long time no see.” Wonpil smiled, prompting a gruff chuckle to bubble from the hulking male’s throat.

“It’s you kid! What can I do for ya?” The man placed his hands on the counter top he stood behind.

“The usual two.” Wonpil grinned, feeling comfortable enough to drop his hood from his head.

“Of course.” The man’s voice boomed throughout the shop as he turned to head toward the back while Wonpil admired the latest items on display. He picked up a short sword admiring the heavy alloy, his voice calling out to the shopkeeper.

“So, what’s new Bongchol? Any interesting news from the lands?” Wonpil asked curiously, his chocolate irises still gazing over weaponry.

“Not much kid… but I did hear a rumor from a traveler that the princess of Yulina will marry the prince of Isegard. It may not happen though.” He said as he returned with what Wonpil desired.

“That’ll be three rubies.” Bongchol placed everything in a small sack, tying it with a sturdy string before opening his calloused palm waiting for his payment.

“Oh, come on Bong, Bong” Wonpil revealed a wide smile as he approached the counter, knowing the male didn’t take well to the silly nickname he’d given him.

“I’m your best customer, can’t you charge me two rubies instead of three?” He asked cutely, batting his eyelashes to add an extra flare.

“No,” Bongchol grunted, wriggling his thick fingers for the boy to hurry and pay. Wonpil scrunched his nose and sighed, pulling out the bag given to him by Gamel.

“You sure?” He questioned the impatient man behind the counter whose brows now furrowed.

“Three rubies unless you give up that fancy looking earpiece in your left ear, then I’ll charge you two.” Bongchol flashed him a dirty grin, a piece of his last meal caught between his front teeth.

“Never.” Wonpil stiffened, fingertips gliding over the dangling earring in his ear infused with a small yellow stone. It was a gift from his mother.

Defeated he handed over the bag of rubies, taking his new bag of materials before slipping on his hood again.

“I tried.” He said with a shrug and a laugh, securing his purchase in his cummerbund.

“You always do.” A hardy laugh from Bongchol had Wonpil waving his hand goodbye, exiting the shop to make his way back to his home.

“Someone stop them!’ A scream in the distance had Wonpil hurrying toward the sound while some people scattered away. It was where he saw the road performers now being hounded by bandits for their hard-owned money. He could feel the displeasure creeping under his skin as he watched, taking quick steps forward to stop the act since no one else seemed up for the threat. It was a test to see how much he could do with magic, but he knew to be discreet while using it.

“It’d be nice if you three imbeciles would stop this nonsense. If you want rubies, go out and make your own.” Wonpil approached them, his hood shielding his eyes.

“What did you say, runt?” One of the bigger marauders turned around to face him, raising a swatter with means to attack.

“I think you heard me clearly...” He jested to the three of them, dodging the first swift swing from the cumbersome man.

“Too slow.” Wonpil smiled, a crowd gathering around the scene in confoundment. A hasty kick to the bandit behind him surprised the other two, offended that such a slim boy had the guts to take them on.

“Come here!” They managed to grab a hold of Wonpil who inhaled deeply and exhaled air in form of a whistle from his lips, a gush of wind knocking the two foragers’ off him. It was a magic that happened so fast, leaving the villagers in awe at the collapsed troublemakers. Wonpil’s chest tightened at the sudden nervousness of overdoing it, snatching the sack of rubies from one of the bandits and tossing it to a grateful road performer before fleeing the hamlet.

He ran as fast as he could, glancing back to make sure he wasn’t followed into the forest. People hardly entered the woodland out of fear of what may be lurking inside, and he wanted to keep it that way safe from human a grasp.

 I’m back!” Wonpil removed his hood, revealing his face to his mother who sat against their home hidden in the trunk of a giant tree.

“Welcome back.” She gave him a warm smile. Wonpil gazed over his mother’s form as she sat, taking note if anything was different. Her tanned complexion seemed the same, dark hair tucked behind her pointed ears, crescent eyes still a deep onyx. She was an elf hailing from a different forest far away, one she had fled due to a draining war that caused the coppice to slowly die. Wonpil knew by age ten she wasn’t the person who birthed him, but she was the only mother he had ever known.

“You’ve been using magic, haven’t you?” She narrowed her eyes at her son, Wonpil jumped and waved his hands dismissively.

“I—how did you know?” He asked knowing he couldn’t fool her if he tried. “I can sense it.” She chuckled, a horrible cough following.

“Are you alright?” Wonpil’s brows creased with concerned as she nodded. “I’m fine… but be careful as I’ve said before. You can’t quite control your abilities yet you nugget.” She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily. She was trying her best to hide how tired she was, though she hadn’t done much in the day. It was the illness slowly poisoning her and she couldn’t predict how much longer she’d have left to spend with the boy she raised.

“I know… okay.” Wonpil gave her a smile and handed over the goods from Faron. Her eyes opening once more.

“Here’s the usual.” He said as he sat down comfortably beside her.

“Thank you.” She smiled, thankful that he had done as she asked.

Wonpil sat in silence with her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep. When he was sure she was completely knocked out he carried her inside their home, placing her lissome body into bed.

“Sleep, tight mom…”

Wonpil rose with the sun the next morning, heading deep into viridescent woods to explore. He was familiar with all its inhabitants stopping to occasionally to make conversation and share his findings with elves and the like. It was a great start to an ordinary day without worry of anything going wrong, or so he thought.

“Wonpilly!”

“Wonpil!” Distant cries could be heard calling after him, two stout bodies catching up to him and clinging to him with tears.

“Gamel... Gamie? What’s wrong?” He questioned the tiny gnomes, kneeling to sooth their tears with gentle pats on the head.

“Mother! Your mother!” Gamie replied, wiping her dripping nose.

“She’s sick, she won’t move! She calls you Wonpil!” Gamel added.

Wonpil’s heart dropped as he hurried behind the little ones who led the way to a trickling stream deep in the brush where he found his mother collapsed near the water.

“Mother!” Wonpil panicked, hurrying over to gently raise her head.

A soft groaned escaped her, skin pale and weary eyes trying their best to open.

“I’m sorry… I should have told you sooner I was dying.” Her words struck his heart, Wonpil choking back the emotion threatening to expel from the back of his throat.

“I’m sorry… I’ve sent you to Faron so many times and still the concoction of the winter flower and the dorma herb still didn’t work.” She let out a tired chuckle, tear droplets forming at the corner of her eyes.

Gamel and Gamie sobbed to the side of them, the situation too grand for their little hearts to take. “Hush now little ones. I’ll be with you even if you don’t see me.” Her lips cracked a weak smile.

Wonpil’s eyes burned red with tears as he listened to her frail speech, he didn’t want her to go, she couldn’t leave him alone.

“Don’t you cry, my boy.” She managed to raise her hand, thumb caressing a straying tear from his cheek.

“There’s something I must tell you.” She added with a faulty sigh.

“You Wonpil are a prince, hailing from the Kingdom of Ner.” Her words had his eyes widening, his heart pounding in his chest. That couldn’t have been possible.

“I found you one night after a storm, among rubble, crying your little heart out.” A light smile graced her features as she continued speaking.

“I found out there was a horrible act against your birth parents... the former king and queen of a bloodline of powerful mages was poisoned by dark magic discovered by their loyal knight... You, my son, are the rightful heir to their throne and a mage yourself.”

Wonpil shook his head in disbelief he had heard stories from the forest’s inhabitants and even his mother about the mages of Ner said to have eyes of gold. He always thought they were extinct and never thought he’d be one of them.

“It’s true…” She nodded weakly, your eyes flash a beautiful gold that you’ve never noticed, I can even see it now.” She stroked his cheek before dropping her hand, Wonpil resting it on her stomach.

“Journey to Ner Wonpil… I’ve been hearing horrible things over the years about the reigning King. He’s despicable man who treats his people like filth.” A rough cough escaped her lungs, the pain she had been enduring for so long becoming too much.

“Go reclaim your throne my son, liberate your people and show what a great leader you could be.”

Her eyes drifted close, smile remaining as she took her last breath. Wonpil collapsed on her chest crying out for her to come back. It hurt him to lose the only person who cared for him and learning that he missed out on parents that would have loved him the same if they were alive settled into his soul.

He stood, taking a few steps from his elf mother’s body to wash his face at the stream. “I’ll do as you wish mom…” He sniffled, staring at his reflection in the rippling water his dark irises glowing amber. A bit shocked, he stared at himself in awe, what his mother had told him was true, this was the first time he’s seen his eyes gold.

With a new goal rattling his thoughts Wonpil turned to his mother’s body and lifted her up a fire burning within his heart. He was going to travel to Ner and confront the king.

He left the forest with a tearful goodbye after burying his mother and promising the two little gnomes that he would return someday soon. The journey to Ner would be long but Wonpil was determined to go on without stopping, except for short breaks in small villages. 

By day three, of his journey he had stopped in a village called Mella to restock on food and to refill his gourd with water. As he stood in the market, waiting for a grandma to fetch him bread he wanted to purchase, his eyes caught a sight he never expected to see.

Wonpil stared at the girl who walked with chains around her ankles while a young man walked behind her ordering her around. He frowned as he watched the young lady who traveled barefoot sit outside of a building while the male she was with went inside with a threat that she should remain there “Like a good pet or else.”

After securing his purchase Wonpil approached the young woman who kept her eyes on the ground. The clothes she wore were battered, her appearance unkempt and unclean but she was beautiful nonetheless.

“You shouldn’t let someone like that boss you around.” Wonpil stood in front of her, holding out his hand for her to stand. The girl stared up at him, her eyes defeated and rather blank. “I don’t know who he is to you…but you shouldn’t be treated this way.” He gave her a warm smile and she turned her head.

“He’s… he’s the young lord that I serve, I have no choice but to listen to him.” She mumbled.

Wonpil glanced at her shackled ankles and with a twirl of his finger, he unlocked them, making her look to him in surprise.

“Now you have a choice.” Wonpil smiled, holding out his hand again. She hesitantly placed her hand on his still shocked she was free of her chains.

“What are you...?” She questioned him, and he placed a finger over his lip to silence her.

“I’m Wonpil and I’m on my way to the Kingdom of Ner to reclaim my throne.” He grinned. She stared at him a bit confused, her head nodding slowly.

“I’m...” She started to speak her name, but it was yelled by the wicked young man who barged out of the building they were in front of.

“Y/n!” He yelled, and she flinched drawing back away from Wonpil to turn to the man who seethed with anger at the sight of her being free.

“Young master I…” She started to speak again but Wonpil stood in front of her.

“Y/n... what a pretty name. A name that deserves to be free.” He smiled ignoring the man who claimed ownership of her.

Y/n stared into Wonpil’s eyes, tears welling in her own. She had been enslaved for so long, bullied by the man who shared the same age as her, she was tired of suffering by him. She looked passed Wonpil as the guy who was once her master tried to charge at the boy who was saving her life.

“Look out!” She shouted as she pushed Wonpil out of the way throwing a powerful kick toward the young lord which knocked him a great distance away.

Wonpil stared at her in surprise, she was quick and quite strong. He smiled when he realized he didn’t have to use any magic to save her when she was pretty good on her own.

Y/n turned to look at Wonpil with an appreciative smile and he grabbed her hand, leading her to run away with him.

He learned so much about her while she traveled with him. Y/n had no recollection of her parents but what stood out in her memory was that she was from a clan of humans called the Anohla.

“I’ve heard about them!” Wonpil beamed upon hearing the familiar name. “From the forest... I was told that your people are unique, quick and agile with unimaginable strength.” He smiled at her.

“I suppose…” Y/n nodded rubbing her arm. “I always thought I was weird…” She admitted.

“Well if you’re weird then I am too… I’m a mage after all.” Wonpil said confidently, he had come to embrace the title since he left home.

Y/n gave him a laugh and Wonpil laughed with her, the two walking until night fall. Wonpil collected fallen twigs and branches along the forest floor to build a fire while Y/n prepared their meal.

“All done!” Wonpil cheered as he lined the wood together. He kneeled and with a snap of his fingers, he lit a fire, blowing air from his lips which surrounded the flames with a protective barrier to keep it from spreading off anywhere.

“It’s so warm…” Y/n said with a relaxing sigh.

“It is...” Wonpil smiled as he stared into the flames, reflecting on his journey so far, in just a couple days the two of them would arrive in the kingdom of Ner and though he had been looking forward to this moment ever since he left his home, he was nervous.

“So… what will you do once you’re there…?” Y/n started to speak as she placed a berry she picked earlier into her mouth.

“When you confront the king... will you kill him for killing your birth parents...?” She asked, her voice was solemn yet curious to what the young mage’s goal was.

Wonpil sighed as he drew his knees to him.  

“I should…” He spoke low as he picked up a twig, drawing symbols into the dirt.

“I should… revenge seems like the right thing to do right?” He looked at Y/n with pleading eyes though he wasn’t expecting her to answer him.

“I don’t think I can though...” He continued, eyes focusing on the ground again with a faint smile on his lips.

“I��ve never had a chance to meet my birth parents, but I get this feeling right here...” Wonpil placed a hand on his chest.

“They wouldn’t want me to commit such an act no matter the circumstance.” He said earnestly which made Y/n give him a small smile.

“You’re a good person Wonpil…worthy to become a great king…”

Wonpil turned to her with a bashful grin, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Thanks, Y/n…” He said before his eyes widened remembering something he kept hidden in his travel bag.

“Oh! I almost forgot…” He pulled out a pair of clothed shoes beautifully stitched. In the last village the two were in Wonpil bought her a pair of shoes without her knowledge, he didn’t know how long Y/n had gone without something to protect her feet and though she walked around as if she were fine he felt she was deserving of something nice to wear.

“Here... I tried to guess your size… I hope it’s close enough.” He placed the shoes in front of her, watching her reaction. Y/n’s eyes grew wide her lips slightly parted as if she didn’t know what to say. Suddenly the young woman buried her face in her hands before he could catch the tears slipping down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t have to for him to know that she was appreciative, it was the first gift she had ever received in her life.

“Don’t cry...”

In the kingdom of Ner the people prepared for an event they weren’t too thrilled to attend. It was a ceremony to announce their future king, the spoiled son of their tyrant ruler Ethan. 

The young prince’s name was Jaehyung. He was tall and handsome and constantly nagged about how he wanted his ceremony to be the grandest of them all, it was his goal to impress his friends from neighboring lands.

Little did he know that with the true heir to the throne approaching, the day that was supposed to be the best of his life would now become the worst.

Wonpil stepped foot onto the golden cobblestone of the Ner kingdom. A surge of familiar energy shooting through his veins and memories of people who were once happy flooding his mind. These memories were a drastic contrast to what he gazed at ahead of him. The people appeared miserable the air around them rich with morbid thoughts and sadness.

“This is it huh…?” Y/n asked as she stood close to him, her eyes wandering from villager to villager before landing on the grand castle in the distance just straight ahead.

“Yeah…” Wonpil muttered, his eyes flickering gold as he entered further into the village. Y/n followed him ignoring the eyes that gazed at them especially those of an older woman who stared at Wonpil as if she had seen a ghost, tears bulging in her eyes as she watched the young man whisk past her.

“Wonpil…” She whispered his name and when he turned around she looked away. He didn’t need to know she was the one who ripped him from his home. She already felt guilty enough for messing up his life, ridding the world of his parents and she deserved to suffer with those horrible memories without forgiveness. 

“The prince is alive…” She murmured with a faint smile.

Wonpil listened to the people chatter as he made his way through the villages, there was a ceremony to be held in a few hour’s time to name the new king. 

This was the first time in a long time he felt angered upon hearing something and Y/n could see it on his face. Without saying a word, she reached for his hand and held it to keep him calm and let him know everything was going to be okay.

The anger he’d been avoiding about family was on the rise, but he couldn’t lose sight that his return to his native land should be nothing but peaceful. Wonpil needed the phony royal family to step down peacefully.

When the hour of the ceremony began, everyone gathered at the castle. Crowds full of chattering people all huddled together to watch the induction of the current prince to king. Ethan stood smugly as he gazed at his people ignoring their displeased faces without a care. He knew no one would try to ruin the special occasion without the death penalty weighing over their heads.

As the trumpets sounded he prepared himself to speak with his son Jaehyung and his wife at his side.

“My people it is today where things are going to change for the better. I, King Ethan will be stepping down as king to hand over the throne to my son, Prince Jaehyung who-”

“Who’s not a real prince at all!” A voice broke the silence of people, causing eyes to turn from the royal family as two bodies made their way through the crowd. Wonpil walked confidently with Y/n behind him, a tenacious look on his face as he kept his eyes fixed on the man who murdered his parents.

Ethan gawked in shock as he watched the young man approach closer. He noticed his sharp eyes shimmering amber, a gold that he hadn’t seen in years. His heart sped up, his body suddenly feeling ill and panicked as he stared the boy down. He was a spitting image of the former mage king.

Ethan thought he was dead. He was supposed to be dead.

“Seize him!” Ethan shouted, and the guards shot from every end, drawing their swords in front of Wonpil to keep him from walking any further. Y/n stood close to him, her guard rising, eyes narrowing to defend her friend.

“King Ethan! A tyrant who’s ruled over the last eighteen years….” Wonpil turned to face the crowd who stared at him in confusion, some in awe.

“This man who killed the former king and queen with poison and threw away their newborn son to die…” Wonpil placed his hand over on chest, his body emitting a soft glow of gold light which evoked whispers to spread throughout the crowd.

“A… mage…? I thought they were extinct…?”

“He’s like the previous rulers? Is he back from the dead?”

“This man who ruled his people in fear… is not your king at all and neither is his son… I am Wonpil, the son of the mages who once ruled this once peaceful land.”

There were gasps from the crowd, stunned faces even from the guards and prince Jaehyung himself while his father was nowhere to be seen.

Y/n who watched Wonpil speak in front of the entire kingdom grew unaware of the furious Ethan who managed to make his way down, snatching a sword from one of his men.

“You little bastard!” Everyone heard the king yell as he swung his blade quickly to strike Wonpil in the back. Y/n was quicker however, and managed to jump in the way before the strike could hit her friend, letting blood spill from her own body. She was cut deep from her shoulder across her breast, falling to her knees.

 Wonpil turned around in jolt to catch her, watching her limp form bleed.

“Y/n… no... no!” He screamed out to her, the power of his yell creating a pulsing wind to explode from his body sending some of the innocent villagers flying as well as the guards and Ethan.

Realizing they could get hurt once they hit the ground Wonpil raised his hand through tears stopping the bodies in mid-air and making them land safely on their feet.

“See! This monster! That’s why I killed his parents! Look how dangerous mages can be!” Ethan shouted, wanting his people to agree with him but they only stared at him with furious eyes while Wonpil mourned over his friend.

“You’re the only monster here!” A man from the crowd shouted, an uproar of people agreeing with him. Ethan turned to his guards to protect him and was stunned at how they turned their noses away. Realizing no one was going to listen to him he raised his sword shakily to strike at Wonpil again but this time he froze the moment the young man turned to glare with golden eyes.

Wonpil stood with Y/n in his arms, paralyzing Ethan with a force of magic unseen to the human eye, making him crumble to his needs before him and beg for forgiveness. There was a part of him wanting to end the man’s life. He was evil, undeserving of forgiveness for murdering his parents, hurting the people of this kingdom and now his friend.

He watched Ethan grovel in pain, his son Jaehyung running down to be by his father’s side. Wonpil kept his golden glare on him, intensifying the pain he was feeling.

“Stop it!” Jaehyung cried out though it was deaf to Wonpil’s ears.

“Wonpil…”

Y/n’s faint voice is what snapped him out of it. His eyes glancing down at the wounded girl in his arms. 

“Stop... it... I’m alright...” She spoke with discomfort.

 “Y/n...” His eyes faded from a fierce gold back to a warm brown.

He was relieved she was alive.

Wonpil’s magic hold on Ethan vanished giving the despicable man relief to breathe.

He was seized seconds after, ripped apart from his son’s grasp and taken away by royal guards. Though Jaehyung was hurt he couldn’t deny that his father was a malevolent man and came to terms with his punishment for years of crimes. The young man forced out an apology on the behalf of his wicked family even though he expected Wonpil to not except it. Jaehyung was surprised when he was told that he was forgiven.

The royal court was cleansed of those who supported Ethan and aided in the death of the former mage rulers announcing Wonpil the rightful heir to rule the throne.

A week later Wonpil stood at a bedside holding his hand out and smiling as Y/n took it. Though she was still healing from her wound she requested to be a part of what would be the greatest day of his life.

“Ready…?” He smiled as he helped her stand.

“I’m ready... are you?” Y/n asked. She was beautifully dressed in fresh clothes that fit her taste while Wonpil stood in princely layers, his eyes sparkling gold as he stared at her fondly, nodding his head.

“I’m ready…” 

He was truthful despite the hint of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, 

Wonpil was ready to face the kingdom he had never known and make it great again just like his parents before him.

Guards guided them to castle’s main balcony, Wonpil’s aura glistening amber as he looked at the faces of the crowd, smiling faces who had been waiting for their new mage king.

#day6writersnet #wonpil scenario #day6 scenarios #kim wonpil #forgive any mistakes this was too long to edit and I quit rip #there are going to be quite a few interesting names in the universe of this au be prepared #i'm relieved I finally got this up so now I can move on to much better works ;o;

[ecotone99]

I Talked to My Brother [RF]

Levi was finally home for Thanksgiving break. He hadn’t seen his family in three months, since he returned to school on the other side of the country, so was desperate to spend one-on-one time with each of them.

FaceTime was cool, and chatting on the phone was fine, but neither afforded the same solace of knowing with certainty that you are alone with someone. Anyone could walk past or be just out of frame when communicating virtually. Now that Levi was home, he could have conversations in which he could see body language, read silences, and listen for footsteps or creaking floorboards in adjacent rooms.

There are also certain topics it’s just easier to discuss in person. For that, Levi was exceedingly grateful, because, for the most part, they were topics he had no interest in. Things like his parents bothering him about career plans after he graduates and where he’ll live, or his brothers asking about his girlfriend Stella and whether or not she spends the night at his place. All kinds of things he’d rather be left unsaid.

But Levi was the oldest of five brothers, and like it or not, his siblings had a laundry list of burning questions for him that they rarely had the opportunity to launch into on the phone. He was the oldest by a wide margin, all the others were still in grade school.

The youngest, Kyle, was only five. The second youngest, Silas, just seven. The second oldest, Tyson, was growing into his own at ten years old, but still firmly planted in childhood’s soil. Reese was twelve, almost thirteen years old, so the oldest, and straddling the line somewhere between boy and man. Reese looked up to Levi like he was the sky.

Reese was the only one of the boys with his own cellphone, so the only one privileged to daily conversations with their brother. Levi made a point to call him every single day after he moved away. The first time they had a big fight and Reese stopped picking up his calls, Levi texted threatening to fly home to reconcile with him. Due to the age discrepancy, Levi served as somewhat of a second father figure for the boys, even though he was still a boy himself in more ways than one.

Ironically, despite having two dads, Levi grew up without much of a male presence. His biological father was absent, and his stepfather was deeply troubled. This left him simultaneously unprepared and unshakably determined to be a healthy role model for his brothers, ending that cycle in its tracks. He knew what he didn’t know, but he figured these kids were better off taking advice from a good guy guessing his way through life than a bad guy who knew what he was doing.

As he settled in from the flight home that holiday, he could already see piles of food in iridescent disposable containers piled high on every available surface in the kitchen. “Great, I’m starving!” He rejoiced as he reached for a platter of warm turkey legs. “Hey, hey, leave it. This is all for the church.” Helen, the boys’ mother, chided, swatting his hand away. “I’m cooking ours up tomorrow.”

Levi sighed and resigned himself to some cold leftover franks and beans in the fridge as he eyed the abundant piles of Thanksgiving fixings with envy. But, as he reminded himself it was for the homeless, he recalibrated his jealousy to an appropriate level.

He wondered where Reese was. He’d been home since late last night and barely seen him. Usually his brothers shadowed him from the moment he walked in the door, right up until he walked back into the airport, ever since he started spending most of the year away at school.

With his mom busy cooking and his brothers nowhere to be found, he headed back upstairs to call his girlfriend Stella and find out about how her trip home was going.

He didn’t make it more than two paces up the stairs before he heard Matt, his stepdad, screaming for him from two beers deep at eleven in the morning: “Lee! Get down here. Need you.” He was reluctant to indulge the request, but instinct told him it wasn’t really a request.

He dragged himself to the den and nodded, trying to look unassuming. “Where’s Reese?” Matt demanded, not taking his eyes away from the TV. “Don’t know,” Levi replied, figuring the less he said the less could be used against him. “Reeeeeeeeeese!” Matt hollered from his chair. Silence. “Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese?!” Matt bellowed again, opening a third can. Silence.

“Guess he’s out.” Levi reasoned. “Well, when he gets back, the two of you come in here.” Matt directed. “Yes Sir.” Levi reassured him, dipping out as fast as he could manage. He turned back towards the kitchen. “Hey, Mom, where’s Kyle, Silas and Tyson?” “Playing at the neighbors, I think. Why, you want me to get them—” “No, no.” Levi cut her off, relieved everyone was out until Matt’s mood passed. He left Helen to do her cooking and crept back up the stairs to try Stella again.

As he passed Reese’s bedroom, he saw him sprawled out on the floor with a comic book. “Hey!” Levi exclaimed, standing in the doorframe. “What?” Reese asked, not looking up either. “Didn’t you hear Dad calling you from downstairs?” “Yah.” Reese said, turning a page.

“If Dad knew you were here that whole time, he’d whoop you.” Levi reminded him. Reese closed the comic and looked him the eye. “Well then he better not find out I was here, right?” Reese replied, raising an eyebrow as he tried to discern whether Levi was warning or threatening him.

“Yah, damn straight. We should get out of here for a couple hours. At least.” Levi cautioned. Reese shoved a couple things in his pockets and followed Levi carefully down the stairs. Reese dashed through the front door without a coat, so Levi risked discovery to return and grab him one. The Montana November had been pleasantly forgiving, rarely dropping past the low 50s, but it still required a layer of protection to be pleasant.

They pulled their coats closer and crunched the carpet of dead leaves underneath their feet as they made their way down the back-access road. Nobody ever went down that way, and cars couldn’t drive on it, so they’d retain their head start no matter what. The brothers walked to the tune of their own thoughts for somewhere between fifteen and thirty minutes before Levi finally pierced the silence.

“Hey, so, look. I know it’s been a hard time back here with Dad losing his job and everything. So I just want you to know it’s ok to still have your own problems and priorities that have nothing to do with that. Just because there’s something big going on in everyone’s life doesn’t mean the small things going on in your life don’t matter.”

Reese kicked a stone a few paces down the road as he digested this, before finally returning, “I miss when we just talked about sports and whatever was on TV.”

Levi sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, bracing against a gust of wind. “You were younger then. You notice more now. You’re older and more mature and we can be more direct about things. We have to be.” Levi said this with familial drama in mind. Things like their parents’ marriage, the family’s financial situation, and the burden Reese was now facing as the oldest child in the home. He wasn’t expecting what Reese said instead.

“Ok, then, uh… Can I ask you something about sex?” Levi almost tripped over his own feet. Not because he found the topic particularly awkward, he actually had no problem talking openly about sex to a certain extent, but because in his eyes this was a little boy who plays with trains and drinks juice from a straw. Not an adolescent young man with those questions.

Levi knew from his own childhood that due to his family’s religious persuasions and the state’s lack of public education budget, Reese would almost certainly get no sex ed. So, as rapidly as his head was still spinning, he said, “Sure. Ask away.” He just hoped he wasn’t coming off as nervous as he was. The last thing he wanted was to impart his hang-ups about sex onto anyone else.

“So, you’ve had a lot of sex, right? Like, you basically know everything there is to know?” Levi was about to laugh, but he caught himself, as it hit him that Reese was serious. Levi was a junior in college who’d just lost his virginity the previous summer, to his current girlfriend. He was flattered that anyone, let alone his brother, would ever think of him as someone who “basically knows everything” about sex. It was sweet, but also a striking condemnation of how little the poor kid truly understood.

Levi knew he should correct Reese and explain that, in the grand scheme of things, he was still pretty inexperienced. But he liked the idea of being the guy who “basically knows everything there is to know,” too much to speak up. “Yep, mhmm.” Levi nodded.

“Great.” Reese exhaled a sigh of relief. “So, ok, it’s basically…” Reese fiddled with the tails of his overshirt. “Bro, there’s nothing you’re going to say that’ll shock me.” Levi reassured him, without a hint of macho posturing. After all, he was almost a decade older. “Ok, so.. Just, like, I guess…” Reese turned towards the ground as his cheeks flared red.

Levi wanted to say more, but remembered being Reese’s age with enough clarity to understand that he could say the most by staying quiet. “I guess, just… Yah, I mean, you know, based on your experiences and everything… Is the stuff on the internet, like, how similar is it to the real thing, you know?”

Levi felt a constellation of mixed emotions wash over him as he was placed in a position of authority by being tasked with answering the question while simultaneously realizing he himself was desperately wondering the same thing under six months ago. He thought Reese’s question was so innocent, but too far ahead of his time, comparatively speaking. He liked being the cool and knowledgeable older brother who had the answer to this question, but was haunted by the reality that had it come just a bit sooner, he’d have been at a complete loss.

Levi had been through enough to learn that you can’t waste life worrying about what could have happened, though, so soldiered on with trying to orient himself around the question. “It’s—It depends what you mean. Are you getting up to a lot of that stuff online Squish?” Levi asked, consciously trying to exstinguish the judgement from his tone.

When his mom and Matt had brought Reese back from the hospital, Levi hated him. He was convinced that the addition of a baby would solidify the completion of a separate family his mother was starting without him. He was just seven years old. Reese became the embodiment of all his worst fears, and for a while, he projected everything onto him. For the first few weeks, Levi wouldn’t even look at the baby. His parents even considered enrolling him in counseling, something unheard of in their slice of rural Montana.

But then baby Reese had been given a helmet to shape parts of his skull that hadn’t finished developing in the womb. Or, as it was explained to Levi, protect the baby’s head because it was “still too squishy.” Levi had only gotten closer to Reese ever since, only getting closer still, twelve years later. Who could be threatened by something that needs a foam hat to keep it’s head on straight?

The affectionate nickname, though it’s use was organic, just made the question harder for Reese to answer. “Well. Not all the time. Sometimes. Just, you know. Joel had some on his phone so then we were all looking at it and then later I decided maybe I wanted to look at some by myself and… Yah.”

Reese was a terrible liar. Besides the fact that he had all the textbooks tells, he always clasped his hands behind his back whenever he was lying. Levi didn’t want to inadvertently pressure him into talking about things he’d rather keep to himself, but they’d never made a habit of lying to each other before, and he wasn’t going to see it normalized in their dynamic now. “Hey, what you do or don’t do isn’t my business, but if we’re going to talk about it then you’ve got to be straight with me.” Levi insisted, catching his eye.

Reese unclasped his hands. A good sign. “I do watch it, ok! Don’t tell anyone.” Reese blurted out. “I don’t know it’s just, it’s fun, it’s easy, there’s so much of it.” Reese looked away again. “Don’t be mad.” Levi was completely unsure of how to handle this situation. But, at least, he knew how not to handle it. The very few conversations he had been a part of in church or school were really more lectures than conversations and all made him feel like touching himself was the worst thing he could do, second only to asking questions about it.

He didn’t want anyone else to fall prey to that train of thought if he could help it. “I’m not mad bro, it’s natural, it’s not anything you need to apologize for.” Levi said, slower their pace a few steps as Reese’s nervousness had practically pushed them to a jog. “It’s not good for you though.” Levi clarified.

As the words passed through his lips, he could see Reese retreating into himself. “I mean—not that it’s bad for you.” Levi backtracked, drawing him back in. “It’s like potato chips,” he continued.” “They’re not good for you, but they’re not bad for you either as long as you don’t eat too many.” He searched Reese’s expression for any signs of receptivity; nothing. Levi was well into ‘guessing his way through’ territory. The only they’d covered about pornography in church sex-ed besides being a sin, was that it could make you go blind.

“Potato chips have some good things in them. Potatoes are a plant that grow in the ground. There are nutrients in potatoes. We need calories to get through the day. So they’re not bad for you just on their own, but like with anything, too much is too much you know?” Levi said, running out of steam with the metaphor. “No, not at all.” Reese replied, beating himself up internally for being unable to follow along.

“So, it’s not… you know, like… legit? It’s not what it’ll really be like when it happens?” Reese asked again, using up his remain bit of courage. “That really depends Squish.” Levi replied, trying to think of a different metaphor. He decided he was far enough into the potato chips that he had to stick with it. “If you asked me whether or not salt and vinegar chips tasted like salt and vinegar, I’d probably say yah. If you asked me whether or not chicken and waffles chips taste like chicken and waffles, I’d probably say no. You know?” He said, not even sure he knew what he meant anymore.

“Lee, I think you’re reaching here.” Reese said, gently. He realized he needed to drop the metaphors. “Ok, so, without a metaphor, the answer is I can’t tell you unless I know exactly the kind you’re watching and I shouldn’t know that. That’s no one’s business but your significant other if you choose to share that stuff together.” Reese stared blankly, but intently, back at him as they walked. Levi realized he needed to offer more of an answer than “I can’t answer.”

“What I can tell you is most of it is just total, complete, utter bullshit. About as real as real as any Hollywood movie. Like in Hollywood, yes casinos exist and yes the CIA is real, but anything that happens after that’s established is probably complete fiction. In porn, yah, pizzas really can get delivered and sorority girls really do live together, but just about everything that happens after those elements are introduced probably don’t happen in real life. Even when it’s just two people at home, no crazy backstories, it’s probably still just giving you completely wrong information.” He finished, satisfied with the veracity of everything he’d come up with.

Reese looked disappointed, but not surprised. “Yah. So, you’re saying I probably just shouldn’t want it then, huh?” Levi knew what his mom would want him to say and what the pastor would want him to say. But he was primarily concerned with what his twelve-year-old self would want him to say.

“That’s not what I’m saying. The most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one you have with yourself. That extends to all areas of your life, including your sex life. So, it really is just like potato chips.” “Levi can we stop with the metaphors,” Reese begged. “Trust me on this,” Levi said, thinking he’d managed to tie it all together pretty nicely, for someone improvising from scratch.

“If you’re watching it as part of a healthy sex life that involves dating and fantasies about regular girls, it’s a good thing. Yo, between you and me, it’s maybe the single greatest creation in the history of mankind. But if watching it is taking the place of pursuing actual girls you like and developing feelings for people in your real world, then it’s taking more from you than it’s giving. Some isn’t bad for you, some is fine. Too much isn’t. Ok?” Reese nodded.

They’d been so lost in conversation they’d managed to walk the whole loop and get within an eighth of a mile of the house again. “Thanks, Levi.” Reese said, without having to search for words for the first time since the topic arose. “Anytime. Seriously, Reese. Please come to me, your real, human, brother, before your idiot friends or Google, if you have questions about this stuff. Not because I know everything about anything. I really don’t know much about this stuff. But because I know a lot about you, where you’re at, where you’re coming from. And because I won’t sell your data to Russia.” Levi winked, grinning.

As Reese charged towards the house, Levi watched him and thought, with a mix of melancholy and pride, about how quickly Reese was growing up. He wondered if that meant he was aging just as quickly? The thought spooked him, and he put it out of his mind.

Levi held the door open for Reese and as they bounded up the back steps. He found the younger boys waiting for Helen to finish cooking so she could fix them a snack, and he jumped in to help expedite things. Reese drifted upstairs to be on his own.

He would spend the rest of the break wondering how he’d ever be able to tell Levi what a great role model he was, or how much his advice helped. Meanwhile, Levi would spend the rest of the break wondering how he would ever tell Reese how much he appreciated being trusted with these sorts of questions and wondering whether or not his advice helped.

Neither would ever find the words. Neither would ever really need them. Any time Reese returned with another question, and Levi responded with another answer, they knew.

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#Blogger #Story

[chiaroscuro-life]

i don’t mind (2016)

I've only ever fallen in love twice before. The first time, I was seven years old and I can hardly say whether it was love or a selfish fantasy for my own fairytale ending, a little piece of crystal palace for myself. I watched the electrician talking to the teacher during seat work and decided I liked his blonde curls. He caught me looking at him and smiled warmly. I blushed and hid behind my crayons, smiling girlishly. He came back only two more Wednesdays after that one.

My aunt thought it was cute, but she warned me anyway. "Your uncle was my first and only love," she said. "That's all it takes. Don't waste it on vacant people."

By the second time, I was a junior in high school and fell hard. All at once, sitting by her best friend in class. “She likes you, you know,” Alexis said as I typed furiously at my Mac, blushing. I looked over at Ginny as she sat slouched in her chair, swallowed by her floral sweater. Her thin brown hands fluttered over her sketchbook like small sparrows. She smiled.

We circled around one another like floating seaweed, barely dipping beneath the surface but forever caught in the currents. I learned that I loved the way her index finger gently brushed my own and she never pulled away. Not once. I loved her crooked teeth when she smiled and called me a dork. I loved her riverbed-brown eyes, big and bulbous, speckled by the overhead lights. I loved touching her eyelids when she asked me to do her eyeliner. She breathed so close to me and leaned into my touch as I dabbed around her eyelashes. I knew she could do it herself. I loved the smell of her wild hair, warm and musky, dark brown and curly like my mother's. I liked her rough laughing. I resent not kissing her. We took pictures together on the shitty Apple Photobooth, hundreds all in a row, of the grisliest faces we could pull. In the frame of one, I caught myself looking at her. She was so fragile. I wanted to find the most beautiful vase in the world, pluck her and keep her there in the sunlight. My tiger lily girl, I thought.

And then she was gone. In a flutter of paper and charcoal dust, she vanished a hundred miles away to a college I'd never visit.

"But you're so young," my aunt chided. "What would a child know of something as complicated as love?" Had I been fifteen and angry again, I don't doubt I'd have launched into a tirade of quotes and overcomplicated rhetoric.

Today, for anyone I'd say they'd have to experience it for themselves. Love is never the same for any two people, be it a raging storm of fire and sparks, be it worshipping the ground they walk, be it barely a whisper between them. They say you never know you ever had it until your heart's been broken or stolen away to the places your lover goes. Love is the pain you feel when they're gone.

To this, I must say I disagree.

It's the summer of my senior year of high school and there I am sitting on my friend Julietta's bedroom floor, typing away languidly, missing Ginny, brooding, all hunched over the computer screen. Every age-old love song is playing all at once on repeat in my head. I'm a mess. Covered in Cheeto dust and hair sticking up on end, all dismay and misery on a borrowed laptop. Julietta had taken one look at me, grabbed my arm, and said, "You're coming over."

Now, she is dancing behind me as I write. Moving in front of her mirrors, breathing hard as her feet twist and land lightly all around her. She never reads over my shoulders, so I think I'm all right.

She stops abruptly, suddenly still. Her eyes are boring into her reflection’s, lips working furiously to a sync. She brings her hands before her face and sways in time to unheard music. I'm staring at her over the lid of her old Toshiba as she moves, lithe and articulate. She finds my gaze in the mirror and smiles.

“I hope you don't mind,” she says, twirls once, and goes back to her undulating rhythm.

I'm not struck with the golden flash of brilliance; there comes no absolute waterfall or love songs from T. S. Eliot. I'm not rapt and worshiping. Instead, as I watch her, it feels as if everything has fallen into place in just the right positions, humming and peaceful and just comfortable. I can breathe and sit back and allow myself to do nothing but watch and appreciate. For a moment, she releases the deadweight from my shoulders and I am natural. Not free, but feeling equilibrium.

Typical of me to fall for the girl next door.

We have a sort of companionable silence between us. I write and she dances, there in the open air of her bedroom. Her parents are downstairs, talking quietly amongst themselves, the grinding of a coffeemaker, gentle burbling of the television behind a closed door. There is no tension between us, because Julietta knows nothing of being inhibited; she knows no bounds. She communicates ideas between us with her body, and I know what feeling crosses her mind by the swing of her hips and the curl of her spine. She is made of movement; nothing about her is ever truly still. Sometimes I envy her. She is not particularly bombshell; pointed face and sloping nose, but her beauty is self-assured and effortless. She knows she's beautiful like this; it would be pointless to tell her. But I still want to.

In truth, she has the heart of a child. She finds delight in the rows of dolls we stroll past as we walk through Wal-Mart together. She is not afraid to wave a cheerful hello to every person walking by, and she will even break into full song in the middle of the store to prove a point, undaunted by my faithless attempts to stop her. She never cares who’s looking as long as enough people are, dumbfounded by this small burst of energy in white Converse to jar them from their commercial torpor. She looked at me and sings at the top of her lungs, high and off-key and happy.

I followed her until we were ambling among racks of glittering headpieces and girlhood trinkets. I never felt more out of place, tall and awkward and mannish, but I stood beside her as she rifled through tiaras and hair clips. The slanted mirror overhead captured my long face, tan and forlorn, until, with a flash of something white and glittering, she was laughing sweetly. She'd put a garish tiara on my head and her shoulders were shaking with mirth. I smiled and touched the bright bow directly in the middle of the piece. I decided I liked it.

She is wrapped in color. Bright ones attract her instantly. She loves neon pinks and purples and never ceases to be amazed by the number of colors that can be fit into one pair of tights. “I want these,” she declared, holding them to her heart. She smiled, and her face was so sweet and girlish that I couldn't help but smile too, and we were both suddenly giggling at one another for no apparent reason. I love her, I thought suddenly, floodgates broken and there's no holding it back. I don't tell her. I bite my tongue and let her continue wandering, innocence trailing in her footsteps. I'm afraid to say. What does a child's heart know of love? I want to keep her as she is, small and dreaming of flight and what lies beyond the blue of ozone. Her emotions show as clearly on her face as ripples over the surface of still water. Each one comes and goes like a small flock of birds on her porcelain face.

It’s a Wednesday, and we're having lunch in the open air of the mall Atrium. I'm picking at my sandwich as I listen to her chatter. I can't remember what we were talking about, something about school, I think, but she's invested her entire body into her speech. I love watching her speak. She is passionate with her words, throws her entire body into language. I love her lips. A deep, rosy blush, smooth. She's started talking about her old elementary school, about reading and teachers and preteen fears, wondering about missed opportunities. Her blue eyes are wide open and all over the place, just like her hands. I think about kissing her, just reaching across the table in that small cafe and bringing our faces close together, breathing her air, swallowing her story. But I don't. Instead I bite my lips into my mouth, hard, until one of them starts bleeding. I taste iron and cucumber left over from a bite of her sandwich.

She doesn't suspect anything, perhaps not even the smallest inkling. But still, as I sit here writing, I wonder if she's ever thought about kissing me too.

“I'm going to put on some music,” she says. “I hope you don't mind.”

Her cherry blossom perfume rises in an unseen haze around us. “I don't mind.”

Her sister is sitting against the opposite wall of her room, staring intently at the way Julietta brushes her hand across my shoulder blades, small, guiltless. I know she knows. She told me once, “You should tell her. I know you dream about her all the time,” and a small part of me clings on to the hope, as if she was my personal oracle.

Julietta is dancing again. She's replaced her top with a loose-fitting shirt with KEEP CALM and DANCE ON embroidered in rose across the back. She sings along to Metallica, loud, off-key, but heartfelt. She never apologizes for her little quirks. I love her for that. She's everything that I am not; she provides me the counterbalance that I can fall back upon and never worry about breaking. She is resilient, she is strong, she is an enigma.

I don't mind. I don't mind. I don't mind.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for july 24 of 2021 with Proverbs 24 and Psalm 24, accompanied by Psalm 35 for the 35th day of Summer and Psalm 55 for day 205 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 24]

[Wisdom’s Warning]

Don’t envy the wealth of the wicked or crave their company.

For they’re obsessed with causing trouble

and their conversations are corrupt.

Wise people are builders—

they build families, businesses, communities.

And through intelligence and insight

their enterprises are established and endure.

Because of their skilled leadership,

the hearts of people are filled with the treasures of wisdom

and the pleasures of spiritual wealth.

Wisdom can make anyone into a mighty warrior,

and revelation-knowledge increases strength.

Wise strategy is necessary to wage war,

and with many astute advisers

you’ll see the path to victory more clearly.

Wisdom is a treasure too lofty for a quarreling fool—

he’ll have nothing to say when leaders gather together.

There is one who makes plans to do evil—

Master Schemer is his name.

If you plan to do evil, it’s as wrong as doing it.

And everyone detests a troublemaker.

If you faint when under pressure,

you have need of courage.

Go and rescue the perishing! Be their savior!

Why would you stand back and watch them stagger to their death?

And why would you say, “But it’s none of my business”?

The one who knows you completely and judges your every motive

is also the keeper of souls—and not just yours!

He sees through your excuses and holds you responsible

for failing to help those whose lives are threatened.

Revelation-knowledge is a delicacy,

sweet like flowing honey that melts in your mouth.

Eat as much of it as you can, my friend!

For then you will perceive what is true wisdom,

your future will be bright,

and this hope living within you will never disappoint you.

Listen up, you wicked, irreverent ones—

don’t harass the lovers of God

and don’t invade their resting place.

For the lovers of God may suffer adversity

and stumble seven times,

but they will continue to rise over and over again.

But the unrighteous are brought down by just one calamity

and will never be able to rise again.

Never gloat when your enemy meets disaster,

and don’t be quick to rejoice if he falls.

For the Lord, who sees your heart,

will be displeased with you and will pity your foe.

Don’t be angrily offended over evildoers or be agitated by them.

For the wicked have no life and no future—

their light of life will die out.

My child, stand in awe of Yahweh!

Give counsel to others,

but don’t mingle with those who are rebellious.

For sudden destruction will fall upon them

and their lives will be ruined in a moment.

And who knows what retribution they will face!

[Revelation from the Wise]

Those enlightened with wisdom have spoken these proverbs:

Judgment must be impartial,

for it is always wrong to be swayed by a person’s status.

If you say to the guilty, “You are innocent,”

the nation will curse you and the people will revile you.

But when you convict the guilty,

the people will thank you and reward you with favor.

Speaking honestly is a sign of true friendship.

Go ahead, build your career and give yourself to your work.

But if you put me first, you’ll see your family built up!

Why would you be a false accuser and slander with your words?

Don’t ever spitefully say, “I’ll get even with him!

I’ll do to him what he did to me!”

One day I passed by the field of a lazy man,

and I noticed the vineyards of a slacker.

I observed nothing but thorns, weeds, and broken-down walls.

So I considered their lack of wisdom,

and I pondered the lessons I could learn from this:

Professional work habits prevent poverty from becoming

your permanent business partner. And:

If you put off until tomorrow the work you could do today,

tomorrow never seems to come.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 24 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 24]

A song of David.

The earth and all that’s upon it belong to the Eternal.

The world is His, with every living creature on it.

With seas as foundations and rivers as boundaries,

He shaped the continents, fashioned the earth.

Who can possibly ascend the mountain of the Eternal?

Who can stand before Him in sacred spaces?

Only those whose hands have been washed and hearts made pure,

men and women who are not given to lies or deception.

The Eternal will stand close to them with blessing and mercy at hand,

and the God who redeems will right what has been wrong.

These are the people who chase after Him;

[like Jacob, they look for the face of God].

[pause]

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal who is powerful

and mightily equipped for battle.

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal, Commander of heaven’s army,

He is the glorious King.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 24 (The Voice)

[Psalm 35]

A song of David.

Make a case against those who struggle with me, Eternal One.

Battle against those who battle against me.

Be my shield and protection;

stand with me and rescue me!

Draw the spear and javelin

to meet my pursuers.

Reassure my soul and say,

“I will deliver you.”

Shame and dishonor those ruthless enemies

who wish to end my life.

Turn back those who conspire against me,

defeated and humiliated!

Let them be separated from the righteous as chaff is separated from the grain,

blown by the wind,

driven far, far away by the Eternal’s messenger.

Make their way unsure and dangerously dark,

a gauntlet of gloom

chased through the darkness by the Eternal’s messenger.

For no reason at all, they set a trap for me—a net, a snare—

then, without cause, they disguised a pit to capture my soul—another cowardly snare.

May they be surprised by their own destruction.

May they become tangled in their own net

and fall into the pit which they, themselves, dug.

When that day comes, my soul will celebrate the Eternal

and be glad in His salvation.

Every fiber of my being will shout,

“Eternal One, there is none like You!

You save the poor

from those who try to overpower them

and rescue the weak and the needy from those who steal from them.”

False witnesses step forward;

they ask me strange questions for which I have no answers.

When I do good to them, they do evil to me,

bringing misery to my soul.

When they were sick,

I mourned for them and wore sackcloth;

I chose to humble myself by fasting.

But my prayers came back unanswered.

So I mourned more deeply as if I grieved for my brother or friend;

I went around bowed down by sorrow, dressed in black,

as if I were weeping for my mother.

But when I stumbled, they gathered together

and celebrated my fall with joy;

People attacked me when I wasn’t expecting it;

they slandered me with no end.

Like godless mockers at a festival,

their words tore at me.

Lord, how long will You do nothing but watch?

Save me from their evil assaults, plots, and plunder;

rescue my life from these hungry beasts, these ruthless lions!

Then I will praise You and thank You at the great gathering,

in the company of the entire congregation.

Do not allow my enemies to boast at my expense,

for they despise me without any cause—

yet they wink at me—malicious, taunting winks.

Their words have no ring of peace.

They plan evil rumors and incriminations

against those who live peacefully in the land.

They speak lying accusations against me;

they say, “Aha! Aha! We know what you’ve been up to.

We’ve seen it with our own eyes!”

You have seen what’s happening, Eternal One; don’t remain silent!

Lord, do not stay far away from me!

Wake up; come to my defense!

Fight for me, my Lord and my God!

Pass Your judgment, Eternal One, my True God;

do it by the standards of Your righteousness.

Do not allow my enemies to boast over me.

Do not allow them to gloat over me,

“Aha, we have won! We got what we wanted!”

Do not allow them to brag,

“We chewed him up and spit him out.”

Shame and confuse those who celebrate my suffering;

may those who exalt themselves above me be covered with shame—

wrapped in a cloak of dishonor!

As for those who desire my vindication,

may they be joyful and glad.

May they forever say,

“The Eternal is indeed great!

He takes pleasure when good things happen to His servant!”

That’s why I will speak of Your righteousness

and sing praises to You all day long.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 35 (The Voice)