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purpleyoonn · 2 years ago

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Dance of Time 1

D A N C E O F T I M E

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Ongoing (random updates)

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff, poly au, vampire au,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Chapter Warnings: stalking, small town legends, death, violence, mentions of stabbing and blood, slight yandere behavior,

Masterlist // Chapter 2

Taglist: @psychosupernatural @carolinexkpop @strxwbloody @strawberry-moonpies @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou @anaspectoflife @btsw1fe @yoongisgirl69 @toughbook @yoongibabs

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Insanity

Albert Einstein once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Following the same routine and believing things would change, would move how you wanted them to.

Through studying history, you found this phenomenon to be accurate. So many events in history could have been prevented if they only looked back and did something different. Followed a different course. Chose a different path.

You were reminded of this every day, as you stared at your research, wondering why nothing was changing in your life. You were coming up on 27, the past six years of your life spent doing research and visiting historical sites. You were a historian, your passion for learning turned into a love for digging deeper into different events.

Your last project saw you crawling through underground tunnels in Edinburgh, writing about the day to day lives of the people living there when they were built. Your specialty, however, was the small-town ghost stories that seemed legend. You loved trying to find facts over rumors with regards to each town’s Boo Radley. And now, it seemed like it was time to discover the truth about your very own Boo Radley.

You had been missing home lately, and had been planning a visit to the small town you had grown up in. You left as soon as you graduated high school, wanting to get away from the people who had made your life mundane, all whilst making something of your life. You had decided, during your trip home, that you would do a story on the Weeping Manor, the large home that stood on the outskirts of your hometown.

It was, according to the older generation, originally a boarding house for miners that would travel to the area. Sometimes railroad workers would stay there, but it was mostly people looking to get rich quick on the gold nuggets found within the area.

Everyone had grown up with the stories, how the original owners had come home to find their lover dead at the bottom of the grand staircase, or how they killed her themselves when she could not choose between them. Your personal favorite, the one your grandmother told you, was that they were demons who had thrown their life away to be with their love, and how the angels had killed her in retaliation.

As a child, your romantic heart had loved the story of forbidden lovers and had requested the tale every night you stayed with your grandmother. She would always smile at you, a twinkle to her eye as she spoke. She would speak with such conviction that you never would have realized the story wasn’t true if you didn’t share tales with the other kids at school.

“All stories hold truth, it’s all about whether you are brave enough to find it or not.” Those were the words she always told you when you confronted her about her “lies”. They are also the words you live by, constantly searching for the truth in every story you hear.

You were currently on a plane home to Sacramento, the nearest airport to your hometown at least two hours north of the bustling state capitol. You were lucky enough to get the window seat, and no one else in your aisle. The empty wine glass sat on the table in front of you, your notebook in hand as you tried to write out everything you knew or could remember about the Weeping Manor. You also tried to plan what your next steps would be.

Primary sources would be on the list first, hoping your town’s library still held any firsthand accounts of when it was a boarding house. Then, you would need to find the current owners of the manor and hope they would allow you to tour the building or see any of their handed down documents that might not be already within the library’s records.

It was a long process to endure, but you loved it. You loved doing research and digging into records. It was like having history underneath your own fingertips. It was an honor for you.

“Miss, can I get you another glass?” You were startled out of your thoughts, turning to the curious stewardess as she glanced at your open notebook.

“Oh uh, no thank you.” You smiled politely, not liking when anyone tried to glance over your shoulder. You closed your notebook before she could question anymore and watched as she nodded and continued down the aisle.

You had about three hours left of your flight, and knew your uncle was probably already at the airport waiting for you. Your uncle was the only family left in the state, everyone moving on and away from the small mountain town.

“Better opportunities” they claimed, as if they never wanted to leave in the first place.

It’s not like you were any different though, but you appreciated your uncle and how he stayed to take care of your grandmother. You helped out whenever you could, sending money for food or heat, or even helping to buy your uncle a new car to better help your grandma get around in.

You uncle was a stout man in his late forties, your dad’s younger brother who loved to joke around and helped you play pranks on your family when you were younger. He was known as the ‘fun uncle’ and raised his two children the same. You loved when you got to spend time with them, but now, your cousins had their own families and lived in separate states. Your uncle visits them twice a year, spending a couple weeks with each child when he can.

He was the man you wish your father could have become, had he not passed when you were a baby. You grew up with your single mother, doing her damned best to take care of and raise you. She worked multiple jobs for as long as you could remember, and always did her best to attend every single one of your school’s award ceremonies.

Exhaustion

That was what the doctor ultimately decided for her cause of death. You had tried to wake her up, thankful she had finally gotten some rest; she wouldn’t wake up.

It took a long time for you to even think about your mom after she passed, instead pushing yourself into your work to make sure your family would be taken care of and would never have to worry about working again. Even now, your family tried to get you to rest, to take a vacation of sorts, but you just couldn’t.

Your aunts and cousins always asked when you would be having your own children, when they would meet your significant other. You just laughed, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Your grandmother would always just tell you that your fate was written in the stars, mimicking something your mother told you.

You just never realized the old bat knew the truth. That she knew more than she was letting on.

-*-*-

“Get your ass over here and give me a damn hug!” You didn’t hold back a grin as you watched your frail grandma run down her front steps and practically jump into your arms, ignoring her own words.

You squeezed her as tight as you could without hurting her, pouring all your love for her into the small show of affection. She squeezed you back twice as hard, her hands rubbing up and down your back as she got on her tip toes and kissed you on the cheek. You could feel a slap to your back before she pulled away, a grin on her lips.

“You are getting too old. You need to give me some grandbabies.” She offhandedly states, not waiting for a reply as she walks slowly back into the house. You stare at her wide eyed, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

You and your uncle look at each other, a laugh bubbling from your throat as he rolls his eyes and mocks her. “I saw that, William!” Her yell sounds from the kitchen, shocking you both and making you move as quickly as you can to grab your bags and go into the house.

You make your way to the room you grew up in, the walls a light shade of purple with the same fairy lights your mother said would make the monsters stay away hung from the bed frame. She gave you those after your father passed away, claiming they would keep you safe.

“I told you that old bat didn’t change anything.” You uncle’s voice came from behind you, moving around you to put your suitcase on the bed for you to deal with later.

“You were always her favorite. The second I moved out she turned my room into a library.” He scoffed, a hidden laugh under his breath. “When your aunt moved out, she threw a party.” That had you laughing, imagining the look on your aunt’s face as she left.

“Yeah, well aunty Laura was always the one that everyone claimed would send grandma into an early grave.” Your aunt Laura was the baby and was about 7 years younger than your uncles, and about twice as rebellious. She now lives in LA and has her own record label, according to your cousin.

“That’s for sure…” He paused, looking around the room until he landed on the stuffed animals in the center of your pillows. “She’s worried about you, you know. She keeps talking about something coming, that you need to be told.” You narrow your eyebrows at his words, wondering what the heck your grandma was so worried about.

“The doctors say she is in the beginning stages of dementia, but she swears up and down she is as sane as God. Don’t know how that is supposed to calm me down.” Your uncle rolls his eyes again, before making a swirling motion above his head, causing a large grin to grow on your lips.

“Anyways, I’ll let you get settled. Mama’s in there cooking up some deer meat Peter brought over.” You nodded, your uncle not wasting another second before leaving your room, closing the door behind him.

You turn back around, not wasting a second before sitting on the middle of your bed and pulling your laptop out of your carry on. Now that you were home, you could start writing your research notes. You grabbed your small, leather notebook out of your bag as well, pulling out your to do list as well as the list of things you remember or already know about the manor.

You had two pages already filled out, mainly just what legends you remember along with facts about the manor, like the address and any known affiliates associated with the upkeep of the “historical landmark”. The first name that popped up was a Jim Kelly, the assistant to the owner of the property, who is the main person everyone goes through with regards to the manor.

According to the emails you’ve been sending back and forth, the building and surrounding property is owned by the Kim family and has been under their possession since it was built. It is inherited by the first-born son in each generation, and his current employer is the most recent owner.

You had been trying for a week now to make an appointment to talk to Mr. Kim, but he seems to be almost unreachable to the public. He handles all business through Mr. Kelly, giving the man almost full control of the property.

Scratching that off your list for now, you decide you are going to go to the library first thing in the morning, see what information or records you could find there. Who knows, maybe Mrs. Shay is still the librarian and will let you into the back room where the closed off records are located.

You sit on your bed thinking and planning until your grandma comes knocking on your door, claiming she’ll have your behind if you don’t come and eat dinner right now. Which leads you to where you are now, sitting across from your grandma as you ask her about the legends again.

“Why do you want to hear that story again? You haven’t wanted to hear it in years.” She had her eyes narrowed, your lips turned down as she watches your face, looking for any tell you could give.

“Please grandma. I—” You close your eyes as you are interrupted, your grandmother apparently not done with her scolding.

“Don’t give me that. You haven’t been having any dreams, have you? Don’t you lie to me Y/n.” Your brows knitted in confusion, wondering what she meant by having dreams.

Your grandma froze, your uncle bringing his head to rest in the palms of his hands, a small groan leaving his lips. A slap from your grandma has him straightening, moving to grab your plates and bring them into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember much about that house. Just that it still exists and that the building is getting slowly renovated.” With that, you watch your grandma stalk back to her room down the hallway, slamming her door as she closes it.

“Did I ask something wrong?” You ask yourself, not knowing what made your grandma so upset that she walked away and slammed her door. She’s never done that, not even when your aunt Laura lived at home. Moving to get up, you are stopped by a hand on your shoulder, your uncle looking at you with a glint of worry and…something else in his eye.

“Sit.” You nod, sitting back down as he moves to sit in the seat your grandma was previously occupying.

“Listen, I don’t know what is truth and what is fiction.” Your uncle started, looking even more worn down than when his youngest moved out of the home.

“Stories about Weepin’ have been goin’ around longer than even mama’s been around. The most common legend is the one mama’ told us and you guys when we were all younger.” You nod, remembering the time you and your cousins all sat around grandma as she sat in her chair and captured our attention with the stories.

“Apparently, seven men moved down here during the miner movement, and fell in love with one of the town’s few single women. A nurse who worked in the tents helping injuries that came from the mines. It was love at first sight, some even called them soulmates. However, not everyone minded. A lot of the men were jealous and the few other women were envious of her for nabbing the seven men.” You don’t remember this from grandma’s story and wonder where he heard this part.

“A couple months into the relationship, the men struck gold, literally, even helping to build most of the older buildings in town. They built Weepin’ Manor with her in mind, tons of rooms and even a library. During this time, unfortunately, a lot of bodies were turning up, some saying drained of blood, others saying their bodies were torn apart. No one really knows. But the blame was put on the seven men.”

“People claimed they were working with the devil, Demons come to take advantage of the sin of gold. Tales of screams heard from inside the manor. Well, one day, someone claimed they saw one of the men feeding from a traveler in the woods behind the mine’s entrance. The town grew outraged,” Your eyes were wide as you listened to the story your uncle was telling. He seemed serious as he spoke, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

“When the men left town for the day, some of the townsmen stormed the manor, not thinking they would have left their woman behind. When they returned, she was found dead, her throat slit and her stomach stabbed through into the mattress. The found her with the knife still lodged in her abdomen.” You moved your hand to cover your mouth in shock, hearing this version for the first time. You couldn’t believe the whole town would turn against this family like that. That they could kill one of their own so violently just for being there.

It made you unbelievably angry.

“The seven men were so distraught, they are said to have burnt the entire town to the ground, the only buildings left somewhat unscathed were the library and the old apothecary, buildings which their lover helped build. After the town was burnt, the men are said to have killed themselves, unable to take the grief of their loss.” You take notes in your mind, trying everything you could to remember the entirety of the story, swearing to yourself you would write it down as soon as you got to your notebook.

“It was dubbed Weepin’ manor by the locals around 1880, some…. Forty years after the town was rebuilt. Folks said they heard people crying in there, even claimed they saw the spirits of the men. But nothing was ever proven.” Your uncle stopped, looking at you with something you didn’t recognize… guilt maybe? It was completely unlike him, so out of character you were becoming increasingly worried.

Before you could ask if he was alright, your uncle was shooting up and out of his seat, exclaiming that he was beat and he was going to bed. He came over and kissed your forehead, before walking down the same hallway your grandmother’s room is on.

Your head was hurting, everything happening so quickly you were now in the dining room alone, stuck with your thoughts. You had never heard that version of the legends before, and with the way your uncle was talking, it seemed as if he knew the truth. Like he actually believed in what he was telling you.

Getting up from your seat, you slowly made your way to your room, despite the urgency you felt, and opened your notebook again to write down everything your uncle told you. It took you over an hour, making sure you wrote down every single detail, no matter how important it seemed. It took over 12 pages in your notebook, and a couple things underlined to look for in the records tomorrow.

You spent the entire night going over the story, trying to pick out anything that seemed off, or didn’t match the research you had already done prior to coming home. Something about the story was pulling at your insides, like it wasn’t the entire story. You could feel your heart clawing at your chest, the pain making you pause in your thoughts.

It was like something was stabbing you, the pain making its way into your back and having you bite your tongue to prevent crying out and possibly waking your family.

You were frantic in trying to close the curtains, praying to the gods that they would leave your family alone. You had done everything you could, helped so many of your neighbors. You tried to move forward to the staircase, but the corner of the door caught the bottom of your dress, making you pause to remove the cloth.

“Come now, Ellie. You will be safe if you come with us.” You heard the mayor, Michael, say through the front door. Your movements became even more frantic, choosing to rip the cloth instead of trying to fight the door.

You raced up the steps and into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind you right as you heard the front door being broken down. Yelling tore through the bottom floor, glasses being smashed, a particular vase you loved, as it was a gift from…being thrown to the ground, causing a sob to leave your lips.

“Ellie darling. They can’t mind control you any longer.” The footsteps moved up the stairs as you hid under the bed, hand over your mouth to she couldn’t hear you cry. A whimper tore through your lips as the door was thrown open, a laugh sounding throughout the room.

The pain in your chest was gone, your heart beating fast as you tried to breathe through the onslaught of tears. You were overcome with emotions: fear, pain, agony, and love. Like they were your own emotions, but you had no reason to feel this way. The… vision you had was just that, a vision. You were probably so sleep deprived that you had a hallucination of some sort.

The only thing that was weird was that it was like you were there, experiencing everything as if it was going on now. You could still hear the echoes of the things smashing from below you. Could hear the laughter of that man in your ears as the fear filled your lungs. Ellie. You wonder if it was short for something, maybe Elizabeth?

Another note made in your notebook, writing down the description of your hallucination. Another 5 pages written down. You felt that your hallucination was somehow connected to the manor, even if it didn’t make any sense.

Deciding it was a good time to sleep, you put your notebook down. You didn’t want another lifelike hallucination, and if sleeping kept them away, you would sleep. You took your suitcase and bag off your bed, placing them at the edge, and climbed under your covers, before turning your bedside lamp off and trying to sleep.

-*-*-

“She’s finally back.” The man spoke, his body stood in the trees behind the small house. His view was of your sleeping body, rested against your pillows and the stuffed animal he sent your mother when you were little.

A smile was rested on his lips as he watched you sleep; his protective instincts finally being soothed after having you in his sights after so long.

“I was surprised when Jimmy told us she had messaged him, asking about the manor. I wonder if the dreams have started back up again?” The first man turned his head, smirking at the younger who approached from behind, intertwining their hands together.

“They don’t seem to be dreams this time around. She thinks she is hallucinating.” A click to his tongue sounds out as you shift in your sleep, clutching at the teddy bear making his undead heart warm.

“Joon says he is going to have Jimmy email her tomorrow about a meeting. He doesn’t want to waste any time in having her again. That old bat already kept her from us once, he doesn’t want it to happen again.” The older man quirks his head, listening to the bitter tone his younger mate held. The contempt for the old women palpable as he looks at his mate.

“We won’t have to worry about her, or him this time. They know what will happen if she is kept from us again.” Both men’s eyes flash red, their reflection against your window showing the veins creeping up their eyes at the remembrance of you leaving town the first time.

“She won’t be able to hide from us again.” Turning around and back into the tree line, the younger steals once last glance at your sleeping form before letting himself be dragged into the trees, food being the only thing on his mind once again as he let the feeling of the hunt take over once more.

Next Chapter

#bts #bts au #bts vampire #bts vampire au #bts slight yandere #historian mc #reincarnated mc #bts reincarnation #bts historical au #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly!#bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #vampiretan sonyeondan #dance of time #purpleyoonn

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sehtoast · 1 year ago

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Envy (AU Homelander Meets Depowered Homelander x OC)

18+ | 3.9k. Kidnapping, stalking, domestic fluff, two Homelanders, depowered Homelander, Homelander on Homelander violence, smut if you squint, Benlander | Fic Directory

“I will look for you in every lifetime and love you there.” In another universe, he has everything he could ever want. Yet, there is always something missing. Something he's always wanted.

Inspired by this. Special thank you to @reactornumber04 for pitching it as a Benlander idea, and to whoever is behind that darling anon for sending @blindmagdalena such an awesome concept <3

The world is his throne.

An amalgamation of blood and ash, built atop a mountain of bones of the unworthy.

He is more than a king. He is a god.

He is god.

So why does he feel so goddamn alone?

Why do the hundreds who throw themselves at his feet, begging him to use them to his heart’s content, do nothing to alleviate his pain? Shouldn’t the void be filled?

Shouldn’t the ache have subsided long ago?

He basks in their love, but it isn’t the love he needs. In fact, it only makes him ache more. It reminds him how empty he really is. Reminds him of what he’ll never truly have. Reminds him of each time it ever slipped through his fingers.

He lingers above the clouds to hide his tears. Lets the sun’s warmth wash over him, eyes shut as he lets go. His mind wanders beyond the bounds of his norm. Somehow there is tranquility here despite what goes on below. Despite all that he’s done.

He could get lost up here. Forget everything and everyone and just…

Be.

He lets himself fall.

Further and further…

He feels strange, but he lets it pass.

Further…

The sounds of the world warp, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Further…

When he opens his eyes in preparation to halt himself, he’s… somewhere else. The air doesn’t stink of decay. The skyline of the city is intact. The occasional body floating down the Hudson isn’t there. Vought Tower peeks proudly through the jungle of skyscrapers, and he’s disoriented.

His head pounds as he takes in the sounds. The honking of horns, the hum of machinery and the roar of the subway. All the things he’d done away with in his world flood back into his senses. When the overstimulation fades enough to focus, he finds himself drawn in another direction entirely. It’s as if something calls out for him and only him. It grasps him with an overpowering familiarity around his body and pulls.

He doesn’t even notice the mix of confusion and elation in the faces below.

Homelander floats leisurely, letting the feeling guide him until he’s on the roof of a little home in Queens. The last specks of gold cast from the setting sun graces him as he peers inside. He scans the boxes in the attic first. Each one seems to hold nothing of importance. Old clothes, worthless keepsakes, photo albums, and then…

One catches his eye. Inside rests… his suit?

Homelander blinks in confusion. He’s certainly never gifted one, so how..?

Unless it was a copy, in which case it would be a very good knockoff.

He shakes his head and continues observing, peering through to the next floor. The scent of citrus touches his nose as he scans over the bathroom. Clean and well kept, aside from the chaos of products on the sink countertop. Water droplets coat the inside of the shower.

He moves onto a spare room. Its only purpose seems to be serving as a staging ground for tech work and a few hobbies.

The sight in the next room makes him stop breathing.

There, on the bed, lies a man reading a book. One hand adjusts his glasses. A mop of unruly brown hair rests on his arm, and he can hear the soft snores. Normally, he wouldn’t give a single fuck about something so mundane if not for the fact the man in that bed looked exactly fucking like him.

Some things were different. The knockoff’s hair was fully brown, and certainly wasn’t being kept after the same way his own was. His eyes were an identical blue, but why were they so… soft? Scruff covered his jaw and neck, and there was a tiny, pink scar at his cheekbone, but it was undeniable that this man looked exactly fucking like him, even with other subtle differences.

Homelander watches with wide, focused eyes. Stares at this alternate version of himself in disbelief and fascination.

“Mm,” he hears the other person mumble. “Time is it?”

"It’s uh…” his alternate self speaks. Homelander’s lips part. “About eight.”

They have the same voice.

He looks through the layers of blankets and clothing to check the man’s left hip. He’s stunned at the sight of a birthmark identical to his own.

It’s unmistakable.

The too-real suit. The resemblance. The mark…

That’s him.

But why the fuck is he…

Homelander watches that mop of brown hair finally lift to reveal a young man with the most striking brown eyes he’s ever seen. Something in his gut drops when he sees how the boy looks at this strange version of himself. There’s such warmth, such gentleness in his eyes. He finds that ache renewing in his chest when the pair kiss.

Homelander has had many people try to give him such a look, but their anatomy always betrayed them. Their cortisone was too high, or they would reek of fear. Their hearts would race and their brains would stink of deception.

But not this one…

Whoever this was, he looked at this version of himself with an affection that rang true through his entire body. Heart beat just right, not a waft of fear. Even his other self was reciprocating genuinely.

What the hell is this?

He watches the younger man grumble something about ‘it being time,’ and attempt to roll out of bed before he’s snagged by the arm.

“Absolutely not,” chides his other self. “You’ve been running around since before the sun came up. An hour is not enough sleep.”

“But I gotta–”

“Benjamin.”

So that was his name.

“Two hours,” the boy says before shooting a web and yanking a red, white, and blue suit off the corner of the floor. Interesting power… “I’ll bring home dinner?”

“We already ate.”

“Oh,” Ben chuckles. “Right...”

Homelander watches him take the suit from Benjamin’s hands and toss it to the end of the bed.

“C’mere,” he lifts his arm, offering himself as a pillow. The boy returned to his embrace eagerly. “You gotta make time for yourself, babe. Sleepyheads don’t make for good heroes.”

Homelander spent days watching the pair. He found a way into the attic and lingered there when he wasn’t following the bug around the city. He decided that the web-head was insufferable. Noble to a fault, altruistic, kind, and painfully lenient on even the worst of the criminals he apprehended. Worse than that, he was the leader of The Seven. The completely reformed Seven, at that.

And the way he treated him– or, well, his other self…

He wanted him.

He wanted what they had. Every fucking minute of seeing them together, seeing their love, was a torture in and of itself.

This is what he needs.

Watching them make their stupid little grocery trip before cooking their stupid little dinner. Seeing himself cut and saute vegetables, actively assisting in the process…

Guess this version of himself was only good for domestic work, given he was without his powers.

This, above all else, disgusted him. Benjamin deserves a partner who can keep up with him, if not exceed his limitations. He deserves someone who can make things fun. Throw him around a little, fly him above the clouds and take him anywhere. But, instead, the bug settled on sticking around with this useless excuse of a man.

Why?

Why does he smile at him? Dance with him in the kitchen to no sounds beside the sizzles from the stove? Why does he let this pathetic nobody dip him back and kiss him?

How is it that he’s not faking a single ounce of pleasure when this human ruts into him?

”J-Johnny!”

The sound sends a jolt straight to his cock every time, and he touches himself as he watches, despite his ire.

Why does Benjamin look up at that disgusting, scar covered, sweaty fool and proclaim his love? Kiss his forehead and tell him that finishing early didn’t disappoint him? What makes it so fun to share a bubble bath with him and scoop suds atop his head?

And why the fuck does his alternate self love it so goddamn much?

Homelander, for as much as it confused him, wanted so badly for all of this to be his. They could be happy together, too, right? All he would have to do is dispose of this lesser man, and he could swoop in and show Benjamin just how perfect their lives could be.

By the third week, he snaps.

He nabs his sniveling, weak self out of the kitchen with ease. His mirror image was too stunned at the sight of him to even speak.

“What’s wrong, ‘Johnny?’” He snarls as they whip through the air. “Forget how to fly?”

He drops him a few times for good measure, really solidifying the fear that he’s at the mercy of, well… himself.

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to kill the loser. Homelander tells himself it’s for insurance in case Ben catches on, but even he knows that’s not quite true. He monologues endlessly about how interesting this world is. Tells the tale of how he brought his Earth to its knees in under three days’ time, slaughtering world leaders and eviscerating military ordinance left and right. He and his loyal fans– followers, now, took care of the unworthy. By bathing in blood, he cast a new light across the whole world. It was meant to be paradise, except for that one tiny little detail.

That thing he was missing.

“So, I’ll be borrowing your little bug boy.” He explains with a grin, staring down at his tied up self. “Sure you won’t mind, right? You gotta know this isn’t the life he deserves.”

He can see that jab hit home. Sees his body shake with anger and fear, hears the chain and shackle keeping him in place rattle just the tiniest bit.

“What kinda fuckin’ pussy do you gotta be to lose your powers, anyway? You were bigger than god himself and you just, what? Pissed it all away?”

His other self clenches his eyes shut and bites down on the gag.

“Ah, well…” Homelander grins, quirking his brow. “Hey, whaddaya think’s for dinner tonight, anyway? I bet I can get him to make steak… And, heh, when we finish up, I could probably show him an even bigger piece of meat. If you know what I’m sayin’,”

He leaves after a few more taunts, eagerly barreling back to that quaint little home before Benjamin can return. His suit gets stashed under the bed, and on goes some of his other self’s clothing. He hates to admit that they’re comfortable.

The only thing preventing him from looking totally the part was his hair, but that is quickly explained by a trip to a stylist once Ben arrives home. Finally saying he wants to take care of himself properly. Look nice and handsome again.

He greets the bug with a kiss that no amount of restraint can disguise as anything but starved.

“Woah, there, tiger.” Ben giggles, thumbing at his right cheekbone. Homelander spots a flicker of curiosity. “What’s got into you?”

“Same thing that wants to get into you,” he remarks with a smirk. Ben’s laughter is warmth in his very soul, even if the bug told him he’d rather wait till later in the night.

He could do that.

He could wait.

He bullshits his way perfectly through their banter. After so long observing, he knows just how to play the part. Expert actor that he is, he even makes sure to nibble on his lower lip just like his alternate self does when he’s thinking to himself.

It’s perfect.

The way they curl up on the couch together, the way Benjamin runs a hand through his hair. He can tell the bug doesn’t suspect a thing. Heart beat is in check, adrenaline isn’t spiked, and there’s not a lick of fear emanating from that cute little body of his. He’s in heaven.

That void in his chest feels full, and he has the last piece of the puzzle.

Everything’s perfect… until Ben tries to leave.

“I gotta go out tonight, pumpkin.” The web-head explains. He’s already dressed in that silly spandex suit of his. “Personal responsibility aside, it is part of my contract to keep Vought off your ass, y’know.”

He rolls his eyes, and grabs Ben’s arm.

“I said, no!”

It all went so smoothly until this. Why did he have to ruin everything? Why couldn’t he just fucking stay here?

Homelander grips Ben’s arm, and he sees the moment when the illusion fades.

Too hard.

Too strong for a human.

Ben looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes.

Homelander stays completely still, hoping that not reacting at all will dispel the realization and everything could go back to normal. He should force him to sit the fuck down and snuggle. Have him run those fingers through his hair some more, spread his legs later and be the perfect partner Homelander knows he can be.

But it’s too late.

Those hands land on either side of his upper arms and he’s being walked to sit on the bed. Benjamin takes a seat beside him and takes him by the hand.

“Man, I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t totally crazy, but…” The bug strokes the back of his hand as he speaks. “How did you get here?”

His eyes flicker red for a moment, ready to blow clean through his head and end his failure before it can get even worse. But, it is precisely this action which earns him a soft smile and a kiss to his knuckles. The crimson heat withers away almost instantly.

“M’not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Ben tells him. Admittedly, he caught on to the difference fairly fast. His sixth sense, combined with the fact Homelander was missing the scar on his cheek were the dead giveaways. Benjamin had to keep himself in check until he was absolutely sure, and, even then, he had to wait for the right moment to slip out and search for John. “I just have questions, y’know?”

Some way, somehow, those gentle eyes pulled every word from him with ease. Even as he tells his tale of conquest, he finds more understanding than horror looking back at him. Seemingly against his will, he devolves into a tirade about how fucking alone he really is. How miserable and sad his life is, despite having everything.

“But then I saw you two, and I…”

Benjamin nods, chin resting atop Homelander’s head. His heart hurts for him, despite the disgust at his deeds. He wonders if this would’ve been Johnny’s fate had things not gone the way they did. If, perhaps, he never did join The Seven. If his love never lost his powers. The immaturity and fury in this man rages hotter than it ever did in Johnny– even back when he was still Homelander.

He lets this one weep. Encourages it, even. Shushes him and weathers the ache of his impossibly strong grip. He wonders if Homelander has ever been allowed to let go. If anyone's ever held him together. Ever wanted to.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved…” Homelander sniffles.

By the time he settles down, Benjamin has missed his window to go out on his patrol. He hums while Homelander catches his breath. One hand strokes up and down his back while the other thumbs at his cheek.

“You’ll find your way, pumpkin.” Ben tells him. “Life makes us wait, and it especially makes us work. Johnny and I took a lot of both, especially work, but it turned out in the end.”

Homelander scowls, but no burning fury rises to his tongue.

“Even though I’m pretty sure our worlds are super different, I think you’ll find your person.”

It’s the kindest rejection he’s ever faced in his entire life. They sat there for a time, allowing a sense of calm to return. He could’ve almost forgotten everything that happened.

“Hate to break the moment, but uhm… I do kinda need my husband back, y’know?”

Homelander scoffs, but stands regardless. He pulls his suit out from under the bed and begins undressing. To his surprise, Ben helps him zip back into it and figure out the cape clasps.

As they flew to the dock warehouse, Ben giggled about the nostalgia of flying.

It was cute.

The mess they’d found his other half in was, however, quite the opposite. Heaving breaths and sputtered cries shook him, and his vitals indicated a full blown panic attack. It’s laughable. He’d only been there for a few hours, what–

“Oh, baby…” Ben coos, kneeling beside him to untie the gag and release his wrists from their binds. “Shh… S’okay now. Look at me.”

John’s hands moved to protect his face as soon as they were free, and Homelander watched with curiosity as Ben walked his other self through various methods of grounding. In a way, he almost felt… wrong for having done it. A disgusting, foreign feeling, and he wasn’t quite sure why he felt it. He certainly felt nothing of the sort massacring half of his Earth.

“I’m not there,” John gasps, a chill creeping through his body as the adrenaline and fear began to subside. “Not there, not there, not there…”

“That’s right, pumpkin.” Ben affirms. “You’re with me. You know that means you’re safe, right?”

John nodded vigorously, sitting up to embrace Benjamin, burying his face in the bug's neck.

He's so fucking pathetic, but…

God, Homelander wishes someone would hold him like that. Maybe if someone would've wiped his snotty little face, kissed his brow, loved him enough…

He shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts.

He’s met with a piercing stare from his other self. It’s almost laughable. Like a house cat threatening a lion.

Homelander watches the pair stand. Sees how Benjamin frets over possible injuries, pats him down despite all the reassurances there were none. It’s endearing, almost.

He trails after the pair as Ben swings them home. Watches how his other self relaxes his hold around Benjamin’s neck, completely and utterly trusting that he won’t get dropped for the umpteenth time in one day. He can tell that the nighttime air chills him, and he can hear Ben apologize and promise a hot bath.

Something in him feels wrong when they arrive back at the house.

Benjamin invites him in, but something isn’t right.

He isn’t right.

His body tingles and his head feels like it’s floating away from his body. He pretends to feel fine as they all take a seat in the living room to discuss everything.

He stifles a breathy laugh at the way his counterpart sits away from him. Yet, somehow, there’s an ounce of guilt.

Ben explains the fine details to John, but he doesn’t excuse the behavior. Makes sure to motion to Homelander when he tells John just how sorry his superpowered self was for such an act.

Homelander grumbles out his apology– yet another thing he’s never done before now. At least, not with any real sincerity. But the look in Ben’s eyes makes him want to mean it. So he says it again.

This time, he gives it meaning.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you.” His throat burns with each word. “For hurting you and trying to take him away from you.”

The tingling feeling returns tenfold.

Something must be happening, because the other two look at him with wide eyes. A glance down at his hands, and he appears to be dematerializing.

“W-What the fuck?” He stands abruptly, swatting at his body as flakes of light float from him. He rubs his arms, wrings his hands, he panics. “What’s happening to me?!”

Arms wrapping around his body startle him. Tears well up in his eyes when he realizes it’s not only Benjamin, but his other self as well.

“Think you’re goin’ home, pumpkin. You got this.” Ben murmurs against his neck.

The ache settles into his heart once more, but it feels different this time. He’s going to lose this.

“I don’t wanna go…” He sniffles, staring down at that head of unruly brown hair. “I– I wanna stay!” It’s warm here. Even when it’s hard to find, there’s still a degree of peace. And Ben– Ben’s so nice to him.

“I wanna stay!” He repeats desperately. “Don’t make me go…”

Hands rest at his face to make him focus.

“Look at me,” his other self says. “You’ll find what you need. Just gotta let it come to you.”

He shakes his head.

“Time and work, Homelander.” Ben reminds him. “I believe in you.”

Just as the tingling feeling becomes a full body vibration, his other self redirects his gaze. Blue meets blue, and he feels Ben hug him tighter.

“I forgive you.”

The feeling explodes, and he feels his body fade in and out of nothingness. He’s unsure what’s left of him, but he imagines some of those glowing particles still linger. Maybe Benjamin will miss him..?

He aches in the void. Sobs and screams, pulls at his hair.

He’s a wreck for an endless amount of time, floating through nothing until he blinks and he’s somehow back.

Back in the halls of Vought Tower, repurposed to serve as his worldly throne. Homelander meanders aimlessly. His followers salute him as he passes by, but his gaze remains fixed on the ground.

Why does everything look so gray?

Everything’s so… quiet.

Why is it so cold here?

He floats up flights of stairs to avoid people. Makes his way to the conference room with an idle mind.

Something just told him that’s where he should go.

He watches the city from his glass palace. The skyline doesn’t fill him with a sense of power as it once did. The crumbling decay only serves to remind him of how dismal it all really is here.

He stares. Contemplates. Loses himself for perhaps an hour or so.

He even ignores the sound of timid footsteps approaching him.

“Mister Homelander, sir?” asks a familiar voice.

Couldn’t be…

Their heart beats like a jackhammer, and their adrenaline is sky high. They smell so familiar, even covered in the stink of this world.

He turns around, stunned.

“I uhm… Sorry, sir,” outstretched is a hand to shake his. A spinneret rests at the base of his wrist. Soft brown eyes dart back and forth between meeting his gaze and looking away.

He’s nervous, but… he’s not afraid.

“I’m your new uhm…” The boy trailed off, chuckling nervously. “My name’s Benjamin– er, Ben is fine, too. Your choice, of course. I guess I’m your new whatever-you-want-me-to-be. T-They didn’t really specify, y’know?”

Homelander’s eyes soften, and he fights the bite of tears.

Time and work.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Benjamin.” He smiles down at the boy fondly. “Welcome home.”

note: this may become its own series depending on how badly it gives me brain worms

#homelander #homelander x oc #depowered homelander #homelander au #the boys au #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #antony starr #the benlander agenda #benlander being the standard across multiple universes is hehehe so good #au convergence

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year ago

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Baby Kal AU Headcanon

Kal gets his heat vision during a tantrum around 10yrs old. This time it happens to be Lena telling him no, and when his feelings get too big the lasers fire off-- except that its still Lena that he's glaring at.

It catches her on the side of the face. She cries out in sudden agony, spinning and clapping her hand over her face. It shocks Kal out of his tantrum, only for his anger to be replaced by fear and horror.

Kara's there the moment Lena cries out, standing between them and eclipsing Lena from Kal's view. Kal's eyes fill with tears as he recoils in apprehension, uncertain of what Kara will do next.

"I-I didn't mean to--!" His voice cracks as he hiccups a sob, before he whooshes out of the room-- out of the house entirely.

Kara hesitates before flying after him, turning to check on her wife first. Lena also recoils when Kara reaches for her shoulder, trying to turn her around to see the damage.

"I'm fine," Lena lies between muted moans of pain. "Go."

Kara obeys, and has a long talk with Kal, after she lets him cry his eyes out against her chest.

Later, she and Lena will have the argument brewing behind Lena's words in the kitchen-- a mundane parenthood argument of Kara dodging the responsibility of saying no, forcing Lena to be the bad guy, a choice Kara had no way of knowing that it would ultimately result in permanent scars.

Lena never holds it against Kal. They have their own long talk, as they discuss ways to reduce the risk of it happening again. Lena's always good about that-- treating Kal like an equal, despite being his mom.

She could afford the world's best plastic surgeons if she wanted to, but Lena chooses to let the burn heal naturally. She never once tries to hide it, doesn't feel an ounce of shame in it, but for Kal and Kara the brand across her cheek serves as a reminder of how easy it can be to hurt someone, even unintentionally.

And as a reminder that Lena chooses to love them anyway.

#supercorp #baby kal el au #poor kal el #bc of course it would happen with lena

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blondeboyfriend · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Eren Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another oldie. Shout out to Mica for beta reading this for me. [ SYNOPSIS ] You return home from college to housesit while your mother is away. Everything seems rather mundane until you have a chance meeting with a strange yet alluring man. [ WORD COUNT ] 4.1k [ CONTENT ] Dark content, modern AU, Eren's fucking awful in this, manipulation, stalking, masturbation, dubcon bordering on noncon, degradation, vaginal fingering.

“Thank you so much for watching the house, little one,” your mother said, pinching your cheek.

An action that would usually leave you aggravated was welcome intimacy. College made you miss everyone. Mundane things became beacons of light in a darkened sea of melancholy. It was hard not to internalize the pain, the loneliness that plagued you and turned your stomach into a bottomless pit.

Even as you stood in front of your mother and her kind eyes, you couldn’t help but think of how eventually you would leave this isolated exurb and return to hell itself. You’d wrestle with complicated coursework, cry in the communal bathroom when your roommate refused to stop blasting Post Malone, and sit through lectures with lecherous professors that asked you “to go on walks and discuss poetry.”

“Of course, you think I’m gonna turn down a chance to throw a massive party? I’m trying to relive my teenage fantasy.”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a hug.

“I transferred some money into your bank account for food. Please don’t spend it all on junk.”

Bags of Cheetos danced through your mind.

“You got it,” you lied.

She grabbed her suitcase and floated out the door, leaving you to your own devices. You watched her drive off through the front window, a puff of exhaust lingering as she sped off to the airport. You strode into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. The only contents being two jars of artisan mustard, a Greek yogurt, an absurd amount of spaghetti, and a bag of Rainier cherries.

“Pantry’s gotta be better.”

You flung the door to it and were confronted with a hard sourdough baguette and a box of generic Frosted Flakes. You sighed and closed the door dejectedly. Biking to the convenience store sounded woefully unappealing in 90 degree weather especially when the entire ride was sun-soaked.

“Eh, fuck it.”

You scrambled through your overnight bag and pulled out your sunscreen, slathering it all over you. You pocketed your wallet, grabbed your bike, and began your journey.

The second you opened the door, sunlight irradiated you. Quickly you put on your sunglasses and cautiously biked along the hyper heated concrete. Sweat oozed from your pores, sunscreen melting off your face and weaseling its way into your eyes. Wiping them crossed your mind but your hands were busy. You blinked repeatedly hoping to mitigate the problem but it was a thankless task.

When you finally got to the convenience store you dropped your bike in front of the entrance, growing more exhausted and thirsty by the second. A large “cash only” sign flashed in your face.

“Since when?” You asked no one in particular.

You stumbled inside the store over to the ATM and took out $40 from your bank account. The machine decided to take its sweet time, whirring for a good five minutes before spitting out your cash. After waiting for what felt like hours you trudged to the back and struggled to find anything that remotely looked like what you wanted.

“No, no, no,” you said as you peered into every fridge. “Fuck my ass. Come on.”

A stifled laugh brought you out of your trance.

“Watch out, some creep might try to take you up on that offer.”

“Oh shit, my bad!” You deferred.

The man turned his attention towards you. He was inhumanly gorgeous. His skin sun kissed, long espresso colored hair piled on top of his head in a messy bun, eyes greener than any field you’d seen. He wore a red tropical print button-up with short sleeves and fitted denim shorts. His smile was wide and jovial, one you could trust.

“’S all good,” he said, his eyes lingering on your lips.

“I, uh… Hey, have you seen anything that isn’t a Red Bull or a bottle of St Ides? I’d ask the guy at the counter but he seems rather engrossed in his reading.”

You slyly pointed at the cashier whose nose was buried in a vintage Playboy.

“I have, follow me,” he said, his voice like velvet. A siren’s song.

He wrapped an arm around you and led you to a fridge full of your favorite shit.

“Oh wow, thank you!”

His hands trailed down to your waist. “No problem. Hate to see a pretty thing like you look so lost.”

He looked you over one last time and headed over to the cashier. He pointed at a small bottle of silver Bacardi and slunk out the door after making his purchase. He slowly drove off in a burgundy 1970 Ford Galaxie.

The man was kind yet odd. A face you wouldn’t mind seeing again but one you’d likely run from if you encountered it in a dark alley.

You grabbed a couple bags of chips and one of the bananas that sat on the front counter. The ride home felt significantly easier this time around, your feet less heavy. Just a brief moment of social interaction was enough to make your day.

The pleasantness of your ride quickly dissipated as you noticed a car trailing behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, but as you turned your head to get a better look the car made a sharp u-turn, speeding off in the other direction. Unease crept up on you, making your hands tremble ever so slightly.

All you saw was a flash of burgundy.

The housing development your mother bought into was initially supposed to be a dream-like landscape of exurban bliss. Pastel tract homes with detached garages and green lawns thriving despite nature’s uninhabitable wrath. The money hungry builders saw the arid valley and thought “upscale homes with a golf course and an outdoor mall.”

Of course it never took off. Living in the rain shadow of a massive mountain range was a tough sell and anyone with a brain knew the cotton candy colored homes wouldn’t last in the heat. However those desperate to own land bought them up at auction, your mother being one of them. She ended up with the best one, in her opinion.

“Some of them were worth more than others,” she said, as if she got away with a crime.

The house sat at the edge of the development, a clear view of the towering, jagged mountains to the east. The only thing that separated you from the wilds of the valley was the shoddy fencing your mother haphazardly fixed from time to time. Your closest neighbor, Hannes, lived comically far away on the other side of the development.

You stared down a pile of empty chip bags, regretting your decision to buy straight up junk and a banana. Delivery options were limited to pizza and Thai food; not many restaurants liked driving to the edge of the earth for a single order.

You grabbed your laptop ultimately deciding to order pizza.

“Ugh, of course my credit card info isn’t saved,” you whined.

You patted your pocket where you had previously stored your wallet but nothing was there.

“The fuck?”

You tore off your shorts and shook them. Nothing. No wallet.

“Shit. Guess I’ll call the store.”

You called the convenience store guy and he was utterly useless. Your stomach grumbled, reverberating throughout your body. Hunger took hold of you. You decided to toast the stale bread and eat it with olive oil. You figured you should save the rest of your cash for actual groceries.

“’Hey little one, what’d you eat when I was gone?’ Oh nothing, mama, just fucking croutons.”

The kitchen was bathed in a pinkish glow. The sun settled behind the mountains leaving the sky shades of pink, orange, and blue. It was a loveliness you missed, something you couldn’t find in overly pruned parks and crowded campus cafes. You preheated the oven and struggled to break the bread into bite-sized pieces.

“Fuck,” you muttered as a particularly hard bit of crust works its way under your fingernail.

You held your hand up to examine it and breathed a sigh of relief, no blood. Your relief was short lived as you noticed something rustling in the checkerblooms. You leaned over the counter to get a better look but you saw nothing. Just purple flowers ebbing in the evening breeze.

“Coulda been an elk,” you said to calm your nerves.

That morning you found used condoms outside the kitchen window filled to the brim with milky cum. You didn’t mention it to Hannes when you biked down to his house for money and socializing.

The days were easy to get through. You biked around the development when the heat was at its kindest. You bitched to Hannes about how isolated you were but also how you were far too lazy to remedy the situation. You watched game shows and soap operas. Immersing yourself in daytime television was a welcomed, mind numbing distraction.

The nights were what got the best of you.

You called your mother when the fear became too much, when you’d hear footsteps outside your window. But her advice was always the same.

“Drink a Pabst and turn on Golden Girls! Or ask the delivery guy to hang out with you.”

“Don’t you have a security system?”

“Is this what college has done to you? I remember just last year you couldn’t even remember to lock the front door.”

A million thoughts ran rampant through your brain. She was right after all; you were rather careless growing up in the mundanity of the valley. You sought excitement by skipping through the alkali flats, kicking up rancid dust. You ran around with stray dogs and even got bit by one. A lonely, little girl like you was a professional at putting yourself in questionable circumstances.

“Whatever. I still can’t find my wallet though,” you whined.

“Did you try calling the store again?”

“Why would I call them again?”

“I don’t know,” she said, voice filled with exasperation. “The money I sent should get to you soon.”

“Still don’t think it was smart to literally mail me money.”

She laughed. “Alright, little one. Call me tomorrow.”

And with that your mother hung up. You gazed outside the window as a tule elk meandered by, sniffing the ground occasionally stopping to nibble on a shrub. It lifted its head and jerked it around quickly, an urgent look in its eye. Before you blinked it bounded off into the distance, almost like it was never there in the first place. Curiosity got the better of you and you decided to investigate. You grabbed a kitchen knife and held it like you’d seen all those final girls do in slasher movies.

“I can’t die like this,” you whispered to yourself. “I haven’t even had a threesome yet.”

You crept towards the front door and looked through the peephole. Not a thing, just dead grass and concrete. You sighed and dropped the knife, feeling silly for even grabbing it in the first place. With this new found peace you stepped into the kitchen to brew some tea only to be startled by a faceless figure.

“Holy shit!” You shrieked, ducking under the kitchen table knowing full well you were still visible. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you muttered.

“Hi, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

His voice was oddly friendly, but not so much that you were willing to respond.

“I, uh, found your wallet. Sorry it took me a bit, you just live so far out here.”

You poked your head out from under the table and looked up.

It was the handsome man from the convenience store. He looked decidedly less gorgeous, but a babe all the same. His hair now hung past his shoulders, partially obscuring his face. He wore the same tropical print shirt and shorts you saw him in previously but they were now paired with a faded denim jacket lined with cream Sherpa.

“You want it back or can I keep it?” He asked, his voice as velvety as ever.

“I—I definitely need it.”

You crawled out from under the table and gestured for him to meet you at the front door. As you opened it you saw him leaning on his car, arms crossed.

“Hey, so my wallet?” You shouted at him.

“I, uh, left it at home.”

“Oh.”

He grinned. “Didn’t realize it until I checked my pocket. It’s back at my place if you wanna take a ride.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I—I have Thai food coming and like, so, I gotta be here when it shows up.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll drop by tomorrow then, that alright?”

No was the first word to enter your mind but you wanted your damn wallet.

“That sounds fine. Thanks, uh…”

“Eren,” he purred.

You forced a smile. “Thank you, Eren. I’ll see you tomorrow. Just gimme a call when you’re close, okay?”

He nodded and waved as you turned to go back inside. Once safe and locked in the house you watched him linger, his eyes still fixed on the spot you previously stood in. He waited around for a good five minutes before he got in his car and sped off.

That night, as you struggled to drift asleep, you reluctantly thought of Eren. You slipped your hand in your underwear and rubbed your clit, pretending that it was him doing so. You bit down on your bottom lip as you traced your fingers down your folds, coating them with your fluids. You slid your hand under your t-shirt and pinched your nipple.

“E—eren,” you whimpered, thrusting up against your hand.

You pictured his strong arms around you, plunging his throbbing cock deeper and deeper inside you. The look of unbridled lust in his emerald eyes as he held you close, pumping you full of his cum.

Your breathing quickened and your toes curled as your orgasm rushed through your body. You continued to mewl his name, your body going limp as your lust subsided. Shame immediately hit you and you rolled over onto your side in a fetal position.

“Why am I like this?” You asked as you tried to will yourself unconscious.

That morning you were greeted with a lack of cell service.

“Seriously?”

You made a few attempts to call your mother, groaning every time it was dropped. Eventually you resigned yourself to being even more cut off from the world. It’s not like you’d be alone for long. Eren did say he’d be dropping by with your wallet, though he never specified when that would be.

The day dragged on and your patience waned. You sat in the kitchen, eating cherries and scowling out the window. Eren finally arrived just as the sun started to lower itself.

He tapped on the door, with his car keys.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he crooned.

You cautiously opened the door and let him in. He smelled like rum and cheap deodorant. His shirt was dingier every time you saw it, it’s once bright hue losing saturation. His denim shorts were dappled with white stains and dirt. Everything about him screamed freak but you welcomed him inside anyway.

“Hey, so…”

“Ah, yeah,” he said, pulling your wallet out of his pocket.

He held it out of reach the second you went to grab it from him.

“Work for it.”

There was something inherently ominous about his grin. It wasn’t a particularly creepy one, in fact it was rather lovely. But his eyes hid something, there was a blankness to them. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, utterly unreadable.

“Come on.”

You attempted to grab it again but he again jerked it out of reach.

“You come on,” he teased.

His eyes looked through you. It was as if he didn’t register you as a person, a human, an equal. You struggled to hide your fear which softened his demeanor.

“I’m sorry. I see a pretty girl and all I wanna do is fuck with her.”

He finally handed you your wallet, his fingers brushing yours.

“Those are some nice hands.”

You gulped and tried your best to look unbothered.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Any chance you could gimme one?”

“Excuse me?”

He flashed you another grin.

“My car’s having some trouble, thing’s old as fuck. Could you lend me a hand?”

“I don’t know much about cars honestly.”

“Having another pair of eyes on it will help. Maybe you’ll catch something I missed.”

You followed him out the door even though your conscious screamed for you to turn around, to go back inside and lock your door. He led you over to his car, the hood was already lifted. You stared into it not sure what to look at.

“See anything strange?” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You laughed nervously.

“N—no, not really.”

He leaned closer to your ear and whispered, his breath reeked of rum.

“Oh come on, baby. Take a better look.”

He pushed you against the car, his semi-hard cock rubbing against your ass. You froze as he rocked his hips against you. Eren groaned as he continued to thrust.

Run, you thought to yourself. Get the fuck away from him. But instead you stood there, clenching your fists, fighting the urge to grind up against him.

“Oh you like that, huh?” He whispered, his tongue flicking your ear.

You arched your back and bit your lip as he rutted against you, his cock now fully erect. A small moan exited your lips as Eren shoved his hands down your shorts. He rubbed your clit through your underwear.

“Ye—yes,” you mumbled.

He leaned in and sniffed your hair, his breath hitching as he savored the smell of your shampoo. His fingers pulled your underwear to the side and he coated them with your fluids.

“You’re this wet already?”

You kept quiet, you were afraid of what depraved things would leave your lips if you opened them. It had been so long and you were so lonely. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak.

“It’s okay, baby. Open your mouth for me.”

He took his fingers out of your cunt and forced them into your mouth.

“Suck them clean.”

You ran your tongue on the underside of his rough fingers.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Tell me how good this feels.”

He shoved them back down into your shorts and started to finger you. Stifling your moans was out of the question.

“Ohhh, Eren,” you whined. “Feels s—so good.”

“How would you like it if I fucked you in the back seat, baby?”

You nodded feebly. He let you go and led you to the back. You glanced inside and saw zip ties, duct tape, and a mallet on the floor partially hidden under the driver’s seat.

“I have to go!” You shouted abruptly as you ran back to the house, tripping on the porch.

Eren glared at you, his eyes losing any semblance of sanity.

“I’m gonna get you. You think runnin’ from me is gonna do you any favors?”

You sat there like a wounded doe, clutching your bleeding knee. You wanted to get up and run but fear had you in a chokehold.

“J—just leave, please,” you said, trying to sound brave. “My neighbor’s supposed to check on me any minute now. You don’t wanna deal with him.”

Lies. Hannes wasn’t coming and Eren didn’t move a muscle.

“You think I’m scared of some drunk that lives up the road? Hannes ain’t gonna do shit,” he hissed.

How the fuck did he know Hannes? Eren’s words were like poison. Whatever pleasantness you imagined was gone. He was a monster, a menace.

“Just go!” You screamed, voice cracking. “Get the fuck out of here!”

He stood completely still, not even his facial expression changed. You got to your feet and scrambled inside, locking the door behind you.

You watched Eren through the window as you attempted to call Hannes but the call refused to go through. Calling the cops crossed your mind but they were always useless so you refrained.

Eren lingered around for about a half an hour before he finally drove off, his car running perfectly.

You didn’t sleep that night. Didn’t even shut an eye. You sat on the floor, your phone dead in your hand. There was still no service. You felt more shut off than ever, haunted by your loneliness and what it made you do. It made you sick. Nausea plagued you all night, the lingering feeling of his hands on your body made the room spin. It was all too much to bear.

When you saw Eren drive up at dawn you barely had a reaction. You were too tired to be afraid. He got out of his car, still in the same outfit, his stringy hair hanging in his face. The sun shined behind him and his features seemed distorted in the early morning light. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or maybe there was something truly wrong with this man.

He sat on the hood of his car, staring at the front door. You were sure he could see through it, see your pathetic form on the floor. You hoped he’d leave, but he didn’t.

He sat there for an hour before you finally decided to peek your head out the door.

“Hey, baby, did you miss me?”

“No,” you said, opening the door completely.

“You invitin’ me in?”

“Absolutely not. Stay back.”

There wasn’t much space between you and Eren. The front lawn was of average size and it’s not like the sidewalk was very wide. He could snatch you up easy.

“Alright, alright,” he acquiesced.

“What do you want?”

He batted his eyelashes at you, clearly trying to disarm you.

“Come take a ride with me.”

“You’re insane. No. Now go.”

You pointed at the road. You tried to mirror how your mother told off overzealous evangelists that pounded on her door every so often.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“Well I’m not leaving this house,” you said firmly.

“What do you think I’m gonna do to you, huh?”

“I saw what was in your car.”

“I keep a lotta things in there.”

“I called the cops the second you drove up,” you lied.

He smirked.

“They would’ve been here by now. Guess they’re not coming,” he mused, calling your bluff.

“I called Hannes too and my mom. The—they’re gonna be here soon.”

“Your mom’s out of the country last time I checked.”

“How—”

“And if I remember correctly the little jammer I set up shoulda been blocking your cell signal. So unless you got a landline you haven’t called shit.”

You wanted to puke.

“I—I—why?”

“Look at you,” he cheered. “Such a cutie, and so alone!”

He got up off the hood of his car and opened the door to the backseat.

“Hop in.” He said with a sick smile on his face.

“No, I’m not going.”

“You want me to grab you by the hair and force you in? I will if I have to.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’ll rip that shit from your scalp. Wouldn’t bother me any,” he sneered. “I’d still fuck you.”

“I have a gun.”

Another lie. You didn’t have any weapons, not even a kitchen knife. You were defenseless.

“You think I’m afraid of some little slut with a gun? Get in the car.”

Tears fell from your eyes, but you didn’t make a sound. You just stared at the ground.

“Come on, it’s only a ride.”

“Okay,” you said in a small voice.

“Hmm?” Eren’s eyes widened.

“I’ll go. I just wanna grab some things. That okay?”

He nodded and you scurried inside. You grabbed your bag and tossed your wallet in it. Eren stood outside, checking his phone. You frantically yanked your phone charger from the wall and tossed it in along with your phone.

The sun still hung low in the sky. Eren honked his horn an obnoxious amount of times, each iteration filling you with more and more anxiety. You flung the back door open and hopped over the fence, your sock catching on it. Your ankle twisted ever so slightly.

“Sh—shit,” you groaned.

Eren continued to honk his horn. You stood up and sprinted away from the yard, your ankle throbbing the whole time. You knew civilization was in the other direction, but so was Eren. Avoiding him was more important. Escape was what you wanted, safety be damned. Every inch of the development was tainted with his presence, even your mother’s home. You knew running into the shadows of the mountains was a bad idea, but you didn’t care. You’d run forever if you had to.

Don't ask me for a part 2, y/n died of exposure. xoxo gossip finn

#eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #.fics #.aot #.eren #x reader #reader insert

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omgpurplefattie · 6 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

I have two WIPs at the moment, so have a snippet from both.

First, from the next episode of my Star Trek AU, RV Lianhua Lou:

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

“Tell me again why you have to go,” Xiaobao whined after they were done with dinner that night and lingering over tea. “And so soon! It’s just been a few weeks; the lotus seeds from Artemisia have only just sent their first leaves to the surface.”

Di Feisheng patted his cheek. To be honest, he was loath to leave the young human as well. It was obvious how good having both of them around was for Xiangyi’s constitution. Xiangyi, who had been a mere shadow of his formerly shining self when they first reunited at the Nanyin site. But that was about to change.

“Because I am a crew member of a Klingon ship as well,” Di Feisheng said, patiently, while Li LIanhua looked on with a fond and wistful little smile. “And they expect me to do my duty, or I will be considered a renegade. I am not ready for that at this moment; I don't want to deny my entire roots.”

Unlike some here.

“Also, the contact picking me up is my ship’s doctor,” he added. “The one who put me into that pod after the accident. If anybody knows how to help your captain’s condition, it will be him.”

“But we’re not putting our HuaHua into a cryopod for ten years!” Fang Duobing protested, aghast. “I don’t want to -- please, I would hate it if I had to part ways with both of you. Just now, when we started…”

“No, I’m definitely not going into a cryopod for ten years,” Li Lianhua said, patting Xiaobao’s cheek as well. He had very pattable cheeks.

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

Secondly, from the post-canon fic I am writing for Dragon Boat Festival, inspired by a conversation with @ahfeiandhisdao in the notes of another post:

They strode into town dramatically, like the jianghu heroes they were, or had been: two fighters in silk and armor, wrist guards and pauldrons, openly carrying their swords, flanking a small man in green-grey linen, soft and mundane, carrying a hamper. All three were wearing masks -- a green taotie pattern, a bronze fox face, and silver leaves -- showing their intention to remain anonymous and incognito.

However, walking into the town of Suzhou on the fifth day of the fifth month, the effect fell a bit flat. Wave upon wave of impressive people walked through the same gates, proudly strode up the long flagstone streets, or sat down to drink in front one of the innumerable wine-houses. There were nobles with retinue, wizened old masters, merchants with their families, groups of trained fighters, grand ladies of dubious reputation, gaggles of sect disciples set free for the day: an ocean of silk and chatter, of swishing hair and fluttering fans, parasols and weapons, pointy guans and jingling earrings.

“We could have saved ourselves the bother of wearing masks,” Di Feisheng grumbled as he shouldered his way through the throng. “Nobody even looks twice. Nobody gets out of our way. We’re just three people in a sea of people, all of them as important as ourselves.”

#mysterious lotus casebook #li lianhua #di feisheng #fang duobing #wip wednesday #liansanjiao

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 2 years ago

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Lmao no no, not jealous as in he thinks he'll get attention if the cats are gone, more like "why the hell do they care about these stupid things so much, cats are awful and I hate them and I'm sick of seeing people fawn over them, they don't deserve it". Volo seems like the kind of person who if he really doesn't like something, seeing it get a lot of what he feels is undue attention and praise would just makes him hate it even more. Which I guess maybe envy isn't the right word for that, though it feels envy-adjacent to me. If he doesn't like it, no one else can like it either.

But if we're for sure going with they're just train hopping strays though, an even easier, more mundane motive opens up of there was a cat on his train and he hated how fucking loud it was all the time, so he got rid of it. Emmet was on the same train of course but they were in separate places at the time, so he didn't actually see Ingo go overboard. When he figures out what happened he waits until the next stop before backtracking on foot. Countryside train stops are quite far apart though, so it takes him a long time, in which plot can happen to Ingo.

Although that does imply a passenger train, if someone is able to get to them while the train is moving. It would probably make the most sense if the train cat community (boxcar cats?) traveled mainly by freight trains, because they go more places and there's less chance of someone finding them and shooing them off (or worse).

Is there a reason you can think of that the boys might decide to travel somewhere without the other? Because Volo (or whoever) could be just some dude they happened to be sharing an empty freight car with as they traveled, but I'm not sure how anything could happen to Ingo without Emmet seeing and probably jumping out right after him in a panic. Or as soon as they get out of the tunnel, if it happens in one.

Canon had the right idea of just using magic to separate the twins, they're just so close-knit it's hard to find ways to feasibly do it otherwise

LMAO YEAH they simply will not allow themselves to be separated unless you literally get Divine Intervention to do so. but yeah i would also expect that they traveled mainly by freight, and also that they probably wouldn't actually get on a train by themselves? bc that seems like a fast track to getting separated since there's no guarantee you can get a ride going back. which means that i feel like whatever happened, probably happened when the train was stopped? or like, they were hanging out in the railyard, bc that's a time where i'd expect them to maybe split up, and someone happened to find ingo alone and like. catnapped him. and then by the time emmet realized he wasn't just taking a while to catch up, the train had already left and he had no idea where he could be. if you want to explain why ingo did not yowl like a fire alarm and immediately alert both him and any other people working at the yard, you could also say that they offered him some drugged food first. which probably doesn't knock him out instantly but might make him too groggy/disoriented to yell.

but yeah that leaves to me also the question of whether it is actually volo who's doing this, or if volo is another cat. bc it is sort of interesting also to contemplate porting the "regular person causes an entire divine apocalypse for extremely petty personal reasons and lies about his involvement" thing to this au. what if volo was someone's outdoor cat? ...alternately, there WAS a shapeshifter in those bear books, wasn't there

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #anonymous #pokefic pitch #idk im spitballing here. the whole volo protagonist thing might not even be relevant at all. it might just be an ingo centric au

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ineffable-hyperfixation · 3 months ago

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I'm a little busy so I can't get links rn but also look into @mrghostrat, @summerofspock, and @voluptatiscausa!! (Also just ahem gonna @zehwulf @snae-b @naromoreau @feraltuxedo there's so many more I'm sorry if my adhd brain left you out)

Also you can read them in whatever order tickles your fancy, but if you wanna start with Lunacy by snae-b it'll help you understand/kickstarts their own personal Lore 😉 (honestly everything they've written is insanely good enjoy)

Edit: ok I lied, took a break for links, these are some of my favorites by above authors (though honestly anything of theirs you read will be worth it. Colors mean nothing I just like colors lol)

Postcards from Paris - ghostrat

Rated G - ~12k words

Human AU - Crowley has just moved into his Mayfair apartment and finds a postcard addressed to the previous tenant. With no return address, he's left to collect and read the mysterious A.Z.F.'s adventures across Europe, where he hunts for bizarre bibles and rates ridiculously expensive wine in his free time. The question is: How will A.Z.F. react when Crowley finally gets his return address and writes back?

(the mad lad (gn) is also a wonderful artist and decided to photoshop some actual postcards to put into the fic recently!! It's so fun!!)

Big Name Feelings - ghostrat

Rated E ~104k words

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

(art from the author included!! The last chapter/epilogue is stunning)

Car Trouble - Summerofspock

Rated E ~100k words

Human AU - Aziraphale's car breaks down so he takes it to the first mechanic he can find. From there, his mundane life changes drastically as he finds himself befriending the man fixing his car.

Communicatio in Sacris - Voluptatiscausa

Rated E - ~10k words

Human AU (Crowley's the priest in this one! Shakes things up a bit)

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been one year since my last confession. These are my sins.”

There’s a slight pause. “Gosh. Give me a moment. I knew I should have made up a list, this happens every year. Forget my own head next. Ah, yes. Hmm. Now you may want to get comfortable.”

And here's a couple more of my personal faves to throw in!!

The Shared Desk Dilemma - MissUnderstoodLyrics

Rated E - ~32k words

Human AU - In the hallowed halls of Eden University, professors Aziraphale Eastgate and Anthony Crowley share a desk but have nothing else in common—except for their knack for outwitting each other with escalating pranks that have the entire faculty taking sides. When the university president, in a desperate bid to restore peace, mandates a team-building retreat, the adversaries find themselves reluctantly sharing a room, and sparks fly.

Crowley can't stand the pompous, irksome Dr. Eastgate, and the feeling appears to be mutual, yet they can't seem to keep their hands off each other.

Pray for us, Icarus series - Atalan (It's heart wrenchingly sad but so so worth it)

Rated G-T - ~65k words

For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

(High-octane angst for the first few stories, shifting gradually into hurt/comfort and eventually a happy ending.)

ya girl finally watched good omens and am now foaming at the mouth for fanfics bc what the fuck was that ending?? obviously just gonna scroll through anything marked as good omens fanfic on ao3 but if anyone knows absolute bangers i need to read please let me know!!!

#to read #oh look i went overboard lmao #i stopped myself #there's sooo many good ones op #i realize these are all au and mostly e rated whoops #lol i was rereading and realized i said bnf was only 104 words 🤣#yeah is real short 😂😂#let's just go ahead and add a k in there lol

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edoro · 2 years ago

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Questions for fic writers: 9, 16, 26, 41

9. How do you find new fic to read? - every day, several times a day, i check my ao3 dashboard to see if i got any new comments, and then i hit the Hunter | The Golden Guard (The Owl House) tag and see if any new Hunter fics have been posted that i want to read.

sometimes people will recommend me fics that do not specifically involve him as a tagged character, and every so often i venture out of my current fandom fixation into a new one, but i pretty much always have a particular character or grouping of characters that i want to read about, so i primarily sort by character tags.

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)? - i really love the Tag Team TOH au, and in general the entire concept of "what if Belos ended up getting Luz before Eda did?"

TOH specifically is also a canon that i think makes for a fascinating adaptation into a more mundane realistic setting - i also really love the fic Clawthorne's Landing, which is a mundane human au where Hunter runs away from his abusive uncle and ends up working at a farm run by Lilith in exchange for room and board. it's such a specialized little look into the author's personal area of experience and i love when aus show me a new way of looking at the world that i haven't experienced before!

i also theoretically enjoy the idea of like, social worker aus, where characters end up encountering Hunter specifically bc he gets removed from his uncle's custody due to various horrific abuses, but i have yet to find one that i actually like reading in practice.

i would also absolutely LOVE to see some kind of au where somehow Belos ends up dying before the Day of Unity and Hunter ends up on the throne, because i love me some tasty political intrigue. i want the full ASOIAF treatment here.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? - oh, probably no dialogue. it's entirely possible i have WRITTEN fics with no dialogue? actually, Become Ungovernable comes pretty close because the only dialogue in it is a brief flashback to the canon scene that happens immediately before the fic starts.

but yeah i'd definitely find it much easier to write environmental descriptions or meandering internal monologue rather than all dialogue.

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.” - oooh gosh well tbqh every time i read a well-written fic i have a minor crisis of feeling like because that isn't my personal exact style, I Must Be Doing It Wrong, but!

The_Resurrection_3D has written a handful of TOH fics which are all my favorite entries in the "wow, there is something Fucking Wrong with Philip Wittebane" genre, and i love his style a lot. it's poetically gorgeous and communicates quite a lot with relatively few words (a thing i am very much not capable of lmao) and i also really admire the way he plays with style and structure and format.

i also really love the fic what we are is the sum of a thousand lies because of, specifically, how absolutely fucking funny it is, while still feeling very in-character. written humor can be hard! i like to think i'm funny but that's really up to peer review, right? anyway though, the sort of wryly understated ridiculousness of the entire situation and the verbal exchanges here, contrasting with but never undermining or overshadowing the emotional impact of the situation itself, are just very good and something i definitely strive for myself.

#ask game #asks #fic recs

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marlasomething · 3 years ago

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Jonmartin Week 2022 Day 2: I’ll Be Your Shelter

Hello there!

As said in previous one-shots of this week, I cannot see a "challenge" and let it go so...#Jonmartinweek2022 here we are! The idea is "forcing myself" to write piece of under 1K in different universes, hope @jonmartinweek enjoy my teeny tiny contributions!

This was written for the prompt of day 2: I'll Carry You/Chronic Pain and it is set in an AU universe in which Sasha is The Archivist (and, if anyone is interested, poor Rosie is the one taken by the Not-Them), at some point in between S3 and S4; so...after The whole Circus deal.

Also: I will try to end all one-shots with the line of the finale "One way or another. Together", let's see how that goes (this once it hadn't been that precise, sorry).

As usual, do please forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

AO3 edition!

Here more fics in this universe!

Whole week Masterlist!

They hadn’t burnt alive, not exactly. They had been torn into pieces, killed by the implosion, by the poisonous air filled with carbon monoxide, the fire itself and every single object that had stuck inside of them, making themselves a home in their body as if they had been a puzzle with malleable free spaces.

There was no way of sugar coding it, it had hurt like hell and it had been far more brutal that they could have ever envisioned.

However, it had been their only choice, or that was what they had decided to bet on. When the moment to end the Circus had come…they had known, whomever was at the centre of it was going to die, and Sasha needed a human anchor, if they didn’t want her to become like one of those things of the Alexandria statement; at least, that what they believed.

Tim was the closest to her; he was extremely mad at her at the moment, yes. And his reasons were more than legitimate (if only, taken a bit too far; Martin reckoned, as he touched his previously white freckled skin, now a rosy mess barely human covered by a grey thread he’d rather not think about too much -or at all, if possible-), but he was still the one she would rely better on. Therefore, he could not die and, when push came to shove, Jon and him…they…they could just not let the other go.

And, now, both suffered the consequences of having been far more appreciated than they were comfortable with by The Mother of Puppets; brought back, but not entirely themselves.

However, they were not letting go of what make them them so easily, their decision being turned into the punishment of still being completely human for certain things.

Among them, the need of sleep.

And pain memory.

That was why, in the middle of the night, either one or both of them woke up, sweating, as they felt skin and muscle being stretched until the point of fracture due to heat, kinetic energy pushed towards them and pure pressure; as they desperately wanted to want to reach for the other, but it just hurt too much to even properly worry, to care about anything but pain.

And wishing not to die; they had many things they weren’t proud of in order of surviving before; lied, cheated (even themselves); all in order to get where they wanted. Even when it hadn’t been a selfish wish, they had known, deep down, that it hadn’t been right, not properly. But this had been the biggest of their regrets, this inability to actually care the very least for the other one.

Still…at the very end, seconds ago from a last yet not at all reassuring breath, they had chosen to embrace each other tighter.

I’ll be your shelter.

Martin is not certain who had said so, but he didn’t truly mind, it had been enough to part in peace; or it would have been; if they hadn’t become part of a pact they hadn’t asked for.

Or, perhaps, they actually had, with their actions, without realising it. Had they already been puppeteering on their own particular mundane way or had they already lost all Free Will before the Web had even properly decided to make them hers?

Had they ever had it?

The man wasn’t going to think about it know, though; as he was being awakened by Jon’s moans, as he tried to scratch the side of his face that had lost all recognisable features.

Martin wouldn’t lie to himself: he had thought the finger Jude Perry had been able to get hold of before Sasha could completely move away her hand after refusing a final handshake with The Desolation Avatar looked nasty.

His partner’s face…it made said finger seem more pleasant to stare at than Velazquez’s La Fragua de Vulcano. Not that he was any better himself, though.

But, at least, he didn’t felt his heart breaking, filled with gilt, every time he laid eyes on a mirror.

Perhaps, if he hadn’t tried to approach a man that had always been quite hostile to him, if he hadn’t asked for help on that case, if they hadn’t got trapped together back then, when everything had been just creepy statements, a workmate pinning on the boss and a Superior Boss that was very good at pretending being the most mundane creature in History of Humankind…

…and yet, he would never regret having the other man next to him right now He could never.

As Jon became completely conscious, though still clearly hurting; Martin took away the man’s own hands from his face as a spider starting trying to replace the now almost expected cobwebs where he had torn them apart.

“Ey, I’m here… just slip me on. I’ll be your blanket” those weren’t his words, but they were just perfect to ease Jon as the ghost pain start growing duller, staying just as a background noise in his head.

“Uh…Martin…” he muttered, words were an effort, as his tongue slip though the remains of his lips. “I woke you up…sorry.”

Martin cracked a soft laughter, more honest that he would have ever believed possible.

“It isn’t exactly as if we hadn’t change positions more than once, hadn’t we”? he leaned towards him, held his hands in a softer, more caring yet less worried manner and kissed him, tenderly. “Want to stay awake? I know you love to criticize Sky History documentaries.”

“And what about resting?”

“Our boss is on a coma. Our other boss is a Machiavellian villain and a regular ass too. Also, tea heals everything.”

“Of course you would say that” a smile started to attempt to make its appearance in Jon’s face.

“Any trouble with that?”

“Never. I’d never have any trouble with any of your… quirks. I love you” and, as much as they had lied (and were going to continue doing so); in that moment Martin knew no one had ever being that honest with him.

Just as he was, bare seconds after.

“I love you too. One way or another, I will always love you.”

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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hi!! for the requests, could I suggest hoseok, fluff, fake dating au, and the sentence 'I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.' thank you!

↳ Humdrum Amore

2.7k || 100% Fluff || Jung Hoseok

“I never thought I’d come back here one day.”

You stare at the brown building that you once dreaded. The same structure that you had to drag your feet into every morning five days a week after your dad dropped you off. But instead of feeling apprehension, there’s a sense of prickling nostalgia while you look at the building.

“Same.” The man beside you exhales, staring at the green field, the brown doors and small windows covered by blinds. “But it’s not all that bad, right?”

You turn to Hoseok who looks sharp in his simple suit and tie ensemble. You’ve seen him in the same clothes plenty of times, but while you’re wearing your red dress and you’re lingering in front of the school, it feels like the two of you have returned to being awkward eighteen year olds nervously going to prom together as friends.

But Hoseok eases you. “Come on.”

He takes your hand, a gesture you still aren’t used to, and tugs you inside.

The moment the doors are open, you follow the signs leading to the gymnasium and you’re met with a table of refreshments and goody bags. But more importantly, there are people already mingling in all corners. Some are wandering while most have gathered into groups to reminisce. There are those that you recognize and those whose faces have long faded in your memories.

High school. A time of pubescent years, of growing up and trying to prove yourselves while figuring out your future. You have mixed feelings about that time. All you know is that you’re glad it’s over.

“Y/N?” There’s a higher pitched voice to the left and you turn to see Tiffany approaching with a wide smile. “Hoseok?! Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys! How are you?”

You hug her for a second. “It’s good. You?”

“Yeah.” She exhales as if she can’t believe you’re together again and you admit, it is surreal. There was definitely a difference from glancing at someone’s post, status and updates on social media and seeing them in person. “It’s been great. I didn’t know if you were coming to this reunion or not.”

You smile, glancing at Hoseok. He was right about coming. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Someone walks by with a tray of cheap champagne and all three of you take a glass, thanking the waiter. Tiffany sips her drink and gets down to the nitty-gritty. “So tell me, what do you do now?”

You brace yourself, knowing this was coming. “I’m working as an embryologist at a fertility lab.”

“That’s so cool!” Her eyes widen and she genuinely appears fascinated. “It sounds super fancy.”

You laugh, concealing the note of awkwardness in your voice. Tiffany doesn’t know that it sounds much better than it actually is. It’s an entire step down from being a family doctor, an occupation which you once said was your dream. And she has no clue that you’re struggling under your strict manager, that you just received a cut in pay and your hours are strenuous.

But you don’t dare show your exhaustion. Or your discontentment.

You keep flashing a bright smile.

Everyone in high school expected you to do great, that you would go somewhere, do something. You were the smart one. The hard-working one. There’s always been a certain burden of expectations on your shoulders from your parents to your teachers, and perhaps that’s where the need to prove yourself to your former peers stems. If they knew how mundane and regular and normal you turned out — instead of being the successful achiever — you’re sure their disappointment would have a bigger effect on you more than you’d ever admit.

And maybe that’s why Hoseok offered to pretend to be your partner for the night after you grieved about not being with anyone, when you struggled to find a plus one. He knows you best after all.

“What are you doing?” you ask Tiffany, and she hesitates, looking down at her drink for a second.

“Actually, I’m in-between jobs at the moment.” She musters a smile. “The economy sucks right now.”

You sympathize. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard to find a job these days.”

Tiffany turns to Hoseok and when she asks what he’s been up to, he says, “Nothing much. I’m working in IT as a development manager for this company.”

“Oh, that’s super cool too!” She’s about to ask something, but then her eyes incidentally stray downwards. You follow her line of sight, realizing that she’s looking at the way you’re holding hands with Hoseok.

“We’re...actually dating now,” you explain.

Instantaneously, Tiffany brightens. “You guys started dating after high school? When?!”

You laugh awkwardly. “Two...three years ago?” It doesn’t sound terribly convincing, so you try a second time, standing your ground. “Two, I think.” It falls a bit short, but she doesn’t notice.

No. Tiffany absolutely gushes. “That’s so cute! Oh my god! I always thought you’d both be good together!”

That has you taken aback. The relief of getting away with your lie and not being caught gets overtaken by surprise. “Really?”

“Well yeah. You were always close friends and everyone,” she emphasizes the word by drawing it out, “knew Hoseok had a huge crush on you.”

This was news to you.

But Hoseok outright ignores your stare in favour of smiling at your old friend and holding up your interlaced hands by your heads as if it’s a trophy. “Well, looks like I got the girl in the end.”

“Are you gonna propose any time soon then?”

There’s a glint of mischief in Hoseok’s eye. “Maybe.”

He’s way too good at lying. You’re starting to get convinced this is real.

“Aw, I wish I was at this honeymoon stage again. Everything’s so sweet and cute.”

Speaking of which. “Where’s Nick?” you ask.

Tiffany deflates slightly at the question and you wonder if you said something wrong. You don’t understand until she says, “Oh….yeah...we decided to split up a few months ago.”

“Really?” You would’ve never expected it. From what you remember, they were one of the few high school sweethearts that actually made it in the long run, a couple that you used to be jealous of at sixteen. They ended up getting married too and you saw pictures of them traveling together a year ago. Who knew what her life was actually like behind the scenes. “I’m...so sorry, Tiffany.”

“It’s alright. Life happens, I guess, but it all worked out in the end and we both have joined custody of Sunny. It gets messy sometimes but as long as she’s happy, I am too.” She smiles softly and then nods. “Well, it was really nice to catch up with you two. I’m happy to hear you’re going out. Better put a ring on this one before you lose her, Jung.”

“I will,” he promises.

Tiffany leaves to catch up with a girl she knew from choir, so you both bid your goodbyes. But somehow, the conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

After greeting a few more old friends and acquaintances, you leave to the hallway.

The nostalgia slams into you, stronger than before. If you stare long enough, you can picture the hall crammed with your classmates, how you ran from class to class, sat in the desks, bored out of your mind and at times, stressed. The walls and rooms hold so many of your memories without them knowing. And that in itself makes you feel old and gray, even though you aren’t.

Not yet, at least. Hoseok always reassures you that you have another good thirty years before you’re allowed to call yourself old.

Said man glances at your expression and reads it like an open book. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sigh. “It’s just….I don’t know. I was trying to save face this entire time and I even went as far as to lie about our relationship.”

“You didn’t do it alone. I lied too.”

“Yeah, but I wanted this.” You shake your head, slowly rounding a corner and making your way down what you remember as the science corridor. “People probably have more going on with themselves than to care what I’m up to. I don’t know why I was so scared about what they would think about me.”

The corner of his mouth curls, and he nudges you with his elbow. “It’s high school.”

You lightly scoff but a smile tickles at your lips. “I just feel bad. Tiffany was so honest about herself, and she wasn’t ashamed about how her life turned out, not like I am.”

“No one turned out how they expected themselves to,” he hums in a thoughtful tone while glancing at the bulletin board tacked with handmade flyers for clubs. “It’s okay if you didn’t end saving the planet or finding the cure to cancer.”

You snort and soften. “Yeah.”

Hoseok always knows what to say to make you feel better.

“Look!” The peaceful moment is interrupted by the sheer volume of his voice. He points down the hall. “Our old lockers!”

You laugh, quickening your steps with his. The lockers are not technically yours anymore, they haven’t been for a long time and have probably been through tens of students since. Even right now, there are unfamiliar locks that keep them closed. But you still remember which one was yours.

You stand in front of it and Hoseok stands in front of his which is only three lockers down from yours.

The pair of you look at one another, exchanging grins. “Remember when I kept your math textbook for you since you were too lazy to put it away and we had to toss it to each other every morning?”

“Yeah. I never missed once.” He laughs and it’s a bubbly sound that’s exactly the same as back then. “Remember that time Taehyung stuffed himself inside my locker and we locked him in?”

You burst out laughing. “We almost got into trouble by Mr. Min!”

“Yep. That old man was always trying to pick on kids.”

“Except for that time Jimin launched that cake across the hall and it landed on some poor girl. He was nowhere to be found.”

Hoseok grins and comes over to lean on the blue locker next to yours, crossing his arms like he’s waiting for you before you’re late for the bell.

A sentimental feeling that is both wistful and happy washes you over again. You can recall those years as if they were yesterday. Namely, Hoseok would always be there when you closed your locker door, in the exact same position, staring at you with that identical warm expression. You don’t know a lot of your old high school friends anymore, don’t know what they’re doing or if they’ll come. It’s a natural progression of life, of going different paths and naturally drifting apart.

But Hoseok has always been your side. Since then till now.

“So.” You turn to him. “What’s this about everyone knowing you had a crush on me?”

Hoseok goes wide-eyed and says nothing for a moment. Then he scratches the back of his neck. “Just stupid kid stuff.”

You raise a brow and hum. “Didn’t sound like stupid kid stuff. How long did you even like me for?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m curious.” You shrug. “I never heard about this before.”

Hoseok is embarrassed, that much is obvious. You can tell by the way he’s brushing around the subject, not looking you in the eyes, how much he’s hesitating. It’s not like him and that makes you even more intrigued. “A while.”

Maybe you shouldn’t push him so much when he doesn’t want to talk about it. But for some reason, there’s a burning desire inside of you to know. After all, you thought you knew all of your best friend’s secrets.

“What’s a while?”

“Like sixth grade?”

Your jaw drops. “So when we met?”

“Yeah..?” Hoseok seems unsure and he’s staring at the other wall as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. There’s nothing but a dirty shoe print on it. “Something like that.”

Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. Although, for an entirely different kind of reason. “But why?”

He turns his head, as if sensing you’re about to self-deprecate yourself. “You’re funny and smart and pretty, Y/N. Everyone liked you,” Hoseok explains it as if it’s factual and your cheeks grow warm.

You suck in your cheek, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me you liked me?”

“I was awkward and I was too scared you’d reject me,” he exhales and you glance at him to find an unreadable expression. Perhaps he’s uncomfortable at the idea now that he’s grown out of it and he knows you too well. Or maybe...just maybe...he’s filled with regret.

You shake off the thought before your imagination runs wild.

You’re about to drop the subject once and for all, but as you turn away, the quiet mutter slips from your mouth, “I wouldn’t have.”

Hoseok catches it.

He freezes completely and when you realize he’s not following you back to the gymnasium, you turn around. “Earth to Hoseok. What’s wrong?”

“What about now?”

“What?”

His expression is blank aside from the slight furrow of his brow. It’s not often Hoseok’s entirely serious and you’re caught off guard by his demeanour. He closes the distance in three strides and asks, “If I asked you out now, if I said I wanted to date you for real, would you reject me?”

His gaze is dark. Intense. As if he’s mustered up the courage he’s built for years for this very moment.

Your mouth opens, eyes unable to look away from him and your voice pipes out a timid— “no.”

In an instant, Hoseok’s mouth is on yours. Your back slams against the lockers as he cradles your cheeks in his palms, tilting his head to capture your lips carefully yet eagerly. You whine in his grasps and quickly reciprocate, moving your mouth against his. It’s soft, warm and comforting. Hoseok has always been comforting to you. A slow burn rather than a bursting firework that eventually fades away. A warm bonfire that’s built from the first spark rather than a forest wildfire that ultimately burns out after consuming everything.

You’ve always loved him. But perhaps it wasn’t always purely platonic like you thought. At least not until tonight where that’s been challenged.

Hoseok's body is firm and warm against yours. His knee is placed between your thighs and you loop your arms around his neck to get him even closer. Your senses are filled with his cologne, the lingering scent of his shaving cream and shampoo. Hoseok tastes like the champagne he drank and you’re beginning to feel dizzy from it. That or you’re running out of breath.

You whimper rather pathetically, but he doesn’t let up. Not until you push at his shoulder and he has to gather his self-restraint to part from you.

You’re left panting heavily against him, lips swollen and Hoseok exhales before laughing. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

You grin. “Always?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Practically.”

Never would you have thought Hoseok would kiss you against your lockers. It’s another memory you’re making in these walls even after years of graduating. But you’d like a second time to make up for all the others, so you start to tug Hoseok’s tie to get him closer again—

“Hey!”

There’s an ear-splitting shout and the two of you flinch, whirling around to the end of the hall.

“You’re supposed to be in the gymnasium!” Old man Mr. Min is bumbling towards you with a cane, his voice surprisingly still full of power even when he looks like a sack of bones.

“Sorry!” You duck your head and before he can catch you, your hand entwines with Hoseok’s. The two of you dash down the hall as if you were still trouble-making high-schoolers.

Hoseok mutters in complete shock, “He’s still alive?!”

And you laugh, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter.

You return to the reunion and your heart is a bit lighter knowing this time, you don’t have to lie.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #hoseok reader insert #hoseok x reader #Jimlings #Anonymous

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honeypirate · 3 years ago

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In Madness lies Sanity

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader - College AU

Based off the bit by Allan Watts. I read the transcript and I thought— Ushijima in love with his best friend listening to this talk about love in one of his classes and realizing that he needs to tell them the truth. Allan watts bit is in blue, the fic is in white.

Ushijima wasn’t one to dwell too long on trivial matters. He works through them and then forgets them. He focuses on what is important and what will bring him closer to his desired future. He isn’t one who is sucked into madness and drama, he has a strong level head and it’s something he takes pride in. So he’s trying to apply his ideas to how he handles his feelings for you, is it trivial? Is it important to tell you? He was struggling before he walked into class Monday morning and had his eyes opened by the video played during lecture.

- I’m going to talk to you about a particularly virulent and dangerous form of divine madness which is called falling in love. Which is, from a practical point of view, one of the most insane things you can do, or that can happen to you. Because in the eyes of a given woman or a given man, an opposite who go to the eyes of everybody else a perfectly plain and ordinary person can appear to be God or Goddess incarnate .... And this is an extraordinary disruptive experience a subversive experience in the conduct of human affairs

You were never a plain and ordinary person to him and he believes that’s where it got confused. He always has and always will see you as an extraordinary individual, regardless of things that may be seen as flaws or imperfections, regardless of your mistakes. You didn’t transform from one thing to the next, you were the same angel he knew, so when his heart flipped from friendship to love, he wasn’t paying attention.

- Because you never know when it will strike off for what reason. It’s something like contracting a very chronic disease once you get into it

If anyone asked Ushijima who his best friend is his first thought is you. His first thought thought is always you. His constant. His true best friend who is there for him through anything. He’ll open his mouth and say “y/n is my best friend” and when people would point out just how close they are he just shrugged, weren’t friends supposed to be close?

When he thinks back now, now that his feelings are obvious, he realizes that it was just a matter of time until he fell in love with you. He can pinpoint every moment along his life where love was obvious, every joke and hug that at the time he thought was just nice, when he loaned you his sweatshirt and then didn’t wash it because it smelled like you. When he would spend all his valuable and limited free time with you just because he liked the way you would smile as he walked you home. He thinks back to all of his dates in high school and college, of the dating app conversations he’s had or blind dates his friends had set up, and they all failed because of one simple reason- none of them were you.

- I would like to make some reflections on this particular form of madness, and to raise again a very disturbing question. And this disturbing question is as follows: Is it only when you are in love with another person that you see them as they really are? And in the ordinary way, when you are not in love with people you see only a fragmented version of that being.

He’s spent hours turned to days to weeks as he keeps thinking about whether or not he loves you or if he just thinks he could because of how close you already are. He’s lost track of time connecting different dots and making different lists and theories, replaying you’re entire friendship back in his head. He’s thought about the times he saw you drunk in college and puking on his shoes as he helps you home, when you decided you wanted to try and longboard and turfed it so bad your arm was gashed from wrist to elbow and he had carried you to the urgent care. all your reckless and crazy ideas you dragged him along with, you were almost as bad as tendou but he just wanted to take care of you as best as he could. He can feel the desire in his bones to make sure you were always taken care of, a feeling he knows he’ll have until he dies.

He thinks about when you had dated Oikawa and for the entire three months he had an ulcer but didn’t know why. He thought it was because of his pain relievers and quit them the week you broke up with him, not realizing the connection. When he’d get acid in his throat when you talked about dating someone else, he thought he just needed some milk. How blind he had been.

-Because when you are in love with someone you do indeed see them as a divine being. And suppose that’s what they are truly. And your eyes have by your beloved been opened in which case your beloved is serving to you as a kind of guru. An initiator. And that is why there is a form of sexual yoga, based on the idea that man and woman are to each other as mutual guru and student. And through a tremendous outpouring of psychic energy in total devotion and worship to this other person who is respectively the goddess of the god.

Being someone’s best and closest friend consisted of seeing their entirety and choosing to stay and love them anyway. To care for them. He can’t say for certain where he crossed over into love, into wanting to hug you and kiss you, wanting to be the only one you think about, but there’s not much he can do about it now and he doesn’t want to.

Ushijima sees you. He sees your good and your bad and everything in between, he sees you for you. Your ordinary mundane ways of life that he can’t help but want to share with you. Grocery shopping, library trips, post office runs, he wants them all to be done with you. He truly cannot imagine anyone else taking that spot in his heart.

Wanting to show you what he sees. What he knows to be true about you. he wants to scream from the rooftops how amazing you are and he’s not a very loud person. He sees the way you care for your friends selflessly and give and give all you have just so that others can be happy and you never complain. You do what you can when you can and still have time to take care of yourself he never knew how you did it so effortlessly, even when you’d vent to him you never regretted helping others.

He sees the way you lift up those around you. How you leave everyone a little more positive than before you talked to them. He doesn’t know how you do it. He’s convinced you’re an angel and he’s dying to show you just how amazing he knows you are. But he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship. He sees your entirety, your full book instead of just the cover, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted to give you this energy and receive it in turn and he’s never been so absolutely terrified.

-You realize by total fusion and contact with the other organism. You go down to the divine center in them and it bounces back and you discover your own or you could put it in this way which is another aspect of it that by falling in love and regarding falling in love not just as a sort of sexual infatuation, because it’s always more than that, isn’t it. I mean you can have a great sexual enjoyment with a pleasant friend, you know. But you may do so simply because he or she appeals to your aesthetic senses. But when you fall in love, it’s a much more serious involvement, you just cannot forget this person. You feel miserable when not in their presence, you’re always yearning, that’s get to see more of each other let’s get together that’s we’re completely entangled and then you see you’ve actually kind of out what I would call spiritual element has been introduced. And the Hindus were sensible enough to realize that this was a means of awakening, enlightenment, and therefore it was. Surrounded. With a sort of rigid religious ritual meditative art, with a form of sexual yoga that is designed to allow the feeling of mutual love to the extent of grand passion to have an extremely fitting fulfillment and expression.

Ushijima has always thought you were beautiful. Any human with eyes would think that. But your beauty and attraction went far deeper than that. Sure he’s had fleeting thoughts about how good you looked in a dress but he never let them linger. It felt wrong to think of you like that. But now that he’s an adult, a grown man and not a teenager anymore, he wants to kiss you, to hold your hand, maybe more but it wasn’t about that. It was about the intimacy, the closeness, the vulnerability.

Awakening. Enlightenment. Two words that before he didn’t really think about. But now he feels changed. Now that he’s realized how much he loves you has lifted his spirits, made him dream of the passion and happiness you could have together. He feels himself slipping into the joy of being in love with his best friend and imagining all the ways that love could grow. He feels only half of himself when he’s without you, always needing to see you or be around you, but you never made him feel clingy or bad. You met him in kind, telling him how much you wanted to be around him too.

At first he thought that this love was a trivial thing, something he could push from his mind, but after his weeks of thought he knows this is a lot more serious than he’s experienced before.

-Falling in love is a thing that strikes like lightning and is therefore extremely analogous to the mystical vision. We don’t know. No how really people attain the mystical vision. There is not as yet a very clear rationale as to how it happens because we do know that it is opened to many people who never did anything to look for it. And many people especially in adolescence have had the mystical vision all of a sudden without the slightest warning and with no previous interest in that kind of thing

He remembers what he was doing when it dawned on him that he was in love, when he felt the air leave his lungs and his eyes widen softly when he realized how nice it would be to kiss your temple and he couldn’t even finish the thought as the feeling ran from his head to his toes.

He was standing in your kitchen as you finished making your lunch for the following day and you made a joke that made yourself laugh, he didn’t think it was a very funny joke but you didn’t care. You giggled to yourself and he couldn’t help but wish he could witness that forever. It hit him like a brick that he would, in almost an instant, give his entirety to you. It terrified him when he imagines you and him ending like his parents. But behind the terror, the fear of divorce, was a softer and quieter emotion that he tried to focus on harder than the insanity of his anxiety. A softer, lovelier, hopeful feeling that he usually gets every time you smile at him. That was the feeling he was searching for, everything else was irrelevant for a few glorious moments.

-But as yet we are not clear as to why it comes about and if there is any method of attaining it the best one is probably to give up the whole idea of getting it…. you see it is completely unpredictable and so it is in that way like falling in love, capricious and therefore crazy. But if you should be so fortunate as to encounter either of these experiences. It seems to me to be a total denial of life to refuse it. And what we therefore have to. Admit in our society is so that we can contain this kind of madness.

He called Tendou that evening, telling him that he thinks he loves you, and Tendou about had a conniption. He was in Paris as his best friend fell in love for the first time. He talked him through it, told him how good it can be. That yes it was going to be work but the reward would be worth it. To not sell himself short out of his own fears. He deserves much more than that. Tendou’s last phrase is what sunk in deep “I know it was unpredictable, that it feels so fickle, but that’s what love is like buddy! You can’t deny it Ushi, you can’t run from it or hide from it, it will only hurt you in the long run”

- You see, in this way we can think about and structure the necessary stable social institution of family sometime without it being constantly threatened of foundering on the rocks of love. Now you see this then means that when when people marry they take any vows at all to each other instead of saying that they will always be true to each other in the sense of meaning I Will Always Love YoU, It means I will be true to you in the sense of I will always be truthful to. I will not pretend that my feelings towards you ARE other than what they are. Because I marry you, because I think that you are a reasonable person to live with and therefore I want you to be you I want you to be someone else I want to be a rubber stamp of me–how boring that would be?! an arrangement in which people set each other free and make an alliance to cooperate with each other in certain ways. Now if it should so occur that they are of immense sexual attraction to each other, so much the better? That this should not be a primary factor in entering into marriage. Admittedly, you must be to a certain extent attractive to each other otherwise there will be no progeny. But this is this is seems to me to be a sensible and reasonable view and just because it is sensible and reasonable it can accommodate what is not sensible and reasonable which is falling in love.

Ushijima is terrified. He’s terrified because the instant immediate joy he felt when he realized he loved you was almost overtaken by worries and stress. He loves you! Now what? He loves structure in his life and he values stability but he knows how rocky relationships can be and how they can ultimately end. He knows he won’t deny it, he won’t back away because of his fear but he needs a plan. A plan to take to you and talk about it, he knows you’ll have the right thing to say but he doesn’t even know what he’ll even say to you yet. He loves that you are so carefree and goofy, a breath of fresh air to his stoicism. You’ve even gently worked your way so deep into his soul that you feel like his other half, his complete other in every way, someone who wasn’t like him at all and how wonderful that is.

Once in his life he thought that arranged marriages were smarter, you did it out of logic and bloodline and family, nothing messy to deal with. But that structure, that boring empty rocky foundation that an arrangement might bring made his mouth taste bad, although at the time he convinced himself it was because it would be more like another job that takes up his time (away from you)

Sensible and reasonable was right up his alley, he thought how nice it would be to have a mini him but he couldn’t think about having that with anyone. He couldn’t think of another half of dna that baby would share that would make it worth it. Not until he saw a picture of you holding your nephew, now whenever he thinks of his babies they share your genes. He thinks of a chunky baby with your eyes and his hair color, a mix of your personality and he’d share volleyball with them. He’s never wanted kids as much as he does when he thinks about sharing them with you. And that’s the part that feels senseless, the love part, the part where you give your entirety to someone and trust that they will care and keep you, no matter what happens, save its not infidelity or other deal breakers of yours he already knows.

Ushijima’s theorizing and thoughts about you over the course of time went from being about understanding why he feels like this to imagining fake scenarios where he wants to take you abroad to travel together, to be together every day and share the hard times and good times, babies or not, marriage or not. He just wants to make you happy for the rest of his life no matter what and he can’t go on much longer without knowing he has a chance to do so

- Well now really when we go back then to falling in love. And say it’s crazy falling. You see we don’t say rising into love. There is in it the idea of the fall. And it is goes back as a matter of fact two extremely fundamental things that there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk, is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble

And so here he was. Sitting on a bench outside of your dorm, feet bouncing as he stared at the small patch of grass growing in between the sidewalk crack. It’s been a while since that class and he’s been thinking about this constantly.

He knows the risk, feels it in his heart every time he meets up separately with his parents since their divorce. He sees it every time he remembers his childhood and the messy separation. That mess he never wants to repeat. The fall that comes with this love is like that class video had told him, ghastly. He doesn’t know if this could ruin it all, if he takes the leap of faith and it all comes crumbling down years later he’ll be just another divorce. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to end up like his parents and have a child who feels the same. But when he imagines his life he doesn’t think he could be haply without you by his side.

- the moment you take a step, you do so on an act of faith, because you don’t really know that the floors not going to give in to your feet. The moment you take a journey what an act of faith. The moment you enter into any kind of human undertaking in relationship what an act of faith you see you’ve given yourself up. But this is the most powerful thing that can be done surrender see and love is an act of surrender to another person. Total abandonment. I give myself to you. Take me, do anything you like with me. So, that’s quite mad because you see it’s letting things get out of control all sensible people keep things in control.

You know something is up the moment you open the doors and see his back on the bench. You were going to his place since he wasn’t answering his phone, you freeze at the doors at watch him for a moment as your anxiety spikes in your stomach. His shoulders are tense as he leans forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together as he looks down between his bouncing feet. Before you really think about it, you follow the urge to comfort him, to talk to him and make sure it’s all okay. Your feet carry you quickly to his side and you sit down, pulling him into a side hug and wrapping your arms around him.

He gasps when you sit and as you’re wrapping your arms around him he furrows his brows and hugs you back. His heart racing As his fears take the back burner. He didn’t expect you to find him but he also didn’t know how long he’s been sitting here. He buries his face into your neck as he you hold each other in the cool spring evening.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you hold him and feels his walls break down, his arms tighten around you

“I’m scared” he says quietly and his voice cracks

“Of what Toshi? You can always talk to me” Your fingers run through his hair softly and it soothes his nerves.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, his eyebrows were still furrowed and his stoic expression was broken by his eyes that were swimming with worry and insecurity.

You saw everything in his eyes and you met him with your determination and steady unwavering love he finds in your eyes. God he feels so mad. So incredibly and undeniably mad and insane and like he isn’t in control. He needs to tell you. Needs the words to come out of his throat so he can calm his heart and soothe his ulcer. The anxiety felt like it was immeasurable and his breathing was starting to get faster until you placed your hands on his cheeks, smothering the bad feelings completely “it’s okay Wakatoshi, I’m right here”

Ushijima feels the exact moment his heart relaxes into the faith, the surrender into love trusting that the floor isn’t going to collapse under his feet, the moment he gives his whole self, body and soul, to the fall, and that moment was when your lips touched his for the first time. Then he let go, the madness left his body and was replaced with a calm assurance that yes, yes this was it, what he’s been waiting for, what he’s been yearning for.

- for all the cost and wisdom what is really sensible is to let go that is to commit oneself to give oneself up and that’s quite mad,

-so we come to the strange conclusion that in madness lies sanity.

#ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #haikyuu xreader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu ushiwaka #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu wakatoshi #wakatoshi fluff #ushijima fluff #ushijima fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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Day 27, Post #2 by @booksforevermore13

Author: @booksforevermore13

Summary:

"Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough."

Ginny’s spent the last two hours alone in a coffee shop. Luckily, a handsome stranger steps in

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Prompt:

Meet-cute

Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

...

“Sorry I’m so late love, traffic is crazy right now,” he said loudly, overly loud to be called normal. Ginny looked around, sure the entire cafe could hear him from where he was standing. Not to mention he was an unnaturally handsome man, and men like that tend to grab a lot of attention in a coffee shop.

Did she mention she had never seen him before?

Ginny watched him glance around and glare at a man staring at them, then bend down towards her. She almost automatically leaned away from him, and in all likelihood, she supposed he could see that she was uncomfortable, for he made sure to keep a safe distance between them.

Somehow, she felt that he was going to do that anyway.

“I’m Harry, just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn’t bother to show up is a git.”

Ginny frowned, dawning on her that this man she’d never seen in her life, who could essentially be a serial killer for all she cared, was trying to save her from the embarrassment that would follow when she got up after her two hour long wait in solitude.

Okay, fine.

She lied.

Her boyfriend, no, she’d not considered him one for months now, but anyway, the git stood her up. Technically, he’d always been a git, but she’d thought he’d have the least decency to at least call.

Not that she hadn’t suffered the quiet glances enough, but she particularly didn’t want to see the pity that followed her when she got up to leave.

The self-respecting part of her wouldn’t have waited after the fifteen-minute mark, but she’d stuck around for the sole purpose of being miserable, because there really wasn’t anything else to do. And of course, for the hope that when and if he finally showed up, she’d enjoy giving him a piece of her mind. In the middle of the damn shop.

So, Ginny couldn’t help but smile for the first time that evening, because whoever this stranger was, he was doing a damn good job at turning her evening around.

She watched as he looked around the cafe, and pulled out the chair opposite her, stumbling while trying to sit. He didn’t make eye contact, but when he did, Ginny very nearly was taken aback by the dark green of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t have sat here hadn’t it been for the - “

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

This close, she could see a lighter green coronary around his iris and try as she did, Ginny couldn’t help the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him, and though she was glad he did, she was slightly embarrassed he had had to.

“Sure I did,” he replied while grinning, and it was one of those grins which were infectious enough to make even the likes of her smile. With one hand, she watched as he brushed his hair back, a few strands still over his eyes and Ginny struggled to keep the red away as their eyes met.

“I’m Ginny,” she said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, and Ginny, for a second there, was overcome with how much of a gentleman he was. Surprisingly enough, she found herself knowing the meaning behind the word, the first time she’d happened to do so, for Michael had been everything but.

“You know,” she shrugged, “if you want, you can walk out right now, right now, and you don’t need to—”

“Why do you assume I want to leave?”

Ginny blinked, taken aback by the interruption. “I just thought,” she stuttered, “you’d, I’d- I just thought you did this out of pity, which is what is expected but —”

“I didn’t...”

“I don’t need it,”she continued, “trust me, I am well aware the person who left me hanging was a git but — hang on, what?”

And Harry laughed, ducking his head, and Ginny felt like she was eleven all over again, blushing at the slightest laugh, riling up at the smallest comment, her hormones all over the place.

“I’m not doing this out of pity,” Harry said, and then he blushed, much to her surprise, red spreading down his neck, and cheeks. “I did this because, I, uhh,” he fumbled for words, and became even more flustered as Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s nothing actually.”

“But?”

“You’re beautiful.”

She laughed at that, relaxing into her seat, enjoying how he’d riled up at that, his face completely red.

For the first time that day, let herself relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. Was it relief or all of her pent up emotions at once? She didn’t know, but all she’d felt for the last few hours had been anger, annoyance, hurt, though the latter she refused to admit. She could only feel so much at once, she knew that, yet Michael had only added to her troubles and Ginny had let him.

She hated herself for that.

A moment later, she spoke up again, leaning towards Harry, still enjoying how he got all flustered by her words. Clearly, he wasn’t as smooth as she thought he had been.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Who’s that girl sitting back there,” she gestured, “the one who’s been looking at us for the last few minutes from over her menu?

Harry whirled around, and then started chuckling. The girl in question dropped down again, and Harry turned back.

“That’s Hermione,” he said. “She’s my sister, friend,” he rubbed his neck again, “best friend.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Ginny had sat through Luna’s entire date with Rolf, she really couldn’t comment on it.

A moment later, Harry spoke up again, as if he’d thought of something important and wanted to get it out of the system. “Can I ask you something?” he said, repeating her words from before.

She smiled, sitting back in her seat. “Fire on.”

“I think now would be a good time to order something,” he said quietly. “That waitress over there has been giving us the stink-eye since before I sat here.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Harry nodded.

“She’s been doing that since the last two hours.”

He started laughing again, ducking his head again, and Ginny joined him, shaking her head in disbelief. She was still having a hard time believing that she was this relaxed around a complete stranger when she couldn’t even be this close with her family.

Nevertheless, she called the woman over here, who introduced herself yet again as Alicia, and then proceeded to rip their orders down in her notepad, stalking away afterwards. When she disappeared behind the counter again, Harry looked at her again, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What’d you do to rile her up like that?”

Ginny grinned, returning his look. “I don’t blame her, really,” she said and chuckled, “if I was the one with a customer sitting for two hours straight without even drinking one measly coffee, I would have done more than glare.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

Ginny looked at him, an eyebrow arched. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she teased and Harry scoffed.

“Not even close. I’m trying to, though I don’t think I ever will.”

“Good that.”

Behind him she saw the girl, Hermione, get up, and as Harry followed her gaze and turned, the girl looked at him, and smiled in reassurance, leaving a dollar note on the table and leaving.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s the one, now you be honest, she’s the one who pushed you to meet me, isn’t she?”

He had a sheepish look on his face as he shrugged, and Ginny threw her head back in laughter.

“How did you figure that one out?”

“You’re not as smooth as you think,” she teased, and Harry winced again, ducking his head as he smiled, and Ginny was glad she wasn’t the only one in their interaction behaving like a complete tween.

She took her time, observing him as the silence came after. It felt….comfortable, sitting with him, joking with him. There was a particular ease between them, one she hadn’t failed to notice, one she hadn’t shared with Michael or anyone she’d dated before.

He was handsome, Harry, with his lopsided glasses, and his green eyes sparkling behind them. If she could be so poetic herself, she’d have described it as a storm brewing in his eyes, the green of the forest across her house.

But she hadn’t failed to notice how it was slightly odd that he’d been here at the same time as she, and it was weird because it was a Monday, the busiest day of the week. He wasn’t an athlete, no athlete could be this charming and this flustered at the same time, and she didn’t know any other professions where they had a day off on Monday.

“What were you doing here?” she asked suddenly, and then winced, wondering if her question had been a bit too forward.

But Harry only shrugged. “Nothing of importance, really. I had a day off, so I decided to get out of the house for a change.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she replied. It was quite a mundane reason, nothing like she’d imagined. Nevertheless, she didn’t push him, didn’t ask for details, though that was partly because she knew it wasn’t her place. But over the years, with Michael and Dean and every other bloke she’d been with, constantly nagging her for details, where she’d been, whom she’d been with, why she’d been there with whomever she’d been with, that she knew better.

And she had a strong feeling that Harry appreciated it too.

When their eyes met again, she couldn’t help but smile. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again, and then leaned forward slightly.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, and it was, if she could be so honest (a trait she didn’t possess) concerning that the very first thing Ginny thought was how much of a damn charmer he was and the second: she couldn’t wait to tell Luna.

Not for the first time, she found herself thinking she needed to get a life.

Ginny shrugged. “You’re the one with the plan. I do whatever seems fun at the moment.”

“And what exactly seems fun here right now?”

She looked around, giving a once-over of the place before shaking her head, shrugging.

“Nothing, nada. This is a most literal garbage dump.”

“Then how about we just talk?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, as if contemplating the great mysteries of the universe, before they burst out laughing, her eyes glinting with anticipation. It had been long since she’d felt this, this ridiculous fluttering in her stomach, this tingling she felt every time their fingers brushed together.

God, they were like two giggling teenagers. No wonder everyone was looking at them.

When she checked her watch under the table, it was six in the evening, and night was setting fast, their surroundings already a dusky blue. The door of the coffee shop was open, and every other minute, a huge gust of wind blew in, cool against the summer sun. Other than the two of them, there were only three other people in the shop, and one was just about to leave.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ginny smiled.

“You play for the London Dragons?”

She frowned, slightly taken aback by how he knew that piece of information before he pointed out her jacket.

“Oh,” she chuckled drily. “Yeah, I do. It’s my last year in college.”

“I see.”

Consciously, she tugged her sleeves down, clearing her throat in earnest. One minute she wanted to twirl around the cafe twice, giddy with excitement, and the other she wanted to jump twice in her chair in fear and anticipation.

Michael hadn’t been good for her emotions.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “My turn.” She cleared her throat, and Harry raised an eyebrow, to which she wiggled hers.

“Wh…. do you, um, do that?” She asked.

He looked at her in confusion, a slight smile playing on his face. He was adorable, and Ginny was having a hard time keeping herself from smiling too much.

“Do what?”

“This, when you laugh, you duck your head. Why do you do that?”

“I…..uh, I have no idea. It’s habit, I guess.”

“I see.”

They both solemnly looked at each, and then shared a smile, Ginny still feeling quite tingly in her fingers when they touched his. The couple sitting a few chairs away from them shot them a look, after which they had to shut down their sneaky-glancing contest, but that didn’t last long.

“So,” Harry shot her a mirthful smile, “tell me something about yourself.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You save me from a dateless evening and now, you’re letting me talk about myself? Seems like I should be glad I was abandoned.”

“I think you should be more impressed by the fact that I know nothing about you.”

“And why is that?”

“So the chances of me mansplaining are next to none.”

Ginny laughed, sitting up straight in her chair. She folded her hands and looked at him. “Okay, one,” she started, “I, uhh...have six brothers, older, mind you and all of them are dolts of the highest calibre. Two, I have a dog, named Daisy, she’s a Husky, and the one being I love most in the world, and three, I am currently…. single.”

“Three things?”

“It’s your turn now.”

Harry laughed, and then copied her as he too, sat himself in the same position, his hands on the table, fingers drumming to a noiseless tune. “One, I have no siblings,” he clicked his tongue, and then continued. “Two, I….uh, I am an officer in Scotland Yard, under training though,” he said hurriedly as she looked at him in surprise, “and three, I’m twenty three, and single.”

She smirked, sitting back, satisfied, and trying to ignore the fact that he was single too (and failing miserably). “I didn’t know we had an officer in our midst,” she said.

“Under training.”

“Ah, well, potato, potahto.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation, and they sat up as Alicia, the waitress came to their table, holding their order, which she, by all accounts, slammed onto the table.

“Oh well, she’s a pleasant one,” Harry muttered and Ginny smiled into her coffee.

She blew on it and took a sip, before blatantly making a face. “Oh,” she put her coffee down. “That-that’s not good at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s bitter. It’s very bitter.”

“Oh,” Harry passed her a sugar packet, one which she graciously ripped open, dumping it’s contents into her coffee, stirring it, as she looked up at him.

“Can I ask you something?” Ginny gestured at his hair, and consciously, he ran his hand over it, as if he knew what she was talking about.

“What’s,” she hesitated, “that scar under your…your hair?”

She knew she’d messed up at that, for his eyes hardened, and he looked down at his plate. It was clearly a painful subject for him, one he wished to keep private and Ginny felt herself thinking she should have kept herself shut.

“I was in an accident,” he explained as their eyes met and Ginny nodded hurriedly, not asking more. She looked away, though she could feel his gaze on her long after she had turned.

“I have a feeling you want to ask something,” she smiled, and Harry nodded as he shifted in his seat.

“He, the person who didn’t show up,” he started, “he didn’t call?”

“No,” she replied sharply, before sighing. It was an awfully personal question, but she felt he deserved at least an explanation for why he had had to step in as her faux. “Michael, the boy, the git, and I,” she clicked her tongue, “well, we are too far gone to do something like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry said quietly and Ginny shrugged. She’d never broached the subject before, her and Michael’s relationship, if she could even call it one, partly because she hadn’t bothered, and partly because she didn’t know what to feel about it.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I overstepped, I’m sorry”

“No that’s alright,” she said, and waved her hands haphazardly around as if they could prove her point. “I mean we were broken up long before this. Four months, actually. This was basically grasping at needles in a haystack.”

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Why didn’t you break up then?” Harry asked and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. If she had figured that one out, she’d have put an end to this long since.

“I’m a bad girlfriend,” she chuckled drily. “He’s a bad boyfriend. We deserved each other.”

Harry didn’t ask more.

It was a few long minutes before either of them spoke. Her brain was completely blank, one of those times where she didn’t say anything, didn’t think anything, just stared aimlessly at the sugar dissolving in her coffee.

“You know that gets me thinking,” she started, “why the hell did I date that jackass in the first place?” Ginny looked at him, a smile playing on her lips, and a need to make the conversation lighter. “The answer to that question— well, I don’t exactly know— but, well, maybe because we were attracted to each other,” she said, nodding mockingly.

“But then that gets you thinking. I am, for example and this is completely hypothetical, attracted to pie,” Harry raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile, “or this coffee for example, but that doesn’t mean I feel the need to date it.”

She looked at him, and he looked at her, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond, and just like that, they burst out laughing again, as if they hadn’t been talking about her sorry excuse for a love life the very other second.

“I think that neither of us are drunk enough for this conversation,” Harry said between chuckles and Ginny laughed harder.

They paused as Alicia, the waitress shushed them from behind the counter, and looked at each other, both of them struggling to keep the chuckles in.

In a fit, she sipped on her coffee, immediately regretting it as she coughed, spitting the coffee back in the mug again.

“This is worse,” she coughed, gulping the water in. “This is like mud. Like bitter mud and sugar.”

Harry looked at her, slightly concerned before he pushed his chair out and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “That’s it.”

Ginny frowned in confusion, as he pushed the chair back in, slightly disheartened by what he was doing, but he only smiled, holding out his hand for her.

“Care to join me?”

Ginny tilted her head, trying out those words in her head and then laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” she asked, and Harry looked at her, she was yet once again, captured breathless by his eyes on her.

“Anywhere but here,” he said, and Ginny felt her cheeks heating up.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me out on a date.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I literally just met you!” she exclaimed, chuckling in disbelief. Harry was still looking at her, and she found herself pausing, hesitating and then asking.

“How about, as two people who just met?”

“How about as friends?” Harry countered.

She shrugged, and then smirked. “Fair enough.”

So, when he offered his hand again, Ginny took it, and let him pull her up and as Harry smiled back at her with that grin of his, she couldn’t help but grin like that. In a moment of irony, she realised that had Michael not been a bad boyfriend and her, not the essential definition of the Mad Hatter, they would have never been standing here.

He let go of her hand as she stood up, though it lingered near hers long after he’d left it. Ginny didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, smiling, and both of them, completely ignorant of the fact that Alicia was now staring pointedly at them.

“Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you just turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough.”

...

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission

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rosaetae · 4 years ago

Text

spellbound to be | one

☇ “I don’t need to drink your blood to have my lips on your neck.”

[this is a part of tale of the purebloods] — prologue / one / two

➣ pairing: jungkook x reader

➣ genre: vampire!jungkook, fanatasy!au, soulmate!au, angst

➣ word count: 12.3k

➣ rating: pg-13

➣ synopsis: jeon jungkook is the cursed pureblood to have fallen in deep love with someone who was not his Complement. having to have fallen hard, he has to compensate with a life full of heartbreak and pain— one of which a burden weighs heavily on his shoulders. so much so, he hires a witch one day to reverse his inevitable Complement tie.

Bloodshed.

That is what derives from Witch Trial Week at Ember Academy— overly exaggerating, of course. A witch-made week established decades ago, the equivalence to Hell Week in the mundane world, but something your friend, Piper likes to call "Heaven Week" for her own musings.

Ember Academy's witches spend the week hexing, jinxing, cursing each other in the light of every October 31st, Halloween. There's no real motive behind it. Before, whoever was the last witch standing would be given special treatment, but in modern day, it was used as a tactic for the professors to oversee who would be a powerful witch, for some it was a mechanism to either get revenge or to let out one's anger. For you, it was always fun.

To your misfortune, you were at the short end of the stick, being clever and witty enough to be made part of Witch Trial Week, one of the notable witches that some would target, but unlike the rest of Ember Academy, you didn't grow up with the others. They all knew each other the day you stepped into the academy, looking and talking about you as if you were anything but one of them.

And it was true, you weren't fully one of them.

Growing up, you lived in the mundane world, surrounded by people who upheld no special abilities as those in the Upper World. Surely, you were no stranger to the realm of where your mother comes from, you coming home every day from primary school to your father, a human, and your mother, a full-fledged witch who gave up her immortality and her life in the Upper World for the sake of her Complement. You'd spend the day learning simple arithmetic, and after school, you'd come home to your mother teaching you simple, harmless charms.

It was a normal life growing up for you, your upbringing never straying too far from your roots. On some nights, your father put you to bed by telling you bedtime stories, on other nights, your mother would sing a lullaby of broken latin. You were convinced for awhile that it was your mother's soothing voice, but at a certain age when she stopped singing you to sleep, she exposed that it was a siren's song she learned from a friend in her hometown.

As a child, you'd constantly ask about the Upper World, having constant dreams about another worldly realm and a recurring figure holding their hand out for you. And the minute your finger grazes theirs, you awake. Not on your bed made of sea water and a ceiling made of glass, but in your normal New York apartment that had some crooked crevices on the ceiling, on your springy mattress with beige linen sheets. Although, despite your continuous desire to visit your mother's home world, your mother and father were very against world hopping.

However, due to your father's passing when you turned 14, there was no reason as to why your mother should keep you in the mundane world any longer if you didn't want to stay, and brought you to the Upper World of where your dreams of it had come to reality.

Entering Ember Academy, you could not fathom why your mother was so strict of you convincing yourself and everyone else around you that you are a full-fledged witch. And then you learn during one of the history classes that a hybrid witch that shares two worlds forbidden from each other was subjected to execution if entered the soil of the Upper World. You never understood why such a thing as your existence had such dire consequences, but that just made you more aware of your lies to everyone in the Upper World.

Your mother raised you believing that love shouldn't be forbidden, no matter the circumstances, even if that meant two different worlds. The mundane world was like that too. Star-crossed lovers consisting of Romeo and Juliet, Jack and Rose, Joel and Clementine, your own parents— they're all the epitome of what your mother likes to gush on and on about. And in hindsight, you are the product of it.

Due to your inability to grow up with the other witches, you had almost the entire academy against you for the past few years, especially on Witch Trial Week, only for this year to completely change that.

In the mundane world, sports like kickboxing was one of your favorites, and while there was no such thing as kickboxing in the Upper World, your main characteristic was that you like to play rough. A tug a war, a game of chess— this year, you were not holding back.

"Don't be so quick to be disappointed, Piper."

Piper, one of your only purely good friends at Ember Academy, watches you grind up dried lavender buds in a hard stone mortar and pestle, making a few grinds before running an index finger along an old page of your mother's book you took without her permission. She plops down onto her seat in front of you, her dark purple hair bouncing on her shoulders as she taps on her star glitters on her face. "It's Witch Trial Week, ___. That means I have to witch-proof all of my belongings because Rina and her damn fritter friends are going to pull a last year's move."

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad," you state, pouring the crushed up lavender into a glass bottle that had frog mucus and torn rose petals sitting inside about one fourth of the way. Piper doesn't question what you were up to, only continuing to voice out her frustrations.

"They cursed my assignments! You know how many extra credit assignments I had to do? 200 points gone because of this bloody witch-made week!"

Smirking, you peer up at her before standing up from your seat to grab a large jar of purple dragon drool on a shelf right behind you, before sitting back down, "calm down, I have plotted the perfect revenge."

"What?" Piper raises an eyebrow, her facial expression looking concerned. "Is that dragon drool?"

Opening up the jar, Piper makes a sour face when the aroma of a putrid, green whiff draws out of the jar, you having to stifle in a cough at the stench that made no warning traveling up your sinuses. Bringing your index finger and thumb to pinch your nose, you grab the small wooden serving spoon attached to the side of it and put two heeping spoonfuls of the dragon drool into your concoction before swiftly shutting the jar and finally being able to breathe again.

Piper lets out an exhale she's been holding in, staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for an answer that you were sort of stalling as you rip up a piece of paper. "I borrowed my mother's infamous dark magic book."

She gulps at the sound of that. "Dark magic?"

"Calm down, it's not that bad," you roll your eyes at her fear of using an area of magic that you were technically not supposed to touch upon— but you couldn't help it. It's dark magic, it's bound to be used somehow. "Just going to tease around with Rina's emotions a bit. We all know she's been trying to hit on Namjoon despite her Complement is Doyeon. I'm making a simple love potion for Namjoon to fall in love with Rina— only for the week though. She'll be a bit heartbroken at the end, but hey, she stained my uniform with troll's blood last year."

Jung Rina, daughter of Ember Academy's high priestess, who also adapts an attitude problem. She likes to taunt other witches from afar because of the power she gains from being the high priestess's daughter, cursing and jinxing others and acting as if it wasn't her— she gets away with it anyways. Unsure why, even when you do mind your own business, it's as if Rina has something against you— you confirmed this when even after Witch Trial Week, she wouldn't stop jinxing you.

Last year, she took your uniform while you were showering after with a game of shuntbumps, only to wear a uniform stained with a bright yellow color leaving a horrendous, pungent smell of troll's blood. It was one of the most talked about trick for the year, everyone bringing up the fact that Ms. Jung Rina was able to get her hands on troll's blood and use you as a target. A laughing stock, the black sheep— you've endured it for long enough.

"You're using dark magic! On the high priestess's daughter! That's—"

"Risky? I could care less." You finish for her, shrugging. You write down the template for the love spell that was written in high level latin, writing it carefully letter by letter. As your quill inks the paper, you look at a sweating Piper momentarily. "Stop worrying! If anything, you're guilty by association."

Piper places her hands over eyes and sighs. "I did not see anything."

"No, you didn't," you muse along with her as you place your quill back into its holder and roll up the paper into a thin tube, tapping it into the bottle that finishes up the spell. You watch as the dragon's drool acidifies the paper, already acidifying the rose petals, ground lavender buds, and frog's mucus prior, all in all creating a lilac hue in the glass bottle. "See? It's done. Now I just need to pour this into his cup of juniper latte when we go to potions."

"Huh," Piper says aloud. "That's sneaky."

Clicking your tongue at her, you slam the dark magic book closed, quickly shoving it into your tote bag while you plug the glass bottle with a cork, gently placing it along with the magic book.

"May the games begin," you whisper audibly only for Piper to let out another sigh of disappointment, but also in anticipation.

Everything was going smoothly. Going to class was like a mission, having to make sure that you don't mindlessly enter a trap, but as you sit down in your seat, in the sight of Professor Young of where safe base was, you just had to get through this class without being suspicious. Despite all else, everything was smooth sailing. Even pouring the potion into Namjoon's juniper latte when he wasn't paying attention was easy. And you noticed that no one has caught you— yet.

In a whirl of lingering moments, the grace period, you were sat in your seat, reading your potions book when you hear an abrupt sound, you and almost everyone in the class looking up to see Namjoon, his told figure looming over the other students with eyes wide as day.

He makes one audible noise, "Rina," before dashing out of the potion room in a coarse and gawky manner, Professor Young calling after him while the rest of the class took it to their own accord to follow him, already presuming that something only Witch Trial Week can influence. Eventually, all classes grew curious of the commotion that people trickle into the crowd as they follow in a hearty distance from Namjoon's graceless gait.

You pull Piper to the side when you see Namjoon approach his and your target, standing from one of the many columns of the area to get a good look given by the angle you were given. Piper couldn't help but to let out an amused giggle when you both see the moment unfold in front of your eyes.

"Namjoon?" Rina speaks, her cheeks going red when she sees Namjoon on his knees, head down. You almost snort at how her eyes go wide when she finds her biggest crush right in front of her, thinking this was out of his own willingness— Namjoon actually being in love with Rina. "Namjoon, what are you doing?"

"I love you!"

The loud announcement rings and echoes in waves down the hallway, you and Piper already having a hard time stifling your laughter at the confession. Rina gulps before she lets out a scoff in disbelief, a smile creeping on her face as if this was a moment she was expecting. Her cockiness makes you want to gag.

"I love you with all my heart, Rina! I want to stay by your side forever!"

Whispers upon whispers dissipate into the air, one of concern, one of cheer for Rina, and one of straight amusement.

Rina raises her eyebrows, clearing her throat. "Namjoon."

"Please, keep me in your life," Namjoon states, almost like a whimper. In that moment, he peers up at Rina with huge bug eyes, as if he was really begging. The anticipation stabs at you like daggers as Rina continues to stare at him in both awe and confusion by the sudden confession. "Master."

The last word leaves his mouth almost like a mutter, and you were for sure, for a mere second, that you misheard him— everyone did, until you're finding Namjoon leap from his stance into Rina's arms, immediately peppering her with kisses on her cheeks, causing her to stumble backwards. The murmurs amongst the crowd grow, following with a few giggles as Rina is trying to push Namjoon away, trying to hold in her giggles.

"Namjoon," Rina says through fits of giggles as she brings her hands up to his chest, trying to keep some distance between them. "Namjoon, not—"

The words are taken out of her mouth when Namjoon, shamelessly and giddily swipes his entire tongue along her cheek, earning a large gasp from the crowd. It leaves not only you in shock, but as well as Rina who entirely freezes in realization of the contact that was just made. Your mouth hangs open, until you roll your lips inward, trying so very hard not to break into a fit of laughter.

"Wrong spell, you hobworm!" Piper whisper yells, slapping a hand on your arm as you let a snigger out, looking at your friend with amusement, wondering why she wasn't finding this just as funny as you did.

"Hobworm?" You gasp at her insult, your amusement unabashedly shining through.

Piper scowls at you, biting her tongue to prevent from encouraging you further into amusement. "You cast the wrong spell!"

As your smile grows, you shake your head. "No, I swear I didn't. I did everything correctly—"

"Then why on earth is Namjoon under a puppy love spell?"

Glancing your eyes at Rina, you hear whispers among the crowd who watch as she tries to push a puppy in love Namjoon away from her. He whines and whimpers each time she makes the distance greater between them.

"Who did this!" Rina exclaims, trying to push a licking Namjoon away from her. "Who in the heavens thought this was funny? I will be reporting this to my mother and every little squeamish fritter that allowed this to happen— no, Namjoon, bad dog!"

This allows you to snort, all your laughter you were containing bursting out as you couldn't hold it in anymore. However, doing so only allows Rina to make direct eye contact with you, her face twisting in volatile spite, knowing very well that you are the culprit. Widening your eyes, you began to run before your mind processed it.

"___!" Rina screeches from the tops of her lungs, everyone in front of you turning heads to find you, the witch who dared to pull a little stunt against the High Priestess's daughter.

Legs stride step by step, zooming through the halls with adrenaline pumping your veins as the wretched witch was probably right behind you, chasing you down when you hear the sounds of heels, knowing very well that's Rina's 3-inch heeled mules clacking in the distance. Professors peek their head out of their classroom in curiosity, some yelling at you to not run in the halls, however, your eye is set on the prize— the exit.

It was closed, and to save time, you swipe your hand in front of you, a spell recited in your head swinging the door wide open that it hits the walls and causes a loud slamming noise. It was the door that led out to the garden of the academy of where fresh herbs grew, and at this point of your escape plan, you were hoping to hide in the depths of the greenhouse until class ended.

You run down the steps, eyes looking down as your feet land on each step, careful not to miss one or you'd fall down to your doom. And just when you safely made it down the staircase, you are bumped into a wall of rigid flesh and muscle, your immediate reaction to apologize, except the words are taken out of your mouth when you look up and see the face on all pictures and drawings matching to the person who looked just as mesmerizing in person as he is on paper; the one and only—

"Your grace," Jungkook hears you sputter, shutting your eyes and lowering your head to hide your own embarrassment and disappointment in such a quick second. His men behind him step forward, but he raises a hand to halt them in their place. "My sincere apologies—"

"Do you have no mind?" Jungkook hears the secretary who was leading him on a tour around Ember Academy snap, her booming and high-pitched screech at the sheer shame that has been exchanged by this incident.

"I am so incredibly sorry, your grace. I am at fault—"

The king himself is not at all bothered by a simple bump by a young witch, considering that it seemed you were on the run from something. He glances down at you in subtle curiosity, your head bowed before him with your hair braided, as you stand still despite the constant nagging of the secretary scolding you for being so unaware. And something catches his eye.

His eyes focus in on the crystal of pale, fair, ivory that hangs on your neck. It twinkles in his sight with the sunlight just bouncing off of it into his cornea, right before he settles in recognition of where he recalls it. There's a swift movement moments later of where you raise your head just slight, only to lock eyes with him.

How you've grown, he thinks to himself. He remembers how your eyes were that of similar of a doe, and how you stared at him with the same wide eyes when you were little. It scares him how much time has passed and how you stand before him, more matured than before— he wasn't expecting to see you this soon.

The locked gaze lasted briefly before your eyes widen and you bring your head back down.

He manages to let out a sigh, "I suggest you pay attention where you are going in the future."

Jungkook can tell that you were surprised by his response, despite you committing the worst crime by even daring to be this close to the king. Even the secretary was a distance away from him.

"Yes, your grace."

"You may look up," he speaks. The permission makes you hesitate, but swallowing the lump in your throat, you inhale deeply and rise, and when you steadily meet his eyes, immediately, it's as if you could see his past. The pain and sorrow he has been through. It all encompasses into the hallows of his eyes.

"What is your name?" You blink at the question blankly as he awaits your answer, arching an eyebrow when you stay mute. "Well?"

"___," you answer. "My name is ___, your grace."

There's this glint in Jungkook's eye that even he is aware that you notice. It occurs to him that he has not once asked your name before, but somehow he finds it this moment valuable to gain that piece of you. Meanwhile, you hope he does not find any significance to your name, that this incident isn't one to be held against one day.

It's then, he smirks, giving a single nod, etching your name into his brain for he knows he will not forget it.

"Your name will be in my memory, ___," he speaks ominously. Your heart drops in return. "You are dismissed."

six years later.

"Welcome."

The books weighed heavy in your arms, but you ignored the fact that it was nearly slipping out of your grasp as you gripped on the jar of dried magnolia leaves in the other hand, making your way to the small work table just right out into the shop of where you greet the presence inside the shop. Taking one last step to your marked destination, you let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders relaxing as you plop all of the buttery books onto the work table, still keeping the jar of magnolia leaves in your grasp.

"Is Circe here?"

At first, the voice processes in your mind, realizing that you were so engrossed on completing a minor trip without making a fool of yourself and dropping all your books at once that you forget for a mere moment that someone was in the shop. And what makes your whole body freeze like the ice age of modern day was the name you haven't heard in so long— only when your father would let it tumble out of his mouth and him being the last one to ever speak of the name.

The aura shifted within the shop. Not daring to turn around and meet eye to eye with the person who knows your mother's real identity, you keep your back turned away, placing the jar gently onto the table right next to your books, a pinky setting down first before gently setting down the bottom of the jar to relieve the loud sound it would have made.

"Who's asking?"

There's a moment of hesitation, one that you can only take in as sly and mischievous. Silently, you maintain a mantra in your head, one that recites a spell to freeze one's muscles entirely, the silence teeter totter between having to put the spell to use or not. The sound of a step is heard— one that sounds too close for your liking that in a whirlwind, you swiftly twirl around and let the mantra come to life in an instant, "carpe musculus."

And with wide eyes, you realize your mistake immediately when eyes lock with the ones that belong to the sheer ruler of the property you stand on— the king. It wasn't hard to forget them, since the last time you two had a rather unpleasant encounter. His eyebrow quirks up at your spell you casted upon him, his body completely frozen over as he was in the midst of grabbing one of the crystal necklaces hung on display at the register, an arm outstretched, but posture and dignified stature remained.

"An old acquaintance."

"Verto," you mutter, blinking with the same wide eyes as you see him gain control over his muscles again, his hand retracting and meeting his other hand from the behind, his throat clearing at the situation that he assumed— correctly— that you were fearful of. Bringing your head down instinctively, you open your mouth with eyes shut. "Your grace, I apologize—"

"Apology accepted," he cuts you off, making you peer up at his form from the curtains of your draping hair. Slowly, you rise your head, keeping your chin up to match his formal, dignified persona. "I am merely here to see your mother."

Scoffing lightly, you let your lips curl upward, turning around to grab at the jar of dried magnolia leaves from the table. "You must be an old acquaintance to call my mother by her real name," you take note aloud, wandering and maneuvering around the vast shop to the corner near the front of where the jars of special ingredients sit in the cupboards.

"Is Circe not what she goes by?"

You shake your head, opening the jar with one of the keys wrapped around your neck, twisting and turning before the cupboard unraveled a collection started by your mother. "Cora," you correct him. "She went by Cora."

"Very well then. Is Cora present?"

You blink at the question, mindlessly nudging the other jars to make room for your new ingredient you've obtained from the village due to a friendly seller who saved the leaves just for you.

"You just missed her," you announce, placing the jar snugly just between the phoenix feathers and pickled frog tongues. "By three years. She passed away."

"She passed?" The king speaks his question in subtle shock, evidently oblivious to your mother's passing, one that makes you question what connection he had to your mother as you turn around to meet his wide eyes. Politely, he realizes the atmosphere that was created and clears his throat. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I'm sorry for yours," you try to keep the the spirits high, a teasing smile on your lips. "It seems like whatever reason you came here for was pretty important if the king is in need of my mother's services. And in replacement of my mother's absence, how may I assist you?"

In comparison to the young witch that was so invigorated with competition that you grew blind to your own surroundings, you were not like her to easily cower in front of intimidating figures— including the king— anymore. If she saw you now, she'd probably wonder why you are so nonchalant speaking to the king as you are in the moment, but there is one thing you noticed that allowed you to act the way that you are now.

He came into the shop looking for your mother, seeking for her services. Though he has the power to put you into exile or to chop your head off or to even rip your heart out of your chest, it means nothing when he is obviously wanting a favor.

Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly before he scoffs lightly. "Not quite sure if you can help me."

"I'm not that sure either," you muse. "But I am the next option to my mother's assistance. Or if you have no interest of my assistance, then I believe this shop is not meant for you, your grace."

It wasn't hard to notice that he was having an internal battle the minute you turned the other cheek to resume what you were doing. Shutting the cabinet and locking it, you wander to the back of the room of where the work table was, taking the top book of the stack and dusting it with one of your mini feather dusters.

"What do you know about Complements?"

Freezing your wrist, you take a second to process the question set in the air, your eyebrows furrowing. Setting the duster and the ancient novel down, you twirl around once more to meet the eyes of the distant king, each second becoming more comfortable under his gaze that seemingly brought temptation and fear amongst others.

"Depends. I'm not very interested in the topic enough to know the ins and outs of it. However, I do know how to expose a Compliment tie—"

"What about erasing a Complement tie?"

An eyebrow shoots up on your face, his questions becoming more questionable from your mere curious uprising, but as you let his inquiry sit in your mind, you shrug. "Never been done."

His grace scoffs, allowing the pad of his thumb swipe under his nose before returning to hold his hand from his behind. "That's what your mother said."

"And I'm afraid, to this day, her word remains true," retorting to his attitude, you fold your arms over your chest. "However, I can unknot a Complement tie if needed."

"Your mother has already done that."

"Of course she has," you roll your eyes, realizing that the more you talk to the king of Frawen, the more you realize that you were talking to a wall. "How about this? I will do some digging about it in her archives. She has mentioned before that terminating a Compliment tie is hard. However, I do believe it's not impossible." He stares at you attentively before you placate his energy with a smile, a little light of hope intended. "I will come by your castle once I've retrieved a decent amount of information."

He stays silent, a steady gaze on your eyes that slowly made you more uncomfortable with each passing second, but thank the dark lords that someone enters your shop, the door making a very loud entrance that ruined the staring contest between you two, your eyes averting to the customer who entered the premises.

"Welcome," you announce, strolling from the work table up to the front to sit right behind the register, flickering your eyes towards the king when seeing that he hasn't moved from his spot. "Until then, King Jungkook, I have a customer to attend to."

The customer that saved the awkward tension takes a step into the shop, but with a single glance headed their way from the king, the customer drops their head and mutters an, "I'll wait outside" and flees back into the Upper World sun, the door shutting again. Lips parting, you gape at Jungkook who looks back at you, ignoring that his own presence had made one of your customers scurry off in intimidation.

"When will I hear from you again?"

Scoffing at him, you shake your head at his evident advantage and inhale deeply. "I'll start doing some research tonight, your grace. Expect me in front of your castle in two days. And if you could kindly so, can you tell my customer they may come in on your way out?"

He lets his gaze linger on yours for a second before silently nodding on his way out, his presence exchanged for the customer's. The customer glances at you awkwardly as you count write something on a piece of paper with your quill, as if confused that you were not trembling after just speaking with the king, but going back to your normal day as if the king had never arrived.

"Why, King Jungkook came to visit. Quite sooner than I expected," the amused tone that drips from Circe's tongue when she notices the arrival of none other than the King of Frawen just two weeks after he had gone up and left her abode after the reveal of his dreaded Complement tie.

"Came to greet a happy birthday to her?" The witch doesn't meet his brooding gaze, but gathers bouquets of flowers in her hold.

"No," he flatly states. "I still have a favor to ask of you."

"Ah," Circe nods, balancing the bouquet carefully before tossing her aging hair over her shoulder. "The one about your Complement? You left so quick the last time we spoke."

Jungkook clenches his jaw, an attempt to not forget that his own fear and apprehension after making the forsaken revelation that he had met his Complement so soon; a child— a hybrid, a product against the Upper World law— is his Complement. Curse himself for being so easily affected.

And while the two have known each other for awhile, Circe wastes no time to remind him of inevitable fate, despite her own idea of the past he carries. It weighs on him heavily that even Circe cannot recognize the aura of whom she once knew of.

"Yes," he inhales sharply. "I need you to erase it."

Circe bellows a light chuckle, one that makes his eyebrows raise at the response. "Are you insinuating I kill my daughter?"

Jungkook knows that the witch likes to dig in places to prevent the other party from kicking around the bush. She hates fluff and she hates time being wasted. Only now, giving up her eternal life only makes her that much crabbier about it.

"Do you believe that I'd be daft enough to try to imply such a thing?" He shakes his head, a slight smirk growing on his face. "Murder doesn't sit very well on my shoulders, Circe. You must at least know that much of me."

"Do I? It's been too long."

Jungkook smiles at the grinning witch, "I am insinuating you sever our Complement tie."

The witch in decorative forest green and black, stares at the king who wears a sack-colored cloak that did not do justice hiding his black, feathered doublet that resembled such royalty and wealth. Even with the hood on, it is no mistaking that the man with raven hair and pale, glimmering skin, is the king. She laughs, her finger tapping against the paper wrapped around the bouquet of plum-hued calla lilies. "I'm afraid I can only live up to your favor in part."

"The most powerful witch I know cannot cut a Complement tie?"

She is no stranger to his challenges, but because she has no need to maintain the name of being the infamous witch who wields such immense power no longer (as she knows that name will be given to someone much worthy), she merely shrugs, a smile on her face. "Not even I know how to cut a Complement tie, dearest Jungkook."

"Your lack of knowledge of erasing something as mere as a Complement tie is disconcerting, Circe."

The witch hums in response, before whispering something of broken latin, and with a waver of a her fingers, a string of deep scarlet attaches against Jungkook's chest, one that floats in the air and trails in a ragged line right over Circe's shoulder and through the wooden door of her home as if he were tied to something— to someone.

The unveiling of the string causes Jungkook's breath to be caught in his throat, a pinch of nothing like before right against his chest of where the string is attached to.

"I see that, despite your best efforts, you could not stray away from her. And you want to know why?" Circe turns over her shoulder, before pointing at the single evident knot made along the string. "This knot was formed when she touched you and so long as it is there, you will live in constant yearning to see her and to be with her. Tell me, how many times have you had to prevent yourself from coming here until it became too unbearable?"

"Can you reverse it? Untie the knot?" His breath is tattered, uneven. It's as if the exposure of the string wrapped every inch of his heart and silently, the king of Frawen fears that his heart might be taken out of his chest.

"I can," she nods, an expression of indifference on her face. "But doing so does not change the fact that you are each other's Complements. It means that you will no longer feel the constant and desperate need to see her."

"Then I beg of you to do it—"

"However, the bond is strong, Jungkook," her gold eyes stare back at him before they soften, as Jungkook's mental mantras to fight off the peculiar pain deriving from the scarlet string has become a door to all of the pains he has experienced in the past. "I fear that the more you leave it in the dark, the more it will create more conflicts in the future."

"Having this complement now is already creating conflicts for me, Circe."

"Jungkook, if you two were to see each other again by the universe's happenings, must you know that the knot cannot be made again by simple touches. It has to be tied by the hand of a witch."

"If it's not any burden to you," he breathes in sharply. "I'd like you to unknot our Complement tie."

Circe makes a face of indifference before sighing. "Very well," she states just before she mumbles another string of latin and snaps, and lo and behold, the knot unravels by itself. The scarlet rope looked like it had no indentation of where the knot once was.

Jungkook lets out an aching sigh, as if he was under water for too long. Circe makes one more movement of her hand before the red string dissipates into the air, no longer exposed to the eye.

"There," she says. "Now leave, before she sees you again."

Circe doesn't give Jungkook a look of goodbye as she hurries inside her house. She feels the presence of Jungkook leave, exhaling in relief as she peers down at her daughter who gleams up at her, her hair in two buns on either side of her head. Her daughter lets out a squeal of "mommy!" before dropping a sage bundle in her hand to run up and hug Circe's leg.

"Happy birthday, my dear. Six years old already?" The witch pats her daughter's head as she giggles against her. "Go on into the kitchen. I'll be there in a moment."

And as she turns around to trot inside the kitchen, Circe takes notice of her neck that has been exposed due to her hairstyle that she wanted to wear this morning. The etching of her Complement mark that once inked her skin of a rose, had become a blank canvas.

As if the mark was never there to begin with.

You haul across the other wing of the castle that stretches from the main entrance of where the gigantic black, grandiose door stares at you mockingly for not having the privilege to be invited by the king himself as well as enter the main entrance to unravel the glory of what stood for centuries.

Servants of the fairest skin and darkest of hairs escort you to the a room you are unsure of, but you don't question them when they open the doors for you of the building. This was as close you were ever getting to the castle.

"Your grace," you announce your arrival before you could realize that another man stands there from the side of your kingdom's king. Freezing in place with books tensing against your chest, your lips part. "King Jimin—!"

"Hello— oh, please. I don't like the bowing," his voice is light, a striking contrast from Jungkook's ominous tone. You lift your head that was on the way down of honorability, eyes staying wide at his unexpected presence. "Trust me, I'm not a big formalities type of person like my brother."

"What is it? Did you find anything?" The king ruins the moment by his barking, an impatience growing in his chest.

You open your mouth, and close it. "Yes, and no."

"Proceed."

Walking over to the table, Jimin smirks when he hears the loud plop that comes from your stacks of ancient books slapping on the table, dust sprinkles in the air by such impact as you wave it dismissively out of your face to spread out the books evenly.

"These are just merely collections my mother had of Complement ties laying out and about," you begin, grabbing hold of the green and gold accented leather bind novel of browning pages. "They all talk about the history of it, the perspectives of it, and some old spells that used to be done moderately back then, but have been taken out of a witch's curriculum in school. Oh, like this one goes on and on about the importance of it and why finding out who your Complement is before you meet them is deemed as bad luck. Like seeing the bride before the wedding, which actually originated from arranged marriages when— sorry, tangent. If I can just find the book..." As your voice trails, your eyes furrow in concentration to find the book amongst the pile you brought that would deem as very important.

Finally, you hold it up to and pat it, Jungkook raising an eyebrow and Jimin looking bemused at your inner workings being elicited through your rambles and tangents.

"This is where I stumbled upon something fruitful," you began. "It's a book that's anti-Complement. The author was actually a witch who thought his Complement was, and I quote, "vile and tremendously horrendous", so he composed this book that explains how to unknot the Complement tie."

"Nothing about cutting it?"

You smile as you open the book. "There's a whole chapter about it, but," as you flip open to it, the book in your hands bursts into bright blue flames illuminating your skin with a blue tint before it calms down, living proof that the book itself was cursed, either by the author or your mother's doing. "The book has been cursed and the most vital information you want means you're not the only one who is searching for a severance."

"Couldn't you just... cut it?" King Jimin chimes in and you shake your head.

"No, this witch said that cutting it would damage the blade and not the tie," you close the book to prevent the fire from getting anywhere. "The tie itself, when exposed, is simply a scarlet rope. Its material is very ethereal and even your finest sword cannot cut it in two."

"Brilliant," Jungkook says, defeatedly. He sucks in a deep breath before looking at you, eyes flickering up and down your form. "When will I hear from you again?"

Making a loud sound as you stack the books on top of each other, you look up at him and raise an eyebrow. "Again? You're expecting me to continue the search for an answer that I can't give you? This is all the information that I can gather from my mother's archive. I don't know what else you expect me to do."

"What the daughter of the most powerful witch of this kingdom can do, of course," he retorts, easily. It makes you scoff.

"I apologize, your grace, but I am not going through those extra lengths."

"For someone who adheres to formalities very often, you don't seem to be very intimidated by me. At least not enough to do what I say."

"Is your job as a king to be intimidating?"

It was that type of riposte that would have your head, an immediate escort to your death for even thinking that a cocky retort would come out of your mouth. If only if Jimin hadn't let out an amused snort, punishment would not have immediately be put off the table, but the irritation forming in the king's blood remains. He doesn't turn to his brother to hush him, but rather keeps a heavy stare at you, narrowed eyes into slits as a heavy warning— yet you stay grounded, raising an eyebrow at him.

"And you don't seem to know when to not speak your mind."

"With all due respect, King Jungkook, may I remind you I am here because you requested my services. I've given you what I can provide, free of charge. My mother has probably dealt with a customer who has wanted the same thing, and if the book was cursed, it's a heavy sign that it's not a wise path to follow."

King Jungkook inhales deeply, eyes staring at the hybrid who fears nothing under his gaze. He mentally curses to himself knowing very well that Circe was the most probable culprit of cursing her own books, for the sole reason of not wanting him to get his hands on vital information that would separate a Complement tie attached to her own daughter. Sighing, he makes a dismissive nod towards you, a finger tapping on his arm chair repeatedly. "Very well. Dismissed."

And without a word, you gather your things and leave, the same men escorting you away from the castle and the inconsiderate king.

Once your presence no longer lingered, Jungkook sinks down into his chair, letting his head fall against the fist of his arm that propped it up. Jimin clicks his tongue beside him.

"Now tell that was not who I thought that was," Jimin sings once the door had fully shut closed and it was just Jungkook and his brother of the neighboring kingdom.

"Your instincts are spot on, brother," Jungkook says with heavy sarcasm, shaking his head.

Jimin heartily laughs. "It doesn't take a Merlin to see that she's your Complement. It's quite obvious."

"Care to go more in depth?"

"Other than the fact that she's the only outsider you granted a visit at your castle, you're not so quick to throw her out either," he begins before tapping his finger on the table. "You also don't like looking her in the eye. You get tense when you do. Either you fear her or you fear getting close to her."

Jungkook raises an eyebrow in surprise at his brother's quick observation— it must be all the times he's observing human behavior in the mortal world.

"She's mentioned that her books derive from her mother's archives— is her mother...?"

"Her mother was the one that undid our Complement knot."

"Her mother was the infamous Circe, then?" Jimin marvels with his signature taunting smirk on his face. "Well, I'll be damned."

"You already are," Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"Your Complement is a hybrid— and not just a hybrid, Circe's daughter?" Jungkook didn't like that his own brother kept reminding him of who his Complement was, thus encouraging the fire of searching for a severance. "Despite the fact that she holds tremendous power, she seems very promising. You're not fond of her?"

"Jimin, you know—"

"Right, pardon me. You don't want her," Jimin inhales deeply, nodding.

"Jimin," Jungkook begins once again. "I can't have her as my Complement. I need her to find a spell to wither our tie."

"Is there another reason why you need to find such spell other than you're dreading that she's bound to you?"

"So that she could find real love and romance. She will not find it with me."

There was an unreadable look in Jimin's face that even his own brother could not decipher. It lingers for a moment before he makes the executive decision to stand up from the seat, knocking on the table with his pale knuckles. "I'm heading back to Merosa. May I make the suggestion that you take her to Sagewood?"

"Sagewood? Why in the heavens would I take her there?"

"If you want to cut the tie so badly, then I think it wouldn't be a very shabby place to start, no? After all, she only has access to such limited information— you're not being much help either. Besides, you both will most likely find something valuable there."

It was pruning day.

The plants you planted outside your windowsill in its respected pots looked green as ever, with some minor flaws sticking out. You walk outside with shears in hand, identifying the buds you'd snip off with love. You enjoy taking care of your plants, the only common denominator between this world and the mundane world that gave you a sense of normality.

Humming an old folk tune from the mundane world, you admire your plants, recalling that some of these plants were the ones your mother would plant back in the mundane world. As you snip off one of your greenery, you hear the faint sounds of neighs from afar, halting in front of your shop and creating audible commotion behind your back. You overhear your neighbors rush out of their respected buildings, having you grow curious by the second.

Raising an eyebrow, you turn around to find nothing but the king hopping off his trusty steed of ebony glory with a luscious mane, planting his feet flat onto the ground with ease while two other men follow his lead, staying a hearty distance from him. He meets your eyes immediately, ignoring that everyone around him are caught in a trance by his sudden appearance in the town.

"King Jungkook," you marvel with a smirk, ignoring the fact that your neighbors were staring in mixed awe and fear. "What a lovely surprise."

He approaches you, stepping onto the gravel, expressionless. "I request your stay at my castle."

The words don't process fast enough in your mind, a blank expression being your response, but even then, you couldn't help but to laugh, but it came out more like a baffled scoff. "I beg your pardon?"

"To make use of the castle's library," he fills in, a smirk painting his face. "We, too, have an archive for all things your curious, knowledgable mind may want to see. Thousands of collections over the centuries, compilations from notable figures. I'm giving you access to that information in search of the severance."

You gape at him, lowering your shears. The king takes this action with positivity as his smirk only grows for a second before he's back to his emotionless expression.

"I will have my men come by to escort you to the castle tomorrow morning at nine-hundred. Pack your things," he says with no confirmation from you. His passive command makes you blink while you watch him turn his shoulder.

Amidst his turn to head back to his source of transportation and the other men who stand in front of your property, you stop him, "really? And when have I agreed?"

His body comes to a full stop just a hearty amount of distance from you. "And you wouldn't?" He calmly states aloud. In a moment, he's turning his body back to completely face you, cocking his head slight. "Tell me, you're not at all curious about how to cut a Complement tie?"

"Why would I? I have no intention of doing so."

"So you'd want to stay bound to one person your whole life? When you meet your Complement, you want to be so attached to the point that being even just miles away from them tears you apart? Every second you do not see them is as if your heart is being shredded apart in layers. Finding out who your Complement is only ruins you in a way that is a hell disguised as a heaven," he says as if it were straight spitfire. There was remorse and dread in his voice that even you cannot decipher completely— as if the pain that courses through his vein is truly authentic.

"In the mundane world, it's different, no? Humans fall in love with who they want, when they want. Did you ever compare that to the Upper World where it is frowned upon to not be with your Complement?"

"They differ, yes," you say through gritted teeth.

"Are you not so curious as to how to sever the tie? To at least be one of the first witches in centuries to hold great knowledge of a severance? That maybe you would one day change your intentions to cut your tie?"

You stay silent, placing your shears down as you stare at him attentively. Sure, you were curious, but your curiosity grew more prevalent seeing how the king was doing so much as to using a rhetoric tactic to ease your answer into a yes. And oddly enough, it was working.

"Besides... free stay, breakfast— in the castle? Surrounded by all things good and gold?"

Letting out a scoff, you narrow your eyes at him. "Is that your way of paying me for my services? A bed and breakfast at the castle? A week to pretend I'm royalty?" Challenge dripped from your tone evidently, but while the others around you and nearly the whole kingdom all feared the king's presence, you didn't share the same feeling. After all, this was the king asking for your services.

And suddenly, his expression changes, one of seriousness turned into dry amusement as he lets out a deep laugh bellowing from his stomach. "No, I'm offended that you may think I'm that cheap," he states as you raise an eyebrow, stabbing your shears, sharp point down into the window sill just right behind your plants. "I may have taken advantage of your services before, forgetting my place as a client to you. For that, I apologize sincerely. I am offering pounds of gold to you in exchange that you continue your search to cut a tie."

"Pounds of gold?"

"I notice that you live in your shop," he speaks of apparentness, making your cheeks go red as he turns his gaze to look at the shop behind you, a place you vaguely remember growing up in. "After your mother died, you decided to turn your home into a shop? Selling your services?" In that moment, you freeze only slight, caught off guard by how easily he put two and two together, you merely forgetting that he was an "acquaintance" with your mother— of course, he knew of this property before you probably were born.

"If the pounds of gold are not enough, I would be glad to make your stay at the castle permanent after you've found the severance."

You raise your eyebrows at his offer, never missing the way his lips quirked upwards for a ghostly second when he sees he's appealing you in the right direction.

"A permanent stay at your castle? As what? Your mistress? A maid?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Of course not. Your mother would find a way to resurrect herself to rid of my existence if she found out that I made you, her daughter, a mistress. Let alone a maid."

"You will be staying at my castle free of charge. And while I know this shop has been dear to your mother— dear to you, I am also willing to put a new location in the center of Sapphire Hill for your services on the table. Closer to the castle and in the heart of Frawen. That is, only if you have a mind to accept my proposal."

Inhaling sharply, you both stare at each other in silence as your mind juggles and he patiently awaits your answer, his body still as a stone, probably cold as one too. There was no other ulterior option to choose from— after all, why would you decline such a proposal? You were just as curious about the severance as he was, wondering why your mother never wanted to stray close to that path and why she has never mentioned about it before. And perhaps, you too could also cut your tie before you ever get to find your Complement if you ever came down to it.

However, despite his generous offers for a mere severance, there was a deep feeling in your stomach that didn't sit very well with you, one that was silently yearning you to not accept. It felt alarmingly unnatural. Just as unnatural as interacting with the king up close three times in a month.

"Alright," you sigh, defeatedly, grabbing your shears from the wood and returning to pruning day. "You've appealed to me."

"Wonderful," he acknowledges, a single celebratory nod coming your way before he turns around to head back on his steed. "I will have people to escort you tomorrow. Nine-hundred."

"Quite a castle," you announce, eyes boggling at the interior design of the castle you never thought you'd see in person. Hell, you didn't think you'd ever get to see it closer than it being on top of the hill until just previously.

The halls were a fair color accented with alluring gold, intricate designs resembling a brush stroke, as if the gold were painted free-handedly, yet a symmetry being maintained. Crimson rugs, drapes, furniture dabble the expense of the hallway itself, and ebony statues and sculptures stare back at you broodingly. Two broad statues of fairies introduce you on either side of the entrance, facing each other with conch shells held to their mouths.

Selene purrs in your arms, probably just as dazzled at the structure as you are. "I know, baby, I know," you mutter under your breath as your pace slows along the red carpet.

"___." The voice announcing your name echoes throughout the vast hallway, pulling you out of your thoughts and daydreams as you peer towards the grandiose staircase ahead, finding a familiar figure in red with accenting white tassels walk down the steps, slowly and gracefully.

Selene suddenly paws out of your grasp to be let go of, you lowering her down to the floor carefully as you know that she likes to roam around new and foreign areas by herself.

"Your grace," you acknowledge, pacing towards him to meet him in the middle, eyes watching Selene trot along the scarlet carpet just in front of you, only to realize that she made her independent way to the king. You arch an eyebrow when Jungkook stops his footing altogether, both of you noticing Selene taking a liking into him, purring against his leg and her tail curling around his calf, making elegant circles around him in adoration. "I see Selene likes you."

Jungkook coughs before removing his eyes from the feline to meet yours. "You have a cat."

"I do," you nod. "Is she not allowed in the castle?"

"I'll make the exception," Jungkook swallows as Selene rubs her cheek against his leg. You mentally thank Selene for kissing his arse, knowing that Jungkook might have gone soft for your feline friend immediately and discarded the direct thought of kicking her out.

"I was given her a couple years back."

"Were you?"

You hum in response. "Given to me as a gift for my birthday. I named her after selenite, one of my favorite crystals."

"As long as she doesn't get into anyone's way, your feline company is welcome. However, if she were to be causing mischief, do not be blowed if she is in your soup," the king warns as he turns around, a hand motioning you to trail behind him, but the whole situation nearly made you snort out loud. Was that humour in his voice?

Following him, you scoop Selene with a hand as you caught up to her, cutting her curiosity trip short as you did not want to have her disappear and find her as your dinner, despite King Jungkook's warning sounding slightly sarcastic. His foot steps climbing up the stairs echo, his boots emphasizing his steps as you follow a few steps behind him, your flats being light-sounded from underneath you.

The Upper World resembled a victorian age from the mundane world. As much as you missed your tennis shoes and trousers, the Upper World called for bell-shaped dresses, the air-sucking corsets, and uncomfortable shoes that hurt your back if standing for too long.

As King Jungkook walks down the spacious hall with such glorious designs, you notice that there were two beautiful women in gray high neck dresses, eggshell aprons wrapped around their waist standing on the side with head lowered. Despite their dull attire, their appearance is what caught your eye.

The one on the right had skin of the bluest topaz with complementing navy hair tied up into a sleek bun. If she had looked up earlier, you would admire her sunshine eyes that made her look so kind. The on the left had contrasting mauve skin and emerald hair flowing down her shoulders. She wore a headband to keep her hair out of her face.

Nymphs.

"Cricket, Calla," the king's voice ruined the solace of the hallway, the snap of both ethereal beings' heads making direct eye contact with King Jungkook, you catching the hazel eyes of the mauve skinned beauty for a split second before she keeps steady eye contact with the person she serves.

"They will be serving you throughout your stay," he states towards you, a nod cueing the two nymphs accordingly.

"Good morning, ___. I am Calla," the topaz nymph speaks first, bowing her head as you respectfully did the same.

"And I, Cricket," her partner speaks, bowing as well.

"It is lovely to meet you both, Calla and Cricket," you speak with a kind tone as they give the smallest of shy smiles.

"Aster and Fickle are unloading the carriages. They will be up to bring her belongings in any minute. You may start unpacking—"

"Oh no, that's not necessary," you intervene. The king sends you a glare for interrupting him, but daringly, you roll your eyes at him. "Cricket, Calla, just have Aster and Fickle leave my luggages on my bed. I didn't pack heavy, so it's alright. I'd prefer if I unpack myself."

"As you wish," Cricket and Calla say in unison before King Jungkook gives one last asserting, yet hesitating nod, turning his shoulder to continue walking down the hall.

"Come. I will show you the library," he orders, having you share one last look at the beautiful nymphs who both smile at you. In that moment, you give them a smile that you hoped would make them feel safe— as if you all have been friends before. As you tear your eyes away, you trot up to the king's pace, Selene being safe in your arms as you mentally curse the king for having long legs.

Walking for nearly a minute or two, you didn't realize he had stopped in front of large double doors, black wood engraved with the exact designs you recall in the main entrance, intriguing you with every bit. You blink for a nanosecond until you hear the door unlock and open, having to blink once more when you see that the king was only a few feet away from the immense opening, arms held behind his back as the door widened.

"Did you do that?" You question aloud. It sounded very mundane of you— as if you had not seen anything weirder in the Upper World.

"Yes," he speaks, raising an eyebrow at you as you wait for the doors to open fully. "I am a Pureblood, aren't I?"

His reminder made you realize that you did indeed forget that Purebloods hold some sort of power. It was only the three kings who held such powers, being why they were named the most powerful trio over centuries to live. Unsure why, you didn't take the King of Frawen to hold telekinesis, if anything.

The doors finally stop opening, two grand doors coming to a halt on either side of the opening and creating an entrance to a room that already has your mouth hung open.

"This is the library," he speaks, taking a step in first. "All of Frawen's greatest works over the centuries are all kept in here."

It was not the immense room that was its own castle itself, but it was the giant collections, endless spines of literature and word composition that was tempting you to swallow all of the knowledge up from them.

"These are the collections of Edgar Allen Poe," you observe, remembering that you had to read one of his famous works in your mundane junior high, the eerie components of his pieces standing out to you enough that you recall his name. "The Upper World holds mortal works?"

"Just the finer ones. Homer, Machiavelli, the Brontë sisters, Cordelia Maine—"

You widen your eyes. "No way. Cordelia Maine? You have her works, too?"

"Of course," he laughs at your never-ending bafflement. "She might be famous to you mortals, but her roots don't stray away from Frawen."

"Mortals," you repeat, catching his word that he knowingly categorizes you. It makes you blink up at him, more concerned why you weren't feeling as uneasy as you should that the king who stands in front of you and has brought you inside his castle knows you're the product against the Upper World law. "Dare I ask how you know this?"

The king smirks at you, probably bemused at how you weren't exactly trembling in your boots, but you probably have a spell prepared at the tip of your tongue. "Do you forget that I can smell your blood? You reek of mortals."

Arching an eyebrow at him, you narrow your eyes just slight. "Should I be worried?"

He smirks. "That I hold such knowledge? No, or else I would have no way to find a severance now, would I?" His rhetorical question is followed with a quirk of his eyebrow, a bemused smile illuminated from the indirect sun from the window. "Besides, your mother and I were acquaintances. I am well aware of your father and while I have never met him, I do know that your mother loved him, even if they were worlds apart."

Not saying another word, you smile. One that lingers on your face for a bit, one that is shared between you and the king, one that is as if you two have created some sort of connection by this secret he finds indifference to.

However, you do not let the smile linger for too long, for you cannot trust anyone so easily, no matter if your heart is oddly beating out of your chest and there is an odd stir in your stomach when his eyes remain on your form for a moment as if he is trying to study you and your every feature.

You disregard it though, as if a chip on your shoulder, or a hair in your face when he leads you back to your room from the grand library, claiming he has work to finish.

Later that afternoon, you were in the midst of unpacking your luggages when Calla and Cricket make an appearance into your room. They were there to escort you to lunch, but you told them to give you a few minutes to organize your things, encouraging them to wait in your room as you did so.

"Are you his betrothed?"

The sudden question makes you stumble, nearly dropping the books in your hand that you deemed most viable to bring to this trip. "Sorry?" You laugh, looking at them with a sheepish smile. A harmless question, but a stretch to inquire.

"Isn't that why he's having you stay here at the castle?" Cricket asks, keeping her hands intertwined in front of her as they both watch you organize your knick-knacks of books and crystals and Selene's toys.

"Oh to the heavens, no," you laugh, Cricket furrowing her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side, wondering why your peculiar stay at the castle isn't for that singular motive. "I'm here for an entirely different reason."

Calla blinks blankly, her long, blue lashes making it obvious. "Our king doesn't usually like to keep guests overnight— let alone indefinitely."

Placing your books onto the antique dresser, you raise an eyebrow at them. "Is that right?"

"We thought, perhaps, this was his attempt in courting you," Cricket says, rather timidly. "After all, you're very beautiful."

The compliment brings red to your cheeks. "You're just saying that—"

"But, 'tis true," Calla nods. "We're nymphs—"

"We can't lie—"

"We thought that he may have found love again—"

"We would be surprised if he didn't find you, at the very least, beautiful—"

"Our king doesn't open a room for just anyone, since he's very..."

"Closed off."

They jump off their sentences swiftly, as if a ball ricocheted against the walls in great speed and force. It intrigues you as you furrow your eyebrows, more interested in the last part they had to say. "Closed off? Why is that?"

Cricket and Calla look at each other before bringing their head down. "Have you not heard of his past?" You shake your head before Calla sighs and begins again. "Our king is the most kind, most fair— but it does not redirect the light away from his past—"

"Lost the people most close to him. Lost his mind along the way, and perhaps, most tragically, lost his soul. It began with Dawn and then his best friend who happened to be his general, and then his parents, and so on. They are frightened of him."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Who's they?"

"All of Frawen. Even those in the mundane world have heard of his story," Cricket answers.

"Frawen respects our king, if anything. However, that respect derives from fear. I'm afraid that the people in this castle are the only people who love him, who see the better in him."

"So I see it's been a lonely castle on this hill," you nod in understanding. "I won't bombard you both with anymore questions. You both are free to leave, I will meet you both in the dining room."

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"I'm sure. Please, I do not want to be a burden to you both."

The nymphs giggle. "We assure you that you are not. It's rather refreshing to tend to someone other than the king and his brothers."

"You both have been very kind. I will see you both there."

"And my lady," Cricket speaks. "We wish you a wonderful stay."

"Jungkook," Circe acknowledges his presence in a blink of an eye the minute he makes a step onto the property that was under an invisibility spell for nearly a decade, only to have it reappear as if it didn't disappear in the first place. "Here to welcome me back?"

The king lowly laughs, not taking another step onto the property as Circe turns around from watering her deep red rose bushes planted right outside. "I was surprised to hear that you made a foolish decision to move to the mundane world."

Circe ticks her tongue, shaking her head at how his prejudice against the humans stain his tone. "I don't believe it was foolish, dear Jungkook."

"Is that what you tell the Counsel?"

Circe lets out an amused sound, maneuvering around her bushes. "The Counsel can believe what they want, but they hold nothing against me. By law, I am allowed to be here and to be there. I may be a witch, aging like a mere mortal, but I still uphold powers strong enough to burn them alive before they can even think of crossing me."

"I have no doubt," Jungkook smirks. "But by law, is your daughter allowed to be here?"

Circe pauses her watering, hose in hand halting with the water continuously drenching a part of the rose bush as she raises an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Jungkook?"

"I heard she attends Ember Academy now. Enrolled as a full-fledged witch. I've come bearing a gift for her."

"A gift?"

"Call it a welcome back gift," he speaks with an anticipating tone right before he walks over to his horse of where a woven basket was attached to the saddle. Circe remains where she stands, watching him carefully as he walks towards her before she senses something, one that makes her hair stand on her arms. As he nears, Circe peeks into the basket, only to have her jaw drop as she sees that it is a kitten.

A kitten of midnight beauty, sleeping soundly in its basket of blankets.

Circe, who could not help it at all, laughs. Soft laughter rumbles through her throat as she coos at the creature, reaching her hands out to take the basket in her hands. "And your arrival has nothing to do with the fact that today is her birthday?"

"Is that today?" Jungkook ponders aloud as Circe laughs, sneaking a smirk on his face before she strokes a finger on the kitten's head carefully and gently. She can tell that he remembers, and that the years leading up to now, he always have.

Sighing, Circe's smile fades as she looks up at Jungkook, tired eyes and all. "I must tell you, Jungkook."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"I've grown ill," she begins, retracting her finger from the kitten to hold the basket with two hands. "I have been for awhile now and I can feel my end nearing. I trust to believe that you will protect her."

Jungkook blinks a couple times, the odd construct of having someone who has been around for longer than he has tell him explicitly that their end is inevitable and that it was nearing quite sooner than he expected was worth a double take and a few seconds to digest.

"You may not want to stay tied to her, but I trust you enough to uphold her secret. And to protect her when needed," the kitten purrs meekly in the basket, making Circe glance at it for a mere moment before meeting the concerned eyes of Jungkook with matching knitted eyebrows. "Believe that I am not entrusting you with her life, but that the feeling in your heart of wanting to protect her is inevitable. No matter if the knot remains untied."

He opens his mouth, but the words he could not formulate were taken away quickly by Circe's chuckle, waving him off.

"I know what you'll say," she raises an eyebrow, lips curling and eyes creating crescents. "But if anything happens in the future, must you know you have my blessing."

"Circe," he begins.

"She'll appreciate this kitten," Circe interrupts, smiling at how the kitten inhaled and exhaled, curling in its ball with comfort of the soft fleece blankets. "I'm sure you don't want her to know it came from you, perhaps?"

There is a knowing look that the two share, one of pure guise. "May it be our little secret."

"Among thousands," Circe nods, one in which Jungkook does the same. "Will this be the last time we meet?"

"I would hope not."

"Then I bid you farewell, either for now or forever," Circe smiles, a weak curl of her lips, an evident form that made Jungkook realize that she looked much older than before— the gray hairs, her smile lines and forehead wrinkles. It all reminded Jungkook that she is, in fact, a pure mortal, withering faster than most. It scares him, but it makes him curious as to her motive despite him knowing that she did it out of love.

As he leaves the ebony kitten in Circe's hands to give to her daughter's possession, he departs her property with the lingering thought that maybe— perhaps people really do scary things out of love.

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lala-ladybug · 4 years ago

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter 1

Hello hello! First fic here, it’s a Maribat AU with a side of Sword Art Online. Or what I remember from having watched the show once about five years ago. We’ve got Marinette and minimal class salt, Young Justice but only the good parts, and primarily Jasonette. Please spread the word (I am a tiny sideblog) and let me know what you think <3

Read here on AO3

Chapter 1: You have no idea how many baddies I’m going to blow up because of you

Friday, at long last. Marinette could not have exhaled a bigger sigh of relief. It was mid-way through the school term, her commissions were ramping up, and Hawkmoth had become frustratingly active. Her duties as class president had only increased as she and her friends neared the end of lycée, not to mention all the studying she was doing for the baccalauréat on top of her regular school work. Commissions were booming now that her popularity as the anonymous designer MDC was soaring worldwide. She wouldn’t give any of it up for the world, but she might enjoy getting more than three or four hours of sleep for once.

There was only part of her life that had gotten easier since that day three years ago when she was entrusted with a pair of spotted earrings and an old god to match. Ladybug started out with one partner, but she now had a whole team to share the responsibilities of keeping their city safe. Ryuko and Viperion became permanent fixtures of the Parisian rooftops, and Bourdonne replaced Queen Bee after the infamous (albeit self-inflicted) unmasking of Chloe Bourgeois. The people of Paris looked to these heroes with pride and trust.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng, now the Guardian of the Miraculous, looked to her partners with trust as well. She had decided that with her in charge, she could no longer keep secrets from her friends, from her new Order of the Guardians. She discussed it with Chat Noir, and he had smiled and agreed that it was time. And one day, when Ladybug gathered her teammates on a remote rooftop in the dead of night, she said only “I trust you,” before allowing her transformation to fall.

She wasn’t nervous, not really. She knew Kagami and Luka had good hearts, and she had seen firsthand how much Chloe had grown. Those three accepted her civilian self, her true self, without half a thought, and followed their leader in dropping their transformations as well. Chloe got her quips in while Ladybug looked to Chat Noir.

He passed his gaze over the faces of their friends and smirked like he was holding in a laugh. As he said “Claws in,” Marinette could hear the laugh in his voice, an intonation that sounded so very familiar, and oh. Of course.

Adrien Agreste beamed at his friends, both in the mask and out, and said fondly, “I’m so glad it’s you.”

The rest, of course, was history. For the year and a half since then, the five heroes of Paris had kept the city safe from threats magical and mundane alike. Hawkmoth had, of course, gotten craftier and more vicious with his attacks, sometimes choosing to send bursts of weaker akumas over the span of a week, sometimes waiting a month before sending an especially brutal villain their way.

But it was nothing that the Order of the Guardians couldn’t handle. Even though it could get exhausting after a while, which is why the incoming weekend was a welcome reprieve. There was another reason why this particular weekend was so exciting, which was that a new video game, Mindscape, was debuting. It would be released at midnight EST, which was 6:00 in the morning for Paris.

“Today’s the day, girl!” Alya squealed as she flagged Marinette down on their way to the classroom. “We are so lucky that our class won that raffle to get these exclusive passes. I bet I’ll be the first blog to get the scoop on this new tech they’re using!”

Marinette giggled and started to reply, “Super lucky, right? I’m excited too, I heard--”

“You know,” Lila cut her off as she sidled up to Alya. “I’m not saying that I didn’t enter us to get those downloads, but I was a big help with beta testing.”

How she managed to time that comment just as the three girls crossed the threshold of the classroom, and how she managed to know that nearly the whole class would already be there to hear it, Marinette would never understand. She only had to wait a moment before the rest of their friends rushed to the door to thank Lila.

“This opportunity is amazing, we are incredibly grateful!” Max was first in line, ever the technology-enthusiast.

Kim pushed his shorter friend out of the way and vigorously shook Lila’s hand. “You have no idea how many baddies I’m going to blow up because of you.” Lila looked a little overwhelmed as he continued to shake her hand all the while, and she gave him a nervous smile.

He was soon pushed out of the way as Alix muscled her way to the front next. “I definitely owe you for giving me the chance to kick his ass in a brand new way!” She jerked her head to where Kim had landed on the floor, pouting at her.

As the rest of the class who would be joining them in the game’s premiere expressed their thanks, Alya looked on with an affectionate smile. She was so very happy that she now had two kind, selfless best friends. Her smile fell a little as she noticed Marinette stoically edging her way around the crowd and up to her seat, not having said a word to Lila. Alya just wished that her two besties would get along.

Alya put a hand on Lila’s shoulder and smiled her thanks before following Marinette to what was once their shared desk. “You really should thank her, you know,” Alya implored hopefully.

Without turning around to face Alya, Marinette paused and shared an incredulous look with Adrien, who was already seated at his shared desk with Nino. She then shrugged and replied, “Lila never actually said that she got us the passes,” before continuing up the steps to her seat at the back of the class. Alya shook her head and sat down. It was always like this, a cool indifference from Marinette whenever Lila came up. They were both such incredible people, Alya couldn’t understand why they didn’t get along.

As for Marinette, she was semi-content to let Lila be as long as her lies didn’t hurt anybody. Her unrealistic promise to take away all of Marinette’s friends was never fulfilled, and honestly the amount of emotional energy it used to sap from her just wasn’t worth it anymore. Marinette had no idea how Lila was going to get her hands on a copy of the game when Mari was, of course, the one who had won the raffle. She distributed the special access passes herself, and Lila certainly hadn’t gotten one. If this was the way that she wanted to make friends, she would eventually have to face the consequences.

But for now, Lila was basking in her praise. That is, until she glanced at her phone and gave a small gasp of dismay.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, concern already etched on her face.

Lila covered her mouth with one hand and started rapidly blinking back tears. “It’s my VIP copy of the game. There was a mixup in the mail and it won’t get here in time for tomorrow morning! I’m so sorry everyone, it looks like you’ll have to do it without me....” She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled with barely restrained sobs.

The class shared a worried look, and Sabrina piped up, “It’s okay Lila, you can borrow my copy.” Lila immediately looked up and surged forward to clasp the hands of her friend.

“Really? But won’t it have the same problem?” Sabrina smiled and shook her head. “Nope, it’s a digital download! I don’t mind, you can always trade it back when your VIP pass arrives later.”

Lila gave her a brilliant smile, any tears long-since dried. “Oh, thank you so much Sabrina! I’ll see what I can do about getting you a VIP pass too once mine gets here.”

At that moment, Chloe walked in, and one look at the scene displayed in front of her had her rolling her eyes at her former best friend. She gracefully swept up the steps to join Marinette at the back of the classroom and whispered to her, “Aren’t they all digital downloads?”

Marinette, who had started unpacking her bag to prepare for class, inclined her head and gave the blonde a meaningful look that indicated yes, they were indeed all digital downloads. Chloe snickered and started preparing her own side of the desk.

After the fiasco of outing herself as Queen Bee, Chloe had lost the minimal support and tolerances she had been allowed before. It gave her time to truly reflect on how she acted and treated other people. She had since been quietly making amends with those she’d wronged, and the person on the top of that list was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It took time and a lot of effort on Chloe’s part, but she mellowed out and did a lot of growing up. She still spoke her mind, though.

“Huh that’s strange, I got the VIP package too, but mine was a digital pass,” Chloe loudly proclaimed, studying her nails nonchalantly as the rest of the class turned to look up at her.

Lila grit her teeth into a forced smile and replied sweetly, “Well that’s because mine was an original beta testing copy that they had to update for the full game.” She turned her attention to Marinette and a note of false concern crept into her voice. “Oh Marinette, I hope you’ll still have time to come too! I know you’ll be busy this weekend with planning the spring class field trip. It would be such a shame if it didn’t happen because you were too busy playing a video game.”

Marinette suddenly felt very warm under the gazes of the entire class. She stammered out, “Oh-of course we’ll get to go! Don’t worry, I have a meeting with the school board on Monday.” Trust Lila to sniff out the one thing that had slipped below her radar.

Lila’s eyes lit up with an opportunistic gleam. “That’s great! Where will it be?”

“Well, uh, the school board has to review the location, so I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I can tell you that it will be in, um,” her eyes flicked around wildly and landed on the posterboard of different flags from the prior week’s lessons. “America!”

The class burst into excited chatter moments before Madame Bustier arrived and the late bell rang. Marinette released a breath and sagged in her seat. Saved by the bell.

Chloe gave her a sidelong glance and murmured, “America, huh?”

“Shut up,” Marinette shot back.

* * *

Madame Bustier tried to get the class to pay attention, she really did. They struggled through their lessons before lunch, the volume of side conversations between deskmates swelling all the while. The moment the bell for lunch dismissal rang, the students exploded into conversation as they left the classroom.

Marinette waved as Chloe and Adrien walked off to go meet Kagami and Luka at a nearby cafe. She breezed into the patisserie across the street from Francois Dupont and gave her surprised Maman a kiss on the cheek.

“I thought you were going out with your friends for lunch?” Sabine asked, balancing a tray of eclairs on her hip. “I forgot I have to plan our class trip!” Marinette replied cheerfully as she hurried into the kitchen to quickly fix herself a croque-monsieur. She gave her Papa a hug as she finished preparing her meal. He shouted up at her to not make a mess as she retreated into her room to eat at her desk.

She gave a small snort at that. It was nearly impossible for her to make a mess of food when she had over a dozen Kwami there to clean up after her, but he didn’t know that. She greeted said Kwami with a delighted grin and a wave as she set her plate down by her desktop computer.

“Marinette, why are you back so early?” Tikki asked, “is everything okay?” The other Kwami swarmed around her as she woke her computer up and logged in.

The girl waved one hand nonchalantly and opened up a web browser with the other. “Everything’s fine, I just forgot about planning the class trip!” She took a huge bite of the sandwich and started typing furiously. Several Kwami dove after the crumbs that sprayed everywhere.

“Ohhh, I see! Do you have an idea of where to start?” Tikki zoomed around Marinette’s shoulder to hover next to the monitor screen.

Marinette had the same determined gleam in her eye as when she finally found the perfect fabric for a design. She said confidently around a mouth full of ham, “America.”

* * *

By the time the lunch break had finished, Marinette had a preliminary list of cities on the East Coast of the United States. She had researched Gotham first, but it looked far too dangerous and gloomy. Next was New York City, which she determined was too big. Philadelphia was historic, but in a way that would definitely bore her classmates. Boston was too cold despite its excitement. Which left Metropolis as the perfect candidate. It was also protected by the perfect superheroes, Superman and his family, so she was absolutely confident the school board would approve of the city.

Of course, the meeting on Monday would need more specifics than just the city, but she was pleased with her progress so far. Marinette shut down her monitor, grabbed her backpack and plate from lunch, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She quickly scrubbed and dried her plate in the sink before waving to her parents as they bustled around, accommodating the tail end of the mid-day rush.

Marinette walked across the street with a spring in her step and, spotting a tall flash of blue hair, half-jogged up to her group of friends.

“Hey guys, sorry I couldn’t make it to lunch!” She grinned apologetically at Kagami and Luka.

“That’s alright Melody,” Luka gave her a side hug, “Chloe told us you were busy planning your class trip.”

Adrien slung an arm around Kagami’s shoulder and pulled his girlfriend closer to whisper conspiratorially to her, “I hear we’re going to America.” She laughed softly at his antics and at Marinette who stuck her tongue out at him. Kagami then said to Marinette, “That sounds delightful, Marihime. I trust you will still be joining us tomorrow morning?”

Marinette’s eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of playing the game with her friends all weekend long. “Definitely! I’m going to finish preparing for the school board meeting tonight so that we can play the second it comes out.”

“If you can wake up on time,” Chloe teased.

Marinette crossed her arms defensively and stated with pride, “I already set three alarms, thank you very much!”

Adrien burst out laughing at that. “Leave it to our everyday Ladybug,” he winked. Her face flushed as she pouted. He chuckled again and kissed Kagami on the top of her head. “See you later, mon coeur.”

She and Luka waved to the rest of the group as they left to return to their own schools. The three Francois Dupont students watched them go for a moment before returning inside.

“So, you and Kagami have plans?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah! Our parents gave special permission for a sleepover at my place tonight so we can play the game right when it comes out tomorrow.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had never quite abandoned. “But I’m not sure how often we’ll be able to be online with you guys after this weekend. You know how busy our schedules are....”

Marinette elbowed him lightly as they walked. “It’s a blessing you both managed to convince your dad and her mom to let you come to the launch at all! We’ll play together when we can, it’s no big deal.”

Adrien smiled gratefully at her and held the door open for both Marinette and Chloe as they entered the classroom. Alya was already there, and once she spotted her best friend (well, one of them), she skidded down the steps with a huge grin and held an invisible microphone up to Marinette.

“Thank you Nadja, and good afternoon Paris! This is Alya Cesaire, and today I am joined by young fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, can you give us an exclusive scoop on the trip you’re planning for your class?”

“Good afternoon Mlle. Cesaire,” Marinette giggled, “Unfortunately, the trip has yet to be approved by the school board so no details just yet. But I can tell you with certainty that we will be visiting the resident city of some popular American superheroes.” She winked as she finished in her best interview voice.

Alya gasped and dropped her pretend microphone as she hugged her best friend. “Really!? Oh my gosh girl, you are the best!”

Marinette laughed and hugged her back as Alya jumped and spun them around. Once they pulled apart, she told the brunette, “As soon as the school board gives me the green light, you’ll be the first to know.”

The late bell rang and the girls practically skipped to their respective seats as Madame Bustier called the class to attention. Well, “attention” in the loosest sense of the word. They struggled once more through the majority of their lessons, but Madame Bustier seemed to sense defeat and she let them chatter excitedly for the last twenty minutes before dismissal.

Kim and Alix were boasting about how they were going to stay up all night, while Max encouraged them to maximize the time they would be able to play the next day by getting a full night’s sleep in before the launch time.

Lila bragged about her role in the creation of the game from its conception to even having suggested the highly anticipated date of release. Adrien pointedly ignored Lila in the row behind his and discussed the music they had recorded and mixed for the game with a very enthusiastic Nino.

Sabrina looked on a little sadly until Mylene, Ivan, Rose, and Juleka invited her to join their Disney movie marathon double-date instead. Mylene was too nervous to play the game so Ivan chose to sit out to support her, and video games weren’t really Rose and Juleka’s style. Sabrina’s face softened as she gratefully accepted their invitation.

Nathaniel turned around in his seat to talk to Marinette about the art rendering and the programs they used while Chloe scrolled aimlessly on her phone.

By the time the bell finally rang, the class was beyond excited to go prepare for the launch the next morning.

Marinette, to her credit, swallowed her enthusiasm and sat down to fully plan out their trip to Metropolis. It was grueling work, researching the safest hotel that was still in a central location. It had to be affordable but not shabby, too, because they had a limited budget. She eventually settled on the reputable Wayne Hotel, apparently part of an enormous corporation called Wayne Enterprises, and then began to build an itinerary with different events from there.

She worked nonstop the rest of the night, with the exception of a brief dinner break, and it was nearly 11:00 at night by the time she finished. Marinette sat up from her desk chair and stretched, then double-checked that her alarms were set before finally heading to bed.

#marinette dupain cheng #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #maribat #maribat fic #healing hands

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