#-so i could give you the most heartfelt answer i dare to muster on here

[spotsupstuff]

hi! ive been noticing your posts for a while now and ive been thinking about getting into rain world... would you mind telling me a bit about it? if not that's okay! im just curious cuz all these characters you've been drawing look really really good and it's kinda getting me hooked!

hmm hmmmm.... well what could i say... i'll talk about what i love about it because rain world is a wonderful game that i will never stop recommending to people, i think

i adore how "unfair" to usual game standards RW is. it makes it feel like there isn't really a point when you can call yourself a pro, when someone else can call you a noob after youve familiarized yourself with the controls. there isnt really an measurement of skill, sure you can look into some absolutely insane movement techs but the wonderful thing is that they are, at the end of it all, not important

i adore that the moment you accept the fact that this is just how this ecosystem works, you get to find such strange kind of joy out of it. i adore that the game is so loose about so many things including its lore because i can look at this "accept it when you die to become happier" thing and say that it could potentially mirror what the characters in the game (Ancients) should have figured out

i adore the religion in the game, the fact that it takes inspiration from Buddhism, i adore the karma symbols, what they mean, how they are written, how i can interpret them. the fact that i can look at this game and see something so very close to my own believes about life makes me so so happy

i adore the settings, the design, the vastness of the world both pictured and not, the impossibilities hiding in this world. the feeling of everything being so much it makes me want to cry everytime i take in how simply Giant the iterators are

everything is so big but small at the same time. the most breath-taking things become common and insignificant. the most insignificant things affect the most significant, holy ones, reducing objects and people of Unimaginable power and importance into nothing but desolate scrapheaps of nonsense. and yet these unnoteworthy scrapheaps circle back to being something precious but only to us. even though hes a wrackage, even though he is nothing more but trash now, we still love him because unimpressive things deserve to be loved too

i like to think that with some things in this game, something whispers "you're nothing. i love you. what happens to you affects me. you are nothing and i hope others will see the worth in you and love you too"

i adore the designs, i adore the glow of the overseer in the dark in the Monk campaign, i adore and fear the power of the rain, Moon's and Pebbles babbling and buzzing of their innards. i adore the glances we get of their cities, of the past, of the dead yet dear culture, whispers of history, the form of writing, even those stupid ads in Metropolis

i love hearing the opinions of both Moon and Pebbles. hearing from Suns makes me smile even though i want nothing else but to square up with them. thinking of No Significant Harassment and his easy humour even in such a place- his seemingly endless care, his struggles, anger, despair, mischievousness- the confusion and helplessness of something like them, a god brought to his knees- another glorious hard to comprehend impossibility

rain world is so wonderful and the more deeper you try to think about it and figure out what's happening where, why and how the more fun it is going to become

the best thing with RW you can honestly do is just dive in there and make your own opinions on all of these things. i hope u'll be able to take my wonder with you and use it to develop your own unique ideas of it!

n here's two fools vibin together

[barzyyy]

I’m hella in my feels. Break my heart.

one too many.

a/n: prepare yourselves for this one. TW: includes mention of death, alcohol/heavy drinking and self-depricating thoughts. it is heavy. please read at your own discretion. my dm’s are open if anyone needs to talk!

italics = flashback.

read this first, if you haven’t already.

————————————

mat could feel the alcohol meeting his stomach. when did he become this way? he knew that he was not in a condition to be drinking as much as he was. he hadn’t eaten in at least a day. somehow the simplest tasks have become the most difficult.

it didn’t help that it was the offseason. all of his teammates were off on vacation. the jealousy quickly turned into resentment. he deleted all of his social media apps because he couldn’t bear to see anyone else happy. he locked himself inside your once shared house, alone. what used to feel like home now felt unsafe. with every corner he turned, there was something that reminded him of you. lipstick on the counter, your shoes kicked off next to the couch, he left them all in the same spot, praying that this was all a dream and that you would come walking through the door again.

he couldn’t get himself to come to terms with reality.

he drunkely stumbled to the couch, mindlessly turning on the tv and surfing through the channels. he landed on a random channel because his thoughts were overtaking him once again.

mat dreamed of being a dad. you both used to talk about starting a family of your own. would your kids have mat’s hair and your eyes? which one of your personalities would they adopt? he wanted so badly to look through the glass at a game and see you standing on the other side with your baby. he wanted to raise a son and teach him all he knew about how to play. he wanted a little girl to put makeup on him and make him sing the songs of all of her favorite disney princesses.

now, he didn’t want a family at all. you were going perfect mother. no one could ever compete with you. and now that you’re gone, he promised himself that no one would ever take your place. sure, he could have kids with someone else, but they would never be the kids he would have had with you. he didn’t want it.

it was easier to put up a wall and block out the feelings. his grief of losing you was too much for him to handle. he would rather just push everything out, experiencing nothing rather than experiencing everything all at once. every time he thought of you, another part of him was taken away. he was a shell of who he once was.

things would have been different if he had went home to you. had he not gone out to the bar with his teammates after the game, you would have never been in the accident. there would have been no reason for you to go over to your friend’s house. now, instead of remembering the celebratory reason why he went out, his memory was plagued by the phone call he received as he got the worst news of his life.

mat could feel the alcohol meeting his stomach. who was he to turn down free alcohol? getting the game winning goal in game 7 made him feel like he was on top of the world. fans in the bar were covering mat’s tab, and he was partying with all of his teammates. out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up with your caller i.d. and his favorite picture of the two of you. he picked it up and started walking through the mass of people to find a quieter place as he answered the call.

“babe, you won’t believe how many people are here! everyone is buying me drinks and-“

“hello?”

the manly voice was unrecognizable. mat stopped in his tracks.

“who is this?” he questioned.

“this is tom haltford, i’m a paramedic with the long island fire department. do you have a relationship with (y/n) barzal?” he asked.

he immediately sobered up. “she’s my wife, what is going on?” his heart was beating out of his chest.

“sir, i regret to inform you that your wife was in an accident. she was in a head-on collision with an impaired driver. she is currently being transported to nassau university medical center. do you have a safe way of getting there? i can send a police officer to pick you up.”

mat could only muster one sentence.

“is she alive?”

silence.

“i am sending an officer to your location. i am so sorry.”

what brought him out of his trance was the feeling of tears hitting his hand. he had not realized that he was crying, but did nothing to stop the onset of emotions that were to come. he buried his head in his hands, taking in the weight of the fact that you would have still been here had he not decided to go out. his shoulders heaved, but he stayed silent. he sobbed for a half an hour straight.

silence was something mat was becoming all too familiar with. he could no longer listen to the radio because every song he heard remided him of you. he didn’t dare go outside, because he couldn’t stop the jealousy that arose when he saw a couple out together. the best he could do was stay at home. his interaction was limited. when he did eat, all he did was get it delivered. even then, his options were scarce because he didn’t want to eat anything that felt significant to your relationship. he no longer ordered take out from your shared favorite thai restaurant down the street. he avoided anything that remided himself of you.

he would have teammates, family and friends text him every now and again to check in. he made it a point at your funeral to promise that he would reach out if he needed help. deep down, he knew from the beginning that those promises were as hollow as the newly-formed void in his heart.

maybe the irony of it all was that what killed you was the same thing he was using to self medicate. over time, one beer turned into to three, then six. he felt as if it was his only escape - alcohol only solidifed the numbness that he had been feeling. but tonight, he knew that he had gone overboard. there were freshly-chugged beer bottles on the table, and the only thing stopping him from taking some of your sleeping pills was his hope that you would come back for them. in addition to the beer, he was down a glass and a half of wine when his body finally began to reject the liquid. he tried to run to the bathroom, but the closest place he could make it was the kitchen sink. his stomach uncontrollably emptied itself, and he was left gasping in between his heaves. when he was done, he ran his hands under the sink and put water on his face. pulling the kitchen towel from the oven to wipe off his face, he looked up and his eyes were met with the picture on your counter from the wedding.

he was in immediate tears as he saw you walking down the aisle. your dress perfectly hugged your curves and your smile had been the biggest he’d ever seen. he felt a soft nudge from behind him.

”stay strong man, stay strong.” beau whispered, trying to help mat preserve any ounce that was left of his ego.

“bro, i can’t.” he whispered back, tears running down his face. at that point, you began to cry, and then the whole room was crying.

you both struggled through the tears to read eachother your vows. you were so impressed with how heartfelt his were.

“you helped me learn who i was outside of hockey, and i still fall in love with you every single day. ...and you’re a smokin’ 10, too. so that’s a plus.”

the after party was absolutely insane. you danced and drank the night away with your closest family and friends. you were talking to your best friend when mat came stumbling over to you, hugged you and said “can you believe we’re fucking MARRIED BABE?”

that was it. he couldn’t give up on life anymore. who he was becoming was scaring him. he knew that this is not what you would want. with a shaking hand and a breaking heart, he haphazardly picked up his phone and dialed the first number he could think of. there was an answer halfway through the first ring.

“hey man, you all good?”

inbetween sobs, his words slurred together. “beau, i need you.”

——————————————————

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Seven)

Chapter Seven: Sweet Fulfilment

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The silence that fell upon them in Rossi’s backyard was so heavy, no one dared to break it. Derek was brave enough to stand and follow Y/N into the house, most likely to drive her home. The rest received the message and began to dwindle away, until only Ashley and Spencer were left.

Spencer absentmindedly fiddled with the top of his cane, still stunned into silence from Y/N’s heavy confession. He could feel Ashley’s eyes on him, but didn’t bother looking at her. His mind was racing ten times faster than it ever had before.

Ashley breathed out a sigh and kept it simple and straightforward, “Do you love her?” She asked softly. 

He wished to hear some malice in her tone, thinking it might make him feel something other than shock, but all he heard was curiosity. He didn’t even have to think to find the answer, but which answer was he willing to give?

“Yes.” He said, not even having the audacity to see the reaction it brought upon her eyes. 

He should have felt horrible for hurting Ashley, but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to feel anything but relief as he replayed Y/N’s words in his head. He heard her move to stand up and remained motionless as she left him on the couch. She went inside and Spencer deduced that she’d probably already taken her car and returned home. He’d have to find a different ride home but that was the least of his problems right now.

No one knew what to tell him as he passed them in the spacious living room a half hour later. No one knew where to start with him, but their unrelated hushed conversations continued on. Y/N had stupefied them all, but him especially. His heart should have been soaring because of her confession, but he knew he’d have to give Ashley a proper goodbye. She deserved one, even though he had quite literally used her in the most ungentlemanly of ways. He hadn’t let themselves get too invested in the relationship, though. He’d always kept her at arm’s length for fear of getting too attached. 

The next day, he’d promptly gone to her apartment and given a heartfelt apology. She’d let him know how hurt she was and that she was not going to be returning to the BAU. He still felt bad, but once again, he felt like he could breathe. Like the air knew its way back to his lungs. 

The weekend came and went, silence on both ends. Both lovers just stewing in their own pots. Both pots teeming with unadulterated, unconditional love and affection for one another. It could barely be contained at this point. Time seemed to float by and before they knew it they were back in the office. A new month had just begun. She felt new, she felt like she’d peeled off a layer of her skin, one that had been holding her back, trapping her within the confines of herself.

With the new month, she was called in early to have the routine monthly meeting with Hotch where they went over the itinerary of the next month. They liked to plan whatever they could given that half of the BAU’s job was unpredictable.

“So, I have here the form that Strauss asked for. Also, the 6th floor’s printer is a literal piece of junk and I’ve typed up a formal proposal so that maybe we could get a new one? I coordinated with Penelope about the funds and she says there are sufficient funds for a new printer.” Y/N said, handing Hotch a typed document. 

Even after all these years, her dedication to this job continues to blow him away. He’d come to see her as a work-daughter. He has taught her so much over the past few years and he’ll always have a special place in her heart. He nodded, glancing over the document.

“Great, I trust you and Penelope will pick an adequate printer.” He paused, sending her a smile. He noticed the slight glimmer in her eye, “I know you’ve been having a rough few months, Y/N, and it’s not technically my place to get involved in your personal life, as your boss, but as your friend, I hope you know that I am available to help you in any way I possibly can.”

Her whole face formed into a fond smile, “Thanks, Hotch and yes, I know.” She chuckled slightly.

“You are a dedicated employee and a wonderful person. If you ask me--” He was interrupted by his office door slamming open, showcasing an absolutely beaming Dr. Spencer Reid in the doorway.

“Hotch, I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Spencer’s eyes flew from Hotch to Y/N, his attention now zeroed in on her. He leaned into the office, not fully entering, “are you free for dinner tonight?” he asked in a rushed manner, as if not getting a fast answer would somehow make him lose all the confidence he’d mustered up.

“M-me? Yes! I mean, yes, I’m free tonight.” Y/N answered, flustered at the interruption as well as the question. Spencer’s face split into a grin and he tapped the doorframe once awkwardly.

“Great, then...it’s a date.” He raised his brows and tried to lessen his grin as he snuck a glance at Hotch before gracelessly forming his lips into a line and scurrying out of the small office.

Y/N turned back to Hotch quickly with eyes widened with disbelief and a face totally failing to contain the utter joy she felt, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Hotch only responded with a knowing smile at the precious interaction he’d just witnessed firsthand.

First dates were supposed to be awkward, however, their first date was anything but. Spencer had showed up with a fresh haircut, his shoulder length hair cut into a dreamy, swoopy style that sat along his forehead comfortably. It was so much more attractive than Y/N could outwardly-or inwardly- admit. His knee was now fully healed and no longer needed his cane which allowed them to walk around the city freely.

They’d both realized how stupid and blind they’ve been over the years. Y/N confessed to feeling especially stupid for staying with Anderson for so long, even when she had realized her true feelings for Spencer. Time had passed them by like it was nothing. 

Spencer, like the true gentleman he is, insisted he’d walk her home. He’d feel more comfortable knowing she was safe, not to mention that he was extremely curious about her new apartment. He hadn’t expected Y/N to invite him in, but of course she did, because that was who she was. She was warm and inviting, and if she was being honest, she didn’t want the night to end yet.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I haven’t really been in the right headspace these past few weeks.” She said, walking him inside. He took a look around and noticed a few unpacked boxes out of place but he definitely wouldn’t characterize it as messy. 

He chuckled softly and shrugged, “Trust me, it’s fine.” Her shoulders dropped with relief slightly and she returned his lightheartedness by smiling and flopping onto the couch.

“It’s been so long since I’ve lived on my own. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the silence.” Y/N said, but only realized how sad it must have sounded after she said it. Spencer took a seat next to her on her small, but comfortable couch.

“I feel quite the opposite, I think I’ve been living on my own for--for a long time.” He said, thinking back to his days but pushing away the especially dark parts. 

She dared to glance at him, seeing him in her space was so...different. So refreshing. It’s like this apartment needed Spencer in it for it to feel complete. Or maybe that was her heart speaking. Maybe both the apartment and her heart needed Spencer to feel whole. Her glance had long been forgotten and had turned into a longing gaze instead.

“Spencer, I-” She gazed at him, feeling the words get caught up in her throat before she could have had the chance to voice them. Besides, what words would ever be able to convey the way she felt towards him? 

Words escaped her when he looked at her like that--all soft eyes and a fond, lopsided smile, despite his curiosity at her interrupted sentence. She made the mistake of glancing at his lips, the lips that were so appealing, practically calling her name. The ones she’d caught herself daydreaming about for years and years on end. His proximity was intoxicating and before she could doubt herself, she closed the gap between them, her hands attaching themselves to the lapels of his blazer to pull him ever so slightly closer.

His lips were just as warm and inviting as she’d remembered them, but this time the kiss tasted sweeter, it was no longer tainted with suppressed guilt and confusion. His lips tasted like certainty. It was clear that she’d finally found what she’d been missing all these years. The gentle push and pull of the kiss was invigorating to them both. His slightly calloused hands found her flushed cheeks, each thumb delicately caressing the delicate skin beneath the pads of his fingers. They’d savored the kiss so much that when they pulled away, two, three, four tender, short kisses followed the initial one.

Almost as if they’d never get enough of each other. Like if the world was ending, it wouldn’t matter, they’d go peacefully, knowing that this is what it was like. That this is what quenched thirst felt like.

“I love you.” She murmured against his lips, breath uneven. She’d known it for as long as she could remember and he’d known it too, but she was past the point of timidness to admit it now. There’s no use in prolonging it, not when she was this certain. 

The pad of his thumb traced a line across her jaw slowly as he heard the words. His face couldn’t contain his smile, teeth almost clashing into each other from their closeness. His warm, amber eyes flitted to hers, visible comfort and reassurance filling his irises. He was transported back to Rossi’s garden when he’d first told her he loved her. She knew, she knew he loved her too, which is why it was so easy.

“I love you, too.” He murmured back, pressing another passionate kiss to her lips, as a quiet admission of love. She could feel the tears gather underneath her closed lids almost as quickly as relief flooded her chest.

They’d decided to keep things under the radar for a while, neither of them too eager to showcase their relationship to the world just yet, excluding Hotch of course. They did their best anyway--or at least they thought they did. Their recent smiley faces and cheery attitudes were not invisible to America’s top profilers and well, Penelope, who was perhaps the sharpest of them all, despite not being trained to analyze behavior like the others.

Exactly two weeks after their first date, Penelope cornered Y/N at her desk around lunchtime, right before the two lovebirds took their daily lunch walk. 

“Spill.” Penelope demanded, her colorful teapot earrings swayed, contradicting the sternness in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N gazed up at her with genuine confusion.

“Uh-uh, don’t give me that. I know something fishy is going on. I can smell it.” Penelope leaned in closer and began pointing fingers. Y/N barked a laugh.

“Garcia, nothing is going on. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” She laughed, amused at the sight of her friend being so outwardly nosey.

“You think I haven’t noticed you and Boy Wonder--” She was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat noise from Spencer to announce his presence.

“Garcia, Derek said something about making hot chocolate in the kitchenette and you know how he dips the sugar spoon back into the chocolate mix? Yeah, you should probably--” Spencer lied through his teeth but Penelope wasted no time in rushing off to the kitchenette, groaning about how she hated finding extra sugar in the chocolate.

Spencer caught Y/N’s eye and they both burst out laughing. They quickly made their exit, whispering about how close of a call it was with Garcia. Little did they know, Rossi had caught every little bit of the very tender, intimate kiss they shared before the doors of the empty elevator had closed, leaving him shaking his head at the obliviousness of the two. 

The team decided to make a game out of it very quickly when they all realized. They wanted to see which of them could expose the couple the quickest.

 JJ found extreme joy in trying to set Y/N up with one of Will’s friends right in front of Spencer.

“Come on! This guy’s totally your type, Y/N.” JJ pushed, showing her a picture of a man on her phone, leaning towards her over the top of her desk. Y/N laughed uncomfortably and glanced with panic at Spencer who was watching curiously.

“I don’t know, I d-don’t think I have a type, JJ.” She tried to brush her off, continuing to laugh in discomfort. Emily and Derek almost split their lips as they bit them to try and keep from laughing. They watched Spencer shift nervously in his seat.

“I’m just not interested.” Y/N said, “Thanks, though.” JJ finally gave in and accepted that she’d lost the bet.

Emily tried her hand at “girl-talk”, hoping that maybe Y/N would slip up and tell her about Spencer, but to no avail. That woman’s lips were sealed shut.

Derek and Penelope both tried to follow them around but Spencer and Y/N were far too cautious at work now. Derek actually had to convince Penelope to take the moral high road and refrain from tracking their devices or hacking into their messages.

After trying and failing for so long, the team finally gave up on trying to rat them out and instead decided to respectfully wait for their announcement. 

Y/N realized that she hadn’t technically invited anyone over to her new apartment and decided to throw a somewhat delayed “welcoming party” for herself. She’d cooked dinner, which Spencer did his best to contribute to, decorated the place nicely, and invited the whole team over.

“Thank you all so much for being here. I know this has been a long time coming. I’ve missed our little get-togethers and thought it’d be fitting if I finally host one, given that I now have my own apartment.” Y/N spoke from her place at the head of the dinner table which had barely ever been used before this night. It was a tight squeeze, but her heart soared as she saw the faces of her caring coworkers and friends staring up at her. They all lifted their glasses and gave her a silent toast of appreciation.

Spencer stood from his seat that was to the right of Y/N’s and cleared his throat, “Also, we have an announcement to make.” He timidly began, catching the eager smiles. “Y/N and I are, finally, together.” He waited for the cheers of excitement but nothing but an eerie knowing silence befell the dinner table.

Something clicked in Y/N’s brain as she spotted Rossi handing Hotch something under the table not-so-discreetly, “You all knew?!” She gasped in disbelief. The team broke out into fits of laughter.

“The whole time!” Garcia guffawed. Spencer and Y/N shared a look of incredulity before breaking into laughter themselves. Y/N shyly hid her face in Spencer’s shoulder as he wrapped an affectionate arm around her back.

“You guys thought you were so sneaky.” Derek threw his head back, laughing.

“Wait, so what was all that about?” Y/N asked, referring to Rossi handing Hotch something, “You guys had a bet going?”

“Technically there were two bets going. Everyone else was determined to expose you, which they all failed at, thankfully, while Rossi and I had a separate bet. I said that you’d announce it first and Rossi apparently had more faith in the team.” Hotch explained, smirking triumphantly at Rossi, who appeared delighted despite having lost the bet.

“Bet or not, you two deserve each other. I’m glad you two are happy together. To the lovely couple.” Rossi raised his glass and everyone followed in pursuit.

Spencer turned to Y/N to place a sweet but chaste kiss on her lips, leading everyone to cheer in response.

There was little he could compare to the feeling he had then, but if he had to, he’d compare it to being whole.

previous chapter/epilogue

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thank you all for joining the ride, feedback is always appreciated!

[dudeandduchess]

Hi there! Anon here..lol So, I have a request for Iguro Obanai (• ▽ •) MC (preferably female) low-key declares Mitsuri a love rival (oh Lord! ヘ（。□°）ヘ) Reader is mad extra - she just wants to be noticed by snek papi! She greets him with his favorite treats every pillar meeting -but look! He didn't even notice! She offers to go on missions with him - oh..Mitsuri already volunteered? After pining after him for so long she starts to back off... until he confesses. Turns out Mitsuri (1/2)

Ahhh, hello, bby! Okay, I had so much fun writing this as well. Bc hey, it’s mild angst and I’ve always loved writing angsty stuff. And no worries at all; I kind of like having a rough guideline to go by, bc it lessens the strain of having to figure out a mild subplot. But anything’s fine with me. Ahaha. Thank you sooo much for requesting this, and I hope you like it. :D xx

***

Reader Having a Crush on Iguro and Declaring Kanroji as a Rival (SFW Scenario):

“I don’t care, nee-chan. Mitsuri’s my rival for Obanai’s love�� and there’s nothing that you can say that will make me change my mind,” (Y/n) declared irately, as she sat next to her sister on the engawa. Both of them were snacking on senbei, but it was more like (Y/n) was demolishing the crispy treats with every bite.

“You’re approaching this from a very immature perspective, (Y/n),” Akane— the older one of the (L/n) siblings— mused in a knowing manner. “Isn’t she your friend? You’re the Lightning Hashira; you’re supposed to set an example.”

Completely undeterred from her declaration, (Y/n) shook her head, before gnashing another chunk of senbei between her teeth. “She was my friend; until she started being too friendly with Obanai. They’re always together! And whenever Oyakata-sama asks for volunteers to go with Obanai, she’s always the first one to get chosen. It’s unfair!”

Akane chuckled at her sister’s predicament, then reached out and patted the top of her head. “If it’s so unfair, then why don’t you just move on to someone else? That boy who always visits you is cute. What was his name… uh… Rengoku?”

“Kyō-chan is like a brother to me. He doesn’t make me feel the way Obanai does.”

“Well, if you put it like that… then, try one more time. And then promise me that you’re going to stop trying to get him to notice you, if your attempt today fails. Okay, (Y/n)?” With those words hanging in the air, Akane pulled her sister close to her and laid her head on her shoulder. She then began stroking (Y/n)’s hair, more to comfort her than anything else.

“It’s just not fair, nee-chan. I loved him first.”

“That’s love, (Y/n). You know what okaa-san used to tell us, remember?” Akane began softly, as she kept lightly scratching her nails against the Hashira’s scalp.

And, after a brief pause, the sisters simultaneously spoke— with the younger one being more sullen than usual, “Some people are sent to you by the gods, so that they can teach you what you need to learn. While some people are given to you by the gods, so they can take care of you forever. There’s no telling whom was sent for what, so you will have to trust your own instincts and know when to keep on fighting, and when to give up.”

***

Once the hour for the Hashira meeting had rolled around, (Y/n) could not hold in her nerves. She walked into the garden at the Demon Slayer Headquarters, with her head held high and her back ramrod straight— all while her fingers curled tightly around the bento she had made for Obanai.

She’d paid particular attention to which foods he liked and disliked, and with every meeting, she always brought a bento for him. Only, he never seemed to notice her efforts— so she always ended up giving the bentos to Rengoku.

Her gaze roamed around the expansive space, only to land on the man who made her heart race: Iguro Obanai.

Iguro was lounging on his favorite tree in the garden, when he spotted (Y/n). She was carrying another bento, and was headed straight for him— which caused a blush to immediately flare up across his cheeks.

“Hello, Obanai-san,” The Lightning Hashira greeted with a bright smile. She then held up the bento in her hands, with the same sincere affection he’d always picked up from her. “I made this for you.”

While (Y/n) may have looked calm and collected on the outside, she wanted to scream on the inside. Every second that passed with Iguro just staring at her made her nervous and sad; it gnawed a hole in her heart, which she knew she was most likely never going to mend.

The pair stared at each other, with (Y/n)’s smile slowly faltering. And when the Snake Hashira made no move to get the proffered container, that was when (Y/n) knew that it was time to give up.

So, with a gracious bow, she whispered— all while barely restraining her urge to cry, “Sorry for wasting your time, Iguro-san.”

And with those words, she turned on her heel and walked away from him with as much dignity as she could muster.

Even though she wanted to just lay down on her bed and cry her heart out, she couldn’t— because she still had a meeting to attend.

Of course she sat through the entire meeting, with her comrades shooting her and Iguro some weird looks. As (Y/n) was extremely tuned in to their boring topic of internal budgets, when before she would shamelessly shoot adoring gazes at the Snake Hashira, whom sat beside her.

Iguro could also feel the change in the air. Frankly, it unnerved him, as he had always harbored feelings for (Y/n) but was just too shy to confess to her. He feared that he may have accidentally dealt the final blow to their nonexistent relationship with his inept reaction earlier.

He had been so tongue-tied that he couldn’t muster up the energy— or the brain cells— to make his hands move. His heart had pounded so hard in his chest, because the woman he’d always liked had made another effort to garner his affections.

Little did she know that she already had them.

And once the meeting was over, Iguro was sure that he had singlehandedly ruined the one good thing he’d had with (Y/n).

She tried to be discreet about it, but it was obvious to him that she was avoiding him. Hell, it pissed him off; but the proverbial icing on the cake was when she gave the bento— which was filled with food for him— to the Flame Hashira.

Iguro wanted to scream when he saw that transpire with his own eyes. And then he wanted to shove Rengoku aside, when he saw the other man laugh heartily before wrapping his arms around (Y/n).

“I told you to confess to her already,” Kanroji’s familiar voice echoed in Iguro’s ears.

Anger bubbled up within the young man at his friend’s suggestion; anger at himself, not anger towards her. He had been too stubborn and shy to act on his own feelings, which was why he felt like (Y/n) had suddenly given up on him.

He could only look on as (Y/n) and Rengoku exchanged banter, and when a loud and heartfelt laugh bubbled from her lips, something snapped within him— and he found himself walking towards her.

“Oh, hello, I-” (Y/n) couldn’t even finish her flaky sentence, as Iguro had turned her to face him and slammed his lips against hers. It was kind of awkward with his bandages in the way, but it served to get the reaction he wanted: her face flushed and her eyes misty with desire.

However, even with (Y/n)’s heart pounding frantically inside her chest, irritation and mild embarrassment simmered within her. “How dare you-!?”

Once more, she was cut off when the Snake Hashira spoke over her, “I like you, (Y/n). I’ve always liked you.”

Wide-eyed and completely in shock, the young woman’s eyes darted from the man in front of her, to the Love Hashira who stood a few paces away behind him. “But you and Mitsuri-chan… you two…”

“She was helping me find a way to confess to you,” Obanai answered her unspoken question, which made a blush color her cheeks— all the way up to the tips of her ears.

“I… well… this is awkward,” (Y/n) whispered under her breath, which was still heard by all their comrades. And when she heard the first few vestiges of laughter, it suddenly dawned on her that she and Iguro hadn’t exactly been private with their altercation.

[bb8sworld]

what can’t be spoken

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: it is said that we will fall in love three times in our lives, with the third one being our greatest love. but how can we be certain?

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this is my first proper obi fic, so i hope you enjoy! the title is inspired by this song from les mis. this isn’t exactly a song fic, but some themes were written when listening to it (if that intrigues you). there’s a rollercoaster of feelings here, so be prepared for that. also, it’s a weird hodge-podge of fluffy plot at the start and angsty introspection towards the end, but i hope you give it a chance anyway!

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ --

You had snuck into Obi-Wan’s quarters as you usually do when quiet sets over the Jedi Temple and the sun takes reprieve in the sky. The two of you greeted each other with a sweet kiss as you used the Force to close the door behind you. (“How frivolous,” he told you with a playful smirk before you shut him up with your lips on his once more. There were no critiques about your use of the Force after that.)

Excitement coursed through his veins at finally being able to hold you close to him after being separated for what seemed like an eternity (though it was only a couple weeks). With both of you being Jedi, it was common throughout your relationship to be separated for weeks at a time as you were sent on different missions. It was never easy to be so far apart for extended periods of time, but this, this coming home reunion, this well of love between you two, this devotion and understanding of what you just faced, was enough to keep you both going through the distance. It became your drive to make it out of each battle alive. To live to see another day. To come home. And finally, you had gotten back from your mission earlier that day and you were in his arms once more where he could keep you safe and protected (though you hardly needed his protection in the first place).

There was a usual routine any time either of you came back from a mission: you would meet in one of your rooms, catch up over a cup of tea, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Though, if the tea happened to get cold before either of you finished in favor of reacquainting yourselves with the taste of the other and tenderly mapping the lines and curves of your bodies through gentle caresses, then that was neither here nor there.

You were sitting on the couch in Obi-Wan’s quarters, staring over the back of the couch at some spot in the kitchen as your lover dug through the cabinets. As he muddled around finding the kettle, two cups, and the tea each of you preferred, Obi-Wan noticed that, instead of your usual chatter of how your mission went or your familiar questioning over what he did when you were gone, you were silent. It looked like you were pondering over something and that whatever it was had deeply consumed your thoughts. Through the Force, he nudged at your mind gently, quietly reassuring you that you could talk to him if you wanted.

Your eyes flicked away from the space you were staring at in the kitchen to meet with his eyes. A moment of silence had passed before you smiled softly at him.

“You know I love you, right?” you asked.

At your question, he nearly laughed at how out of the blue it was. But he held his laughter in and traded it for a fond smile that he sent your way.

“Of course I know, my dear. I am as sure of your love as I am sure that there are two suns on Tatooine or that Anakin hates sand or that you adore when I wear my cloak,” he replied earnestly, the very laughter he held back underlying some of his words. By now he had filled the kettle with water and had left it to start boiling.

You gave a laugh at his comment. “I do love you in your cloak,” you remark quietly before you sigh. “But I’m serious, Obi-Wan. If something were to happen to me, I don’t want you to have the slightest doubt that I love you.”

The familiar drop in his stomach occurred at the thought of something happening to you—at you getting injured, being in pain, or dying. Maker above, he doesn’t know what he would do if something were to happen to you. Of all the things in his life, you are what matters most to him, and if you were to suddenly not be there anymore, well…he doesn’t like dwelling on that possibility. But still, he pushes away that unbridled fear of you dying and responds with as steady of a voice as he can muster.

“And I don’t have any doubts. I know that you love me and I hope that you know that I love you,” Obi-Wan walks away from the not-yet-piping kettle and empty tea cups to make his way over to the couch. He sits by your side, grabbing onto your hand tightly with one of his own, the other going up to caress your cheek. “You’re the only one who has ever made me feel deeply like this and I don’t regret being with you, loving you, or being loved by you.”

He watches as your entire demeanor softens and tears fill your eyes, but they dare not spill. You pull him to you and softly press your lips against him in a kiss that has him reeling. There’s so much you’re trying to convey in the soft act, so much he picks up on, and he’s almost overwhelmed at your feelings. There’s so much to sort through, but not enough time to investigate before you two separate. He can just barely hear the trembling in your breathing as you exhale. Clearly there’s something more to this that you’re not mentioning, and while he hates forcing you into conversations when you’re feeling uneasy, he thinks it may be worth a shot to try and prod.

“Why are you bringing this up, my love?”

He’s answered by silence, at first. Your free hand grabs his which is still caressing your cheek and you hold on tightly, as if for support. You kiss the back of his hand before pulling it on your lap so you can hold both of his hands in yours. You swallow thickly before you respond, “My recent mission. During one of the battles, I had a brief moment where my life was at a crossroads,” you trail off. Your grip tightens on his hands as the next words come out, “Obi-Wan...love, I almost died.”

Suddenly the hands you were holding onto cling to yours. You both are holding on with a white-knuckled grip as you process what's been said. Obi-Wan swears his heart stops at this knowledge. You had nearly died on this mission, and he would’ve been none the wiser until the report came through or someone contacted the Temple. Despite the clear despair written in his eyes, you mush onward, “Before the fighting outbreak happened, I was approached by some locals and they started talking to me about their lives on their home planet. One thing they kept bringing up was their ‘great loves’ who had fought in battles prior and died,” you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “They explained that their people believe everyone falls in love three times and that the last of these is our greatest love.”

Despite not knowing where you’re going with this, he responds with a quiet “Oh?” to let you know that he’s still listening. 

“And they told me that each love is special. They have different purposes or meanings, I guess. The first is infatuation and idealism. The second, hard and hurting. The third, everlasting…all-consuming…,” again, you pause, “It got me thinking.”

“About?” Obi-Wan asks.

“You,” you state plainly, simply, as if the answer was right there the whole time. You can’t help but smile at him as you continue, “You may be the only man I’ve ever truly loved, but I know that you are my greatest love. And if I were to ever die, I don’t want you to doubt for a second how much I love you or how you mean everything to me.”

It’s as if you’ve punched all the air out of his lungs, and he can’t help but stare at you in disbelief. Sometimes he is jarred by the mere presence of you and how effortlessly you can use your words. He never fails to be in awe over how even the everyday words which fall from your lips seem to turn into pure poetry to his ears. And every time you tell him you love him it’s without hesitation. It’s bold but heartfelt, as if you’re simply stating a fact known by all and not dropping a bombshell that could get both of you kicked out of the Order without a second thought.

That’s one of the many things he loves about you: the way you are so attuned with your feelings and how you use them to your benefit, instead of your demise. You grow from your love, and you’ve taught him how to grow alongside you. How to appreciate the little things. How to be unafraid of this tender, precious thing between you two. Privately, he thinks loving you even makes him a better Jedi, but he has yet to say this aloud. You have completely turned his life upside down and while he was afraid at first, he is no longer scared and relishes in every gentle touch, whispered word, and longing glance sent his way by you.

Though he may be the Negotiator, Obi-Wan always finds himself tongue-tied at your sweet and loving gestures, but he’s come to learn that the best way to express his feelings to you when words aren’t enough is through action. And so, as he stares deeply into your eyes, he can feel tears welling up in his own as overwhelming emotion courses through him. He releases his grip on your hands to pull you close and kiss you, his own hands shaking as he caresses your face.

When the two of you finally do part, he swipes quickly at his cheeks before catching your eye again.

“And you are my greatest love,” Obi-Wan whispers, as if scared to break this moment between the two of you with anything louder. “You have… stolen my heart. Words cannot describe all that I feel for you, my darling.” A deep breath. “But I know with absolute certainty that I love you more than anything else.”

A couple tears escape your eyes and you lean forward, leaning your forehead against his as you both breathe together, absorbing this moment for as long as you can. A few beats later, the kettle finally goes off and the two of you pull back and turn your heads in sync to stare at it before sharing a laugh. Obi-Wan gets up from your side and places a soft kiss on your forehead before going to retrieve the screaming kettle.

As he pours the water into your tea cups, he can’t help but spare a quick glance at you on the couch. You’re looking at him this time. He feels his heart stutter in his chest and his cheeks turn a light pink at the look of absolute love and fondness that you send him. It’s an image he wants nothing more than to have ingrained in his head, a treasured memory to turn to when it looks like the chips are down and he stares at death in the face. Something happy and cherished and beloved to think of before he passes, should that time ever come like he fears it will during the Clone Wars.

And stay with him it does, but instead of it being something he thinks of fondly, it haunts him as he stews in his regret and heartache.

It’s all he can think about tonight as the wind blows in the cold night as he sits alone in the dunes of Tatooine, darkness clouding his vision and an inky blackness covering all feelings within him aside from the residual numbness. He has only been here on Tatooine for a brief period of time—a couple weeks, maybe a month, he can’t remember anymore—but he finds that the days bleed together on this godforsaken planet.

He’s haunted by the faces of those he once held close. A young Anakin hopping aboard the ship alongside Qui-Gon, bright eyed and eager to go to Coruscant and become a Jedi. Padme standing in her office discussing with him the senatorial address she was preparing, the bright sun illuminating her silhouette, giving her an ethereal glow. The voices of his men, the very clones who betrayed the Republic and the Jedi, teasing at his ears when he first wakes up as if he’s back on his ship surrounded by them.

But it’s you who haunts him the most. Unlike Anakin, Padme, his men, and those who he found at the Temple before he went into hiding here, he has no idea if you survived Order 66. He’s tried reaching out in the Force several times, hoping against all hope that you’d be reaching out for him as well, but he’s only met with emptiness. Silence. His own fear.

Although you’re no longer by his side, he swears visions of you follow him, haunting him like a ghost. He’ll be going about his day only to have his eye play tricks on him when he looks off into the distance, telling him that you’re there, you’re alive, you’re going to stay with him, but once he rubs his eyes you disappear. Or similarly, he dreams at night that none of this happened and he’s still on Coruscant, you tucked in his arms, only to wake up to a bed that was cold from the very moment he laid in it.

It’s the small memories of you that echo at him the loudest. Your smile, big and gorgeous when laughing at some awful joke he made in the early hours of the morning as you cuddled in bed before one of you took off for the day. Your eyes, twinkling in the night, impossibly brighter than any of the stars in the galaxy, as you excitedly tell him about something new you learned or witnessed that utterly fascinated you. Your tender hands playing at the edge of his mind as he recalls the absolute adoration and love that you two shared when thrown in the pits of passion.

You may be alive for all he knows, but he grieves you nonetheless. He’s not sure if this pain will ever go away—if it can ever go away—but he can’t help but ask for forgiveness from you every time he thinks of you. Forgiveness that he lives and you most likely are gone. His apologies are coated by sorrow that you were killed and utter regret that he couldn’t protect you better.

He thinks your words from that night haunt him the most: You may be the only man I’ve ever truly loved, but I know that you are my greatest love. You were undoubtedly his greatest love...he only wishes he could’ve conveyed that better. Oh the irony of you being worried that he didn’t fully understand your love for him when now it’s him who worries if you truly understood the depth of his feelings towards you. That very worry seizes at his chest and causes tears to well up in his eyes more often than he’d like.

But here in the dark night on Tatooine, he allows the tears to fall freely. He stares up at the stars that always paled in comparison to you and whispers out into the silent night, hoping that maybe somehow through the Force you’re listening.

“How incredibly lucky I was to love and be loved by you.”

[artpharos]

Lona angst 1 or 4 you decide how to break my heart because I know I'm gonna enjoy it anyway >:)

“I have to go, don’t you dare follow me.”/“Don’t you dare touch her!”

You asked for it

____ 

Sirens blared in Gladion's ears as he quickly strode through the too-pristine corridors of the Aether Labs. Wicke led the way, quickly muttering something into her comms device as she brought him through a familiar hallway. How she managed to hear anything over the alarms, Gladion didn't know, but right now, he didn't care. 

"Here." Wicke spared him a glance over her shoulder as she stopped in front of a nondescript door, worry creasing her brow. "Are you sure you want to-"

"No," Gladion answered tersely. Anything more and he wouldn't be able to contain the sickening feeling twisting in his gut since he heard she'd awakened, would probably collapse and be useless and that wasn't what they needed now.

It wasn't what she needed now. 

Wicke's comforting smile was weak, and Gladion wasn't able to muster up the strength to return it. With a final nod at Wicke, he stepped forward, slid his ID card on the automated lock, and pushed open the door. 

And stepped straight into hell.

The room was dark, colored only by the flashing lights from the sirens. A few lab technicians and their Pokemon lay groaning on the floor, while others surrounded a creature that stood in the middle of the room. Even with one leg chained to the floor, she still swiped at the people next to her, screaming and hissing at the crowd.

One particularly brave man moved to approach, and Gladion could see the familiar glint in her eye, could see her plan taking shape-

"Don't you dare touch her!"

The technician stopped, just in time to avoid the swipe of her claws. And they were claws, long and sharp, emerging out of a human-like form, a familiar, human-like face. But her eyes were golden now, her hair streaked with flowing lines of amber. She narrowed her eyes, pulled herself upright as she crossed her arms over the thin lab dress that she now wore.

"Hello, Gladion."

Gladion's throat caught at the sound of her voice- rasping and soft, and not at all the full and joyful sound he remembered.

"Moon... is that you?" 

The creature hesitated, and the way she tilted her head and shifted her feet was so much like her that Gladion's heart skipped a beat. It was just like the preliminary tests said- it was her. Except something else was in there, mixed up with who she was. Something had happened to Moon. 

And the last time he saw her, she was standing in front of the Ultra Wormhole, biting her lip the way she always did when she was nervous. Flashing him a comforting smile before she kissed him on the cheek. Teasingly, like she always did, totally unaware of the way his heart skipped a beat whenever she did so. She had hugged him and said,

“I have to go. Don’t you dare follow me.”

"Wouldn't dream of it," he had said. "Come back safe."

And now those words taunted him as he stared at what became of her. 

The knot in his chest was so tight it was hard to breathe. The rest of his staff ringed around him nervously, and Gladion had half a mind to run away, to close the door and pray this was just a nightmare. 

But then he took a step forward, and told the others, "Leave."

"Mr President, sir-"

Gladion shot the man who spoke up a glare, and soon he and the rest of the staff filed out of the room, leaving him alone with the creature.

With Moon.

Golden eyes watched him as he approached. Her arms, long and clawed, were wrapped around her torso, but Gladion saw the speed she moved- he stopped just out of her radius, a few feet away. This close, he could make out the amber lines flowing in her hair, tracing along her skin. The clawed nails of her feet and the fangs in her mouth. 

And yet he could still make out the way she wore her hair in a bob, the way those fingers so easily struck a victory sign whenever she beat him. The way her cheeks would dimple when she smiled and-

She looked so much like her, acted so much like her. But did the Ultra Wormhole spit out was the woman who befriended him, or a monster that stole her face?

"What happened to you?" he asked at last, keeping one hand close to the Pokeballs on his belt.

Her eyes narrowed again, sizing him up. But it was the hostility in them that scared him the most.

Despite it all, Moon never hated him. Once, he thought it was impossible that she ever could. 

She tossed her head, her dark hair and golden eyes catching the spotlight, before she paced a few feet back and said, "You tell me."

He frowned. "Moon-"

"Tell me, Gladion." What should have come out as a snap... didn't. There was a falter in her voice, a tightening of the way she hugged herself. A plea.

And hesitantly, Gladion spoke.

"I don't know," he said. "You were in the Ultra Wormhole for three weeks. After the first week, we began searching for you, but without a Pokemon able to breach the wormhole, our efforts could only pinpoint your presence, at best. We knew you were alive, but you-" He stopped, trying to ignore the way his throat clenched and heart twisted. "You were growing weaker."

Moon watched him in silence as he sighed. Squaring his shoulders, he continued, "On the third week- three days ago, there was an Ultra Wormhole breach. We don't know how it happened, or who. But we found you at the Atlar of the Moone... like this."

"Like this." Moon echoed his words, holding out her hands as she studied them. He wasn't sure what thoughts passed through her mind, but the look in her eyes was distant. Haunted. 

Afraid. 

Instinctively, he took a step towards her, but stopped when her narrowed gaze shot back to him. 

"So you found me, and instead of helping me, you chained me up." The venom in her voice was sharp, cruel. 

"No," Gladion protested, his throat clenching.

"So what's this then? A new healing technique?" Moon glared at him. "This is just like what your mother did to Null-"

"No, that's not it at all!" 

She flinched at his raised voice, and Gladion froze. With a deep breath, he said, "You... you attacked us. Hau. Me. You were in a frenzy. We had to restrain you, and brought you back here so that we could... keep you safe. Figure out how to help you. Before you hurt anyone else."

"W-what do you mean, hurt?" Moon spat out, eyes wide and body tense.

And lifting his arm, Gladion rolled down his sleeve- where a long, vicious, and obviously fresh wound circled around his arm. 

There was a horrid silence, and Moon froze. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open, and Gladion hated it. Hated this, hated seeing Moon like this, hated feeling powerless. Hated holding Moon captive, and making excuses for doing so. He wanted to bury his head in his hands, wanted to hold Moon tight and beg her forgiveness for letting her go- wanted to be able to do something, anything because this was Moon and she was the one who brought him joy and happiness, not... this. 

But then, quietly, softly... "I guess... I really do deserve to be chained up." 

Moon's voice was small, and when he looked up again, her head was bowed and her shoulders were slumped. A faint smile graced her features, even though her eyes shone with nothing but pain. 

"I swear, Moon, we only want to help," he began. "I didn't want any of this-"

"I know." She bit her lip, shifted her weight again. Then, gently she said, "You probably don't know if I'm still me or if I'm... not, huh?"

The fear in her voice gave him pause. The eerie light that graced her skin made her hard to look at. But it was the understanding in her eyes that dug deep into his chest and tore through his heart. 

Before he knew it, he had strode forward and thrown his arms around her, claws be damned. A soft, choking sound escaped Moon, and Gladion wondered if he should let her go- until she buried her head into his chest, and a shaking sob escaped her lips.

He let her cry. Let her tears soak through his shirt, her claws dig into his skin. He held her close, and it was as if that touch alone was enough to release all the tears she'd been holding at bay. 

"I can't- remember all of it," she said through choking sobs. "It was dark, and cold, and it hurt and-" She shuddered, and she all but wailed, "My Pokemon, Gladion. They- they're gone."

The heartfelt pain in her voice was enough for his eyes to prick. He clasped her tight, didn't want to imagine what she had to go through, and yet- 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It must have been scary, and painful, and I'm sorry you had to go through all of that alone."

"And what, you could have protected me?" There was a sniff, and as she pulled away, even though her eyes were gold and her hair was streaked with lights- she was so Moon that Gladion knew his fears were for naught. 

"I could have tried," he began, only for her to shake her head. 

"Whatever I fought, it-" Her eyes glazed over briefly, before she pressed her forehead against his chest once more. "It was strong.  You would have died, if you were with me. I... barely escaped. And if you were one more death on my conscience, I wouldn't be able to bear it."

"I can scarcely bear it, knowing that I let you leave, alone."

Moon looked up, looked at him. Her eyes shone bright with tears and pain and sadness, her face streaked with tears. And without a second more, she tugged his head down and captured his lips with hers.

It was soft and tender. Full of unsaid words and feelings. It was everything Gladion dreamed of, once. But now it hurt to know how cruel it was, to have Moon in his arms, broken and barely a visage of the woman he knew.

He'd find a way to save her. He had to, if only to give her a reason to smile once more. 

Softly, she whispered, "Gladion, I'm scared." 

He leaned his forehead against hers, pressed another kiss onto her lips. "I am, too," he admitted. 

She whimpered, and closed her eyes, resting against his chest as he settled her down on the cold, laboratory floor. He held her close, rubbed her back until her breath slowed and her grip loosened. 

And it was when she was finally asleep did he finally allow himself to cry.

[eris0330]

Hiraeth - Four

☽Pairing☾ ; BTS | Reader

☽Genre☾ ; Angst | Fluff

☽Word Count☾ ; 1.6k

☽Summary☾ Returning back to Korea after years of being under the ground, to see your parents. You wished it was all it took, to feel complete again. The aftermath of confusion, betrayal and sorrow was the reason to never come back into the boys presents. But it wasn’t until, seeing one them enter the same cafe, at the right time.

☽M. List☾ ;  1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21 // 22 [ongoing]

--------

"When was the last time we spoke about this?" Jin murmured with his drowsy coloured voice, as the drink became heavier in the bottom of his stomach. The tingling feeling evaporating through his whole body, and the sound of each member's breath clogging the practice room.  

"The last time Yoongi lost his head" Namjoon spat from afar, receiving the approximately glare from the light blonde guy. His glasses tipped and gently fogged by the warmth of the surroundings, with empty bottles neatly positioned in the centre.  

"Why is it always the ones who have had a crush on Y/N that lashes out the most?" Hoseok questioned, as the only one who didn't give into the alcohol and stayed with his carbonated drink. He was never great at drinking, but truly knew how to have a good time regardless. Jimin and Yoongi spared a glance to each other, before giving the typical "You're right, but whatever" huff.  

"Says the person who can barely keep a straight face when her name gets mentioned?" Jungkook spoke, leaning against the office chair, while raising a brow of annoyance as a 'kid'.  

"Don't tell me, you haven't gone a period of time, without having the idea of being her boyfriend? Besides Namjoon-" Yoongi replied along the lines, twirling around the half empty beer-can and letting the exhaustion of his lids close. The boys spent hours talking about you, or more like themselves. But it had always something to do with you, the flawed memories of bad choices and happy memories gathered with smiles. It was all brought up, thankfully to the youngest of the members. Suggestion of alcohol to boost their esteem to open their mouths, to share what had been clenching at their chest ever since that faithful Christmas.  

"Who says I didn't?" Namjoon added, folding his arms as the tilt of curiosity struck him harder than expected. Yoongi's eyes flashed brighter and looked for a second pained, but shrugged it off as usual. That's what he always did.  

"You have Jia" Taehyung remarked, still in the same position against the mirror, joining the circle of friendship and 'group therapy' as they disliked to call it. Namjoon chuckled, yet sighed deeply afterwards with his smile faltering. "Yeah, I had Jia."  

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Taehyung's lips moved quicker than his mind could process, as Namjoon gave out a familiar smile. It was heartfelt and understanding, as if it was something he knew was coming. "Don't apologise, it's okay. It's a long time ago anyways" He answered quickly, looking down on the bracelet that were symbolic for their connection of friendship and love.  

"Do you still hear from her?" Jimin questioned, curious of what happened during the time of abandoning and heartaches. "I try to. It's only a text message now and then, but it has been lacking a bit the past month. Christmas season, you know." Namjoon excused, even though he clearly had no idea, why Jia stopped answering his messages.  

It didn't surprise him, when she never greeted another 'Good morning' or a simple 'Good night' text. He had it coming, but when she didn't answer his 'How are doing?', is when his own world fell apart, even if it already were in the first place. Could he blame her? No. Namjoon was the one who decided it was better off in their own pace, than trying to keep up with each other. Jia never accepted the fact you were gone, and even worse when she was family, yet she had zero boundaries containing of any connection between cousins. Namjoon was less frustrated and that's what made them stay up late at night, fighting over the same thing, you. The way he never tried to push Jia, but couldn't get himself to support her fight for trying to see you. It was a lost cause, and that's how it ended with their backs against each other every single night. Though, she understood why he couldn't. Why he didn't feel the need to cry out or seek comfort, because, he did it alone in the bathroom when no one was looking.  

"Did you ever get to tell Y/N how you felt, when that 'period' of time came?" Jin switched the subject, as he noticed the facial expression of joy on Namjoon, slither away into himself. Jimin took another glance at the rapper near to his side, unsure whether it would be appropriate or not in this case. But the pink hue above his cheekbones, and the fuzzy feeling in his toes didn't hold him back.  

"I didn't. Well... It was kind of blunt but we were both sort of drunk so I don't think it counts" He explained, bouncing the question further to Yoongi, who was more or less able to fall asleep in the chair. Everyone's ears tickled at the sound of his deep hum, but waited eagerly at his answer.  

"I never did. If you didn't notice, I screwed up quite a lot doing my time with Jisu... So, confessing my feelings for Y/N wasn't quite my priority" He calmly explained, letting the members eyes widen of his blunt honesty. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but something else told him that he was being himself for once.  

"Wait a second. You had feelings for Y/N during the time with Jisu?" Taehyung blurted out in an unknown speed, making the rapper slightly smirk at the words. The member's curiosity peaked even more, before sorting out the puzzle themselves.  

"I would be lying if I said I didn't try to make Y/N jealous during my time with Jisu..."  

Silence, but it wasn't the unpleasant quietness of having to talk about something. Because, they all understood Yoongi at some point. They have all been there before, or always have. There was a mutual feeling towards you as a group, as close friends with the hint of a one-sided love. Even though how painful it was to stand beside you every day, to see your blank canvas across the hall with the same pair of joggings and sweat all over your body during practice, was like being punished. But as long they could be close to you, their status didn't matter. You did.  

"It's already 3 am. We should get back to the dorm before rehearsals tomorrow" Hoseok spoke, checking the dark clock on the wall and Yoongi checking his Rolex out of habit. Jungkook bit on his lip, seeing the members rise from their position unaware of the time flying by sharing different memories and hopes.  

"C-Could we do this again some time?" Jungkook mustered up the courage to speak, sensing the eyes fall on his tired frame while only an arm surrounded his shoulders. Jimin gave him a warm smile, before glancing at the other members. "Sure. It looks like we still have a lot of things in pandora’s box to open" He replied, ruffling the youngster's hair out of habit before Jungkook noticed the other members with the same kind of smile and an assuring nod. This is what he had been waiting for, the release of pain gravitating from his chest.  

--------

"What are you doing here?" An opened door to see a familiar woman come to sight. Her dark brown hair and small frame, with her newest red lipstick and captivating smile. Her aura of confidence and mischief, was something that made every hair on ones body stand straight.  

"Relax. I only have a restraining order from Yoongi. Besides, I got news Wonho, do you want to hear?" Jisu snickered, stepping inside the small apartment, remembering the same furniture as they have always been. Wonho didn't move on since your absence, but drowning himself with worry and the fact that the group's spirit and team work has been faltering the past years. It was noticeable for everyone, but no one dared to question it.  

"You're here to tell me news?" Wonho questioned with a raised brow but not feeling ecstatic about her appearance, closing the door behind, letting her familiar body posture rummage through the room. The only things left of your fateful smile framed behind another picture, to not let anyone see. Jisu knew this apartment, inside and out.  

"Awh, acting so defensively already? You didn't mind me coming here a month ago..." Jisu bit on her bottom lip, staining her bright white teeth with her lipstick. Unattractive, but it was one of Wonho's weaknesses. Jisu stepped in on the vulnerable man when he lost the 'love of his life' to the faith of shadows and emptiness, secluding a hideout in the arms of an enemy. Sharing his warmth with Jisu, from time to time when he needed it. It went on ever since, the day you left.  

"Get to the point, Jisu" Wonho spat, clearly tired of being toyed around in the middle of the night His abs flexing out of habit, when he was getting to the point of exhaustion and triggered of anger. It was a bad reaction of his body, because it always became that time, he called for Jisu. 

She sits comfortably on the black leather couch, letting her black skirt slide gently further up to reveal her glistering skin. Her perfume was tickling his nose, so slightly that it dragged him towards her like a siren. Only a single touch to let their fingers brush to their thighs, searching for comfort as two lonely people. Her lips brushing softly against his own, and the same exhale of releasing stress merging together. It was like being invited to dance and there was no way, to tell each other no.  

"I saw Y/N today in a café." Jisu's blunt news spread in Wonho's brain like poison, stopped him from moving any further. His blood shot eyes, feeling like they are going to explode any second. The idea, of you walking around in Seoul again after so long, but the fear of being played with, was battling against it, did nothing but made him shocked.  

[blacknovelist]

A Place to Be - BNHA Fic (Ch. 2)

Yeah, so, I’m still here. But before anyone asks why I took so long, the reason is I decided I wanted to finish writing all the chapters before I updated. Which also means that yes, this fic is technically finished! Except for the epilogue, but let’s call that technicalities and move on. I’ll be posting once a day until it’s finished (I’d like to go over the two last chapters since I only just did ‘em), so it shouldn’t take longer than half a week at this rate. This chapter was hard tho since it’s like, the bridge between the first chapter and the stuff I actually wanted to write? Honestly, I’m still not sure how I feel about the way I wrote Hisashi, haha. In the end, the plot i went with was different from the original plot I mapped out (as fond as I was of it), so I had to make quite a few changes.

This is for all you guys going into the reviews and yelling at me to come back and finish this already. ;D 

Thank you @curiousbluepencil for helping me out with the first draft, and thanks @guardianlioness for being the wonderful enabler you always are with fics and Dad Might (and for reading over this chapter and the next one too, ahaha)

I did make some changes to the first chapter, mostly towards the end, so you should maybe read it first!! If you haven't already, that is.

[AO3] [ffnet]

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Epilogue]

Chapter 2: Event Horizon

A point of no return.

It all started with a knock on the door.

Memories of a surprise cleaning inspection from Aizawa sprang to mind, and everyone flew into panic as Toshinori went to answer it. Iida gathered all the dishes and passed them to Uraraka, who lightly hurled them into the sink where Shouji got to work; Sero yanked a stray rubber chicken off one of the light fixtures while Kaminari and Mineta swept up abandoned papers; Tokoyami and Dark Shadow quickly shoved stray chairs back into order at the table; the rest got out of the way and tried to act as natural as possible.

As a result, when the door swung open to reveal a rather unassuming and unfamiliar man rather than their homeroom teacher, the only thing approaching out of place in the dorm was the duo sitting upside-down on the couches playing video games.

“Why, good afternoon!” The stranger beamed. He bowed, almost too deep for his casual greeting. “I, ah, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Midoriya Hisashi. My son is a student here, and since I’m back in Japan for a bit I thought I should drop by, maybe take a look at the school while I’m at it. I was told he is living here right now?”

Toshinori did an admirable job of repressing his own shock and covering the way Class 1-A collectively froze by returning the bow and replying, in entirely too loud and exuberant a voice, “Hello, Midoriya-san!” Stepping towards his students to allow the man in, he eyed the jacket slung over Hisashi’s arm and the papers sticking out of the pocket. “My name is To- ahem, Yagi Toshinori. You likely knew me as All Might previously but please, call me Yagi. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“Thank you, Yagi-san.” The smile on Hisashi’s face didn’t change as he came in, shed his shoes, and bowed again. “I apologize for my sudden appearance today, but I was hoping to be a surprise and to perhaps learn a little bit more about what my son’s life at UA is like. I hope that isn’t a problem.”

“Not at all!”

The class shared a look. Towards the back of the room, Kirishima and Iida barely managed to catch Izuku before his legs gave out completely.

Izuku wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to feel about all this.

Lgoically, he knew he should feel something. Anger, maybe, or sadness. Possibly even joy? But as the man claiming to be his father bustled towards him, all he could really muster was unease, confusion, and a deep instinctive wariness honed through a single year of hero training. The “why?"s and "what for?"s piled up, the cumulation of years spent wondering and wondering and wondering. He struggled to breathe normally past the thud of his heart in his throat, and his head felt like it was going to burst.

But there were no tears as Hisashi came to him, no heartfelt reunion hugs, no heavy explanations and promises to try better - there’s just two hands on his shoulders, a brief hug, a glance at his face and a strategic turn to his classmates.

"I’m only here for the afternoon, I’m afraid. It’s not much, but it should ample time to get to know about the school life,” he’d said earlier, a knowing smile on his face. “I’ll give you some time. Don’t worry, my son. Go.”

Izuku was all too ready to take the escape offered and stay out of the way for as long as he could. His friends and Toshinori ‘distracted’ Hisashi until he was ready to come out, and he made a note to treat them later as thanks.

Still, this was something he’d been waiting years for, and Izuku was nothing if not opportunistic when he wanted to be. So, the time not spent thinking was used watching as the man hovered over shoulders like it was his sworn duty, and slowly but surely Izuku’s mental notebook filled with details about his father that he hadn’t gotten from his mother before.

A handful of things Izuku matched up with his own, like the way Hisashi mumbled observations and ideas, fiddled with his hands, had the faintest collection of freckles over his nose, and liked holding his bottom lip whenever deep in thought. A few traits were entirely Hisashi’s own, like the fact that he seemed to have no filter but enough tact to either stop talking or apologize, liked jogging or biking in his free time, and was blindingly good at talking to people.

While interesting, it didn’t really help Izuku get to know his father as a person. Hisashi was a silver tongue - though he seemed to get along with most of the class, questions about his job or hobbies were answered vaguely (what was so special about “fiddle names”? They’d probably never know), and he refused to elaborate on his vanishing act past “business trips”. The deeper questions piled up in Izuku’s head were given the promise of “in private” and “I’ll explain later”, when Izuku finally got the chance to talk to him about it. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the man had only been gone a few months or a couple years.

“Maybe he isn’t sure how to deal with the fact that he’s here now, so he’s acting like nothing’s changed,” Kaminari suggested after overhearing Izuku’s thoughts. He’d made his escape from Hisashi’s endless curiosity when the man had been distracted by Sato. “I’m pretty sure it’s a psychology thing. He’ll talk to you properly and figure it out eventually.”

“I hope he figures it out soon, because the fact that he keeps talking to us instead of you is getting kind of awkward,” Jirou said, frowning. “ Kouda disappeared the moment your dad turned his way. Bakugou and Todoroki have this look on their faces. Everyone knows why Bakugou’s like that, but nobody wants to find out why Todoroki of all people looks like that too. I don’t know how much more we can take of this.”

The end result was that, by the time Toshinori ushered them towards the gym to meet with Aizawa again, all they knew about Midoriya Hisashi was that he liked ramen, jumped from subject to subject like a gold medalist, and a half dozen other arbitrary details no one knew what to do with. Izuku couldn’t help glancing back at him as they walked, mind still swirling with everything he hadn’t been able to ask earlier.

He wondered if he really wanted to know the answers anymore.

Three hours, six explanations and two-and-a-half battlefield shouting matches later, class 1-A finally dragged themselves back out into the world. Though Aizawa had left them under Toshinori’s supervision an hour ago to finish “important” paperwork, the constant questions and requests for demonstrations lobbed at them had kept them until the sun streaked the clouds and sky a myriad of dusty dark blues and rapidly fading orange-pinks.

“That was incredibly enlightening,” Hisashi said, appearing just as chipper as when he walked through the heights alliance doors earlier. His lips curled into a grin like he’d solved some incredible puzzle that had been plaguing him the whole week.

He lingered towards the back with Izuku as Toshinori pushed forwards to check on the others, waited as the teacher passed his son with a silent question and a bobbed head, and stepped closer.

“Izuku.” Hisashi watched as Izuku leapt a foot into the air, delirious training mumbles interrupted, and couldn’t hide his chuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But I was wondering if I could talk to you before we head back.”

Izuku hesitated, tried and failed to ignore the sweat seeping into his shirt, the dull burn of a long workout in his bones, the hesitation. “Not right now. It shouldn’t take long to go back and change,” he said in lieu of the no on his tongue. “Let me run back with everyone to drop my stuff off.”

“I won’t keep you forever. It’s already late, I need to get going soon.”

“Can you just tell me on the way instead? I’d rather not stay in these clothes any longer than I have to.”

“It’s important, yes, but it’s also private,” Hisashi said, a frown making itself known. When he took a step, Izuku matched it with two more. “Come on, my son. I promise it won’t take long at all.”

Neither noticed that they’d stopped walking, that the rest of them were waiting and watching.

“Well, I-”

“Midoriya-san,” Iida spoke up. “I personally assure you it won’t take long at all for us to return to the dorms and make ourselves more presentable, and none of us would dare think of invading your privacy by listening in on your conversation if you chose to speak to him on our way. If you have any concerns you need to share with your son, please don’t let us be in your way!”

Jirou coughed, and nodded.

Uraraka gave a light laugh. “Besides, I bet Deku’s feeling as dead on his feet as we are!”

Hisashi’s frown deepened. “It’s partially my fault for losing track of time, I suppose.” He nodded. “But I’m already pushing my schedule by still being here. I know what a workout feels like, thank you. I’m sure you want to rest and I’m sorry, but this is urgent.”

“Why not come back another day, even just for a bit?” Izuku’s brow furrowed. “If… if it’s that important you tell me this, I mean. I know you’re busy and that’s why you could only spare an afternoon, but I don’t even know if I can stay on my feet for much longer. Better to pay more attention if I need to hear it, right? Or you could call, while you’re still in Japan-”

“It really won’t take so long, and it’s too important for a phone call,” Hisashi bit out. They were all too tired for this back and forth arguing, really. “It can’t wait, so-”

“Hey, you and shitty Deku aren’t the only ones who need to be going somewhere, you know!” Bakugou snarled.

“Curfew will begin soon, and if we need to be out after that with reason, we’re required to stick together,” Todoroki said. A bold-faced lie. “At that point, we wouldn’t really have a choice about privacy. Either tell him on the way, or tell him at the dorms.”

“I don’t have time, and we’re already wasting more of it talking about this.” He stormed forward, and the class surged.

“You’re the one insisting on running off when we could have finished back home already-”

“If you could just reconsider-”

“Midoriya obviously doesn’t want to talk to you right now-”

“You might be his father, but he doesn’t have to go anywhere-”

“Take a hint, you-”

Sparks built up between his teeth, tickling his gums. “He’s my son,” Hisashi snapped. “And I can ask him to talk to me if I want him to, so back off!”

All but one froze at the flames that sprouted from his lips. It chased the dark and chill of night away for only a moment, leaving nothing but moonlight to illuminate the surprised faces of Hisashi Midoriya and Class 1-A.

[stephicness]

Trust || Ardyn Izunia x Ravus Nox Fleuret

You think I hold off on my asks because I get busy a lot and like to jump around. But really, it’s all apart of my nefarious plans to answer bundles of asks all at once! Bwahaha!

No, it’s actually because I do get really busy and jump around a lot in my ask box. But hey! If I have the opportunity to answer more than one ask with one prompt, by golly, I’ll take it!

So have some Ardyn/Ravus confession stuff! Look under the read below, because this is gonna get lengthy~

What sort of awful joke was this? Did Caligo decide to do this out of spite? Perhaps it was Loqi being dared by the men of the infantry to pull yet another stunt like this? He couldn’t quite place his finger on it, and he wasn’t quite sure of how to process it. All he knew was that this situation wasn’t one he anticipated. And with something defying his usual plans of actions and meticulous processes, it made Ravus upset. Grumpy even. He could only frown as he stood in his office with a rather discontented expression over his face.

It was placed there neatly, flourishing with colors that were arranged in a frenzy of red and white roses. Ravus had to step a bit closer to observe the mixture of solid reds and whites as well as the heterochromatic colored ones as well. He stood there taking in more of the flower’s aroma. Sweet and pleasant. Ravus felt his shoulders relaxing, but he soon frowned again as he snapped himself out of the flowers’ hypnotizing trance. Why where they here? And why are red roses the emphasis of it all? Red was hardly a color that Ravus found pleasing. And with how his office was mostly neutral tones and whites, the bouquet ended up standing out like a drop of wine over wine sheets. A stain.

And yet, Ravus couldn’t bring himself to discard them either. They looked well-catered to, watered properly and not wilting, a red and gold ribbon wrapped around the porcelain vase the flowers rested in. If this was sent to him by Caligo or Loqi, they wouldn’t have put so much effort into such a ‘present.’ Whoever this was from was quite the florist, and Ravus couldn’t help but smile a bit at the thought. Rarely did he ever receive gifts. And despite being suspicious of them a good majority of the time, he really did appreciate the thought. He couldn’t help but wonder who it was that decided to send him such a gift...

“Ah~ So my flowers managed to find their way to you after all.”

Oh no. Not this bastard.

Ravus knew better than to let such profanities spill from his lips, especially with how he had to keep his demeanor professional and composed in front of such a troublesome man like the chancellor was. But he sure as hell thought about each and every awful word he could use to describe Ardyn as his frown returned once more and he turned around to face the chancellor as he waltzed into the room. Him and his antics, such gifts like this always sent his way to distract Ravus from his work, to fluster him. And always, Ardyn played innocent in claiming that these gifts were all out of appreciation and wellness. A man like Ardyn was hardly someone to do anything out of kindness. The high commander scoffed, turning away from Ardyn as he picked up the vase to move it off his desk.

To think he almost became excited about a gift from Ardyn of all people.

“Such a sad expression for someone who just received such a lovely gift.” Ravus hadn’t noticed the chancellor moving in closer to Ravus until he turned around and came close to running into the chancellor. He looked at those sly amber eyes, that smug smile over his face. Ravus had to muster every ounce of his strength not to throw Ardyn out the window before tossing the flowers out as well. The high commander merely pressed his lips in a tight frown before he looked away. “Did you not like them, dear Ravus? I picked out the flowers myself, even going through the trouble to tie the ribbon to finish it off.”

“An effort waisted in a futile attempt to fluster me.” Ravus shook his head, moving past Ardyn to place the vase of roses onto his side table and out of the way. He couldn’t discard them in front of Ardyn, especially when he knew Ardyn had the power to ruin a man’s life with the snap of his fingers. So he would merely put them aside for the time being. “You invest far too much time in these ‘gifts’ of yours are far too little on your assigned duties.”

“Ah, you make it seem like I don’t have an obligation to cater to you, dear Ravus.”

“You don’t.” Ravus’s words were much more venomous than he intended them to be, but Ardyn hardly seemed phased by his tone. Even chuckling in response to Ravus’s harsh comment. “You waste your energy in giving me such petty gifts, especially when they’re only going to be discarded the moment I receive them.”

“Really now? Then I suppose you’d be ‘discarding’ this then?” Ravus arched an eyebrow as Ardyn smiled in again, looking at the red-haired man as he held up a white chocobo stuffed animal, a gift Ardyn had given Ravus weeks prior. The high commander’s eyes widened, cheeks turning the slightest tint of red before he had to look away again. Ardyn tilted his head at Ravus, setting the doll back down before he placed his hat on top of its head and wandered back to Ravus once again. “Admit it, dear Ravus. You enjoy my gifts, just as much as I enjoy showering you with them.”

Ravus scoffed in response, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to the chancellor with his signature glare. “And why is it that you find such amusement in giving me gifts? If this is one of your ludicrous attempts to create more conflicts in my duties, then you need to cease this at once. I do not have the time or luxury to have you about and harassing me.” Ravus pushed past Ardyn to return to his desk to clean away the pollen and water that remained there. But when he went back over, he arched an eyebrow at the tiny red envelope that sat by the outline of the water. What’s this? There was a card with it? Ravus sighed out of sheer annoyance. The multitude of steps Ardyn took just to provoke his grievances even more. The high commander frowned, tearing up the envelope and flicking away the paper in his gauntlets before he froze at the card’s handwritten words.

With you on my mind – Forever with love. A. Izunia.

“I suppose you trust my written word more than you do me talking.” The chancellor stepped closer towards Ravus, heels clicking slowly along the marble floors before he stood behind the high commander. His eyes peered down at the small card and how the high commander fingers tightened its hold on the cardstock. “Hopefully, you’ll be lest annoyed after reading that. I spent so long trying to write it in the perfect style. Just for you, dear Ravus.” And as Ardyn lingered, Ravus made no attempt to pull away despite his harsh words just moments prior.

For you see, as exasperated as Ravus was with Ardyn’s antics, Ravus honestly did value the gifts he received from the chancellor. He rarely received gifts from anyone, much less any appreciation either. The most he’s received in terms of any sort of proper recognition was when Loqi thanked Ravus profusely for not throwing a mop and bucket to him and demoting that blond-haired buffoon. But beyond that, the only real gifts he ever received were from Ardyn. And even if he wanted to get rid of them for being nothing more than a mocking joke, Ravus kept every one of them. The stuffed chocobo doll he keeps on the chair by his desk, the box of chocolates that was hidden by his bedside, even the small box with the silver ring that he didn’t think he was worthy enough to wear. Every single gift he received was kept in perfect condition (besides the box of chocolates, which Ravus gladly helped himself to and kept the box itself as a keepsake), and he hated himself for keeping it all.

Because why would he care about the gifts that Ardyn gave him? There had to have been some alternative meaning to them, right? He wanted to believe that, but something in how Ardyn acted around Ravus always told him otherwise. That he wanted to trust Ardyn’s words and actions. It tore him apart inside out and out. It made him fearful of what would happen if his trust was misplaced. He misplaced his trust in others before, and he surely did not wish for that to happen again.

And still, he wanted to put his trust in Ardyn. Put his trust in such an unpredictable man, to allow him to hold onto his hand, to pull him close and place a gentle kiss on top of Ravus’s forehead. The high commander let out a heavy sigh, squeezing Ardyn’s hand in response before he slipped it from the chancellor’s grip.

“There should be no more of this, Chancellor Izunia. Your attention should be redirected elsewhere.”

“After I wrote you such a heartfelt message, dear Ravus? How cruel of you to disregard my affections for you” The high commander’s shoulders tensed as Ardyn stepped closer to Ravus once more, not touching him this time, but merely standing uncomfortably close. “And what will you do if I decide that I only want to focus on you?” Ravus’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder to the chancellor. Meeting his gaze proved to be more of a challenge than he anticipated, and Ardyn knew that. He merely challenged Ravus even more by turning Ravus to face him as his fingers brushed underneath the high commander’s chin. His other hand snaked around Ravus’s waist to pull him back once again. Ravus’s eyes wandered to the arm around his waist, but Ardyn’s tapping on the commander’s cheek pulled his focus back onto the amber gaze before him. “I really do admire you, you know. And yet everything I do for you is met hostility. Do you really loathe me that much?”

“It’s not that-“ Ravus had to stop himself before he said anything further, his expression twisting as he thought of the words to use. Tread carefully, for once you give Ardyn an inch, he’ll take an extra mile. But already, it seemed like Ardyn was taking more than an inch as Ravus observed Ardyn beginning to lean closer. The high commander tilted his head away over so slightly before his eyes met Ardyn’s once more. “I suppose you can do as you wish and ‘admire’ as you like. As if any word I say will stop your persistence.”

“Of course it won’t. Whatever word you say to me won’t change how fond I am of you, dear Ravus.” Ardyn stopped just a few centimeters short of Ravus’s lips. They were close enough to feel the heat of their breaths dancing in the air around them. Close enough for Ravus to observed the details on the chancellor’s face. “But if you truly do wish me to stop, then I’ll be sure to ‘cease my antics.’ Perhaps I should let you continue your work for the day now.”

And yet, just as the chancellor tried to step away, Ravus’s hand shot up and put itself behind the chancellor’s neck. Ardyn glanced back at Ravus with a surprised expression, the metal gauntlet lightly digging into his skin. But nevertheless, the chancellor smiled at the commander’s gesture, returning his hands back around Ravus. The high commander let out a sigh, working up the nerve to look up again. He was quiet for some time before he cleared his throat and redirected his gaze to the flowers behind the chancellor. “They will eventually wilt away, so I suppose I can keep them until they dry out.”

“Did you like them at least?” Ravus got quiet from Ardyn’s question, but the commander’s eyes confirmed the question. Ardyn smiled, tilting Ravus’s head upwards again. “You’re just too cute when you’re in denial.”

Ravus wasn’t able to reply with wit. He found that his lips would soon be caught by the chancellor, stealing a kiss from the high commander. Excuse me? Ravus was taken off guard by the gesture. He was more used to the light kisses over his cheeks and forehead, but never something like this. Perhaps he had unintentionally guided Ardyn into the gesture with his hand resting on the back of his neck, but he wasn’t expecting Ardyn to be an opportunist in the matter. Yet Ravus didn’t turn away. He merely stood there, taking a moment to relax into the gesture as Ardyn began to deepen their kiss.

Amused with the idea of Ravus giving into the gesture, Ardyn decided to take it further. He guided Ravus’s body against his own when his hand pressed against the arch in Ravus’s back. Their closeness was enough to provoke a gasp from the commander. He probably expected to pull away after only a short moment, but Ardyn wouldn’t quite have that. He took advantage of the small gasp, using that as an opportunity to slip his tongue past his defenses, to taste the sweetness of Ravus’s mouth. Quite a literally sweetness. He must have been eating candy prior to Ardyn’s visit. Cute.

What was even cuter was the way Ravus began to ease into the kiss. First trying to retreat away, but soon finding himself with fingers clawing at Ardyn’s scarf, lips only pulling back to readjust themselves over each other’s lips before reconnecting once more. Ardyn was eager to test the waters even more, pulling back entirely for them to catch their breaths before Ardyn pulled Ravus up just enough to sit the high commander onto his desk and trap him with his arms. Ravus turned his head to look at his position. But the moment he turned back forward, his lips were taken once again. Ardyn couldn’t help but chuckle as Ravus’s voice was stifled, transforming into one of the most delicious moans he’s heard. A delightful noise from the ever-so stoic high commander. Ardyn merely pushed aside Ravus’s legs to press himself even closer to Ravus. The action caused Ravus to arch against him, aligning the commander’s neck to a perfect position for Ardyn to tug aside Ravus’s collar and plant a series of small kisses and bites along his skin, provoking more of Ravus’s sensitive voice, only to have it be stifled as Ravus grit his teeth and pressed his hand to Ardyn’s chest as if to repel him.

Ardyn hummed against Ravus’s skin, his facial stubble scratching against Ravus’s skin just enough to cause the other man to tense and lean his head over more and align itself into a place where Ardyn could kiss along his jawbone. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave any apparent marks on you. At least, not for others to see.”

“Oh, we’ll see them alright.”

Very few things were able to startle Ardyn, but this was certainly one of those things as he heard the Captain’s voice came into earshot, followed by the snickering of a familiar general. The moment the voices piped up, Ardyn found himself staggering backwards after a foot planted itself into his stomach and pushed him away. Ravus quickly fixed his coat, pulling up his collar again as he glared at the new intruders to his office. “Captain Highwind, General Tummelt. Have you no manners in knocking?”

“Not our faults you left the damn doors open.” Ravus’s gaze slowly turned to Ardyn with the most lethal of glares, only getting Aranea Highwind to smirk in response. Damn, she thought about getting some good gossip today, but not this good of gossip. “Loqi and I have those briefing reports for the Leide patrols you wanted us to do, but we can go ahead and give those to you later.”

“No, don’t.” Ravus let out a sigh as he pushed his bangs back and walked to Captain Highwind to take the files from her. “With these reports being done, I expect now that you two manage to give me a full briefing over the status of your divisions. Discussing the status of the military is important, considering that we must give a list of our requisitions to the Emperor to meet our needs.”

“Oh, you know, we could do that later.” Loqi had to stifle his laughter, hiding the biggest and most ridiculous smile behind his hands. “When you aren’t busy, Commander.”

“Do not try my patience, General.”

“Oh come now, dear Ravus…” Ardyn finally recovered himself just enough to straighten himself out, grabbing his hat from where he had displayed it on the chocobo doll before he ventured to the group. He smiled mischievously at the high commander before he glanced to the others. “It’s not like the others didn’t know how desperately you wanted my attention.”

Ravus glared back in response. “You think far too highly of yourself, Chancellor.”

“And you think far too little of yourself, Commander.” Ardyn chuckled. And with a swift flick of his wrist, he smacked Ravus’s backside, provoking a gasp of surprise, a look of shock, followed by a look of disdain from the high commander -- all in one movement. Aranea and Loqi had to hide their laughter the moment Ravus turned to shoot an enraged glare at them. “Perhaps I’ll let you get back to work then. I’ll come back later tonight, when we can have more privacy.” He flashed a wink at Ravus before he stepped past the Captain and the General. “Do take care, dear Ravus. And take my words to heart.”

Ravus scoffed in response, merely crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the chancellor depart. Damn that man…

“Oh, look at that! Ravy-oli’s blushing.”

Loqi couldn’t hold back his laughter, holding onto his chest as he felt it tighten from how much he needed to let loose that laughter. “This is just too good! Caligo owes me a thousand gil now!”

One look was all it took before the two were immediately silenced by Ravus’s stare. He didn’t say another word before he slammed the door in front of them and leaned back against the door. A heavy sigh escaped from the high commander. His feet dragged him over to the desk again, fingers reaching out to pick up the small card. ‘Forever with love,’ he supposed… A childish little gesture. But Ravus found his lips curling ever so slightly as he tapped the edge of the card against his lips. Actions did speak louder than words, he assumed. But that was a thought for when he was less busy. Perhaps tonight even... Ravus shook his head and cleared his mind of the thought. He would just have to trust Ardyn’s word for now as he quickly tucked the card away into his desk as he resumed his work once more.

[ncfn]

Nothing Comes from Nothing Part 1: Excerpt

In the safety of her hidden rooms under the family vault, Regina sighed with disappointment. Storybrooke was indeed full of idiots. She glanced at the extreme costumes on display from another life. If only she could muster the will, this pathetic town would disappear in a wave of flame and fury. Now, however, the hurt and anger that had driven her for so long was replaced with a profound tiredness. Like many times before, Regina had failed, but for the first time, she doubted her resilience to continue.

Her self-analysis was cut short as she felt a familiar and unwelcome presence enter the cemetery. Cora had finally decided to seek her out.

Slipping out of a secret passage, Regina effortlessly maneuvered around the stacks of crates and scattered trunks. She noted how many of them belonged to her mother and realized that everything that was hers would most likely have to be moved, depending on how this encounter ended. Stepping out of the mausoleum, Regina saw Henry a few yards away, and for a brief moment, she dared hope.

“Manipulation suits you, Mother,” the former mayor evenly quipped, hiding her disappointment at the obvious ploy. Must the same dance be on constant repeat? “How did you get through?”

An ugly smirk marred the boy’s face before he was enveloped in a purple cloud. Cora emerged, slightly impressed by Regina’s quick deduction. “Determination; I had to see you.” She walked slowly toward her daughter. Her smile softened when Regina didn’t react. “I needed to tell you that I know why you sent me through the looking glass, and I know why you tried to have me killed.” Cora paused, reaching out to her daughter. “And it’s . . . it’s alright.”

“I think it’s not alright,” Regina snapped as she shied away from her mother and the crypt, never taking her eyes off her. “You framed me for the cricket.”

Frowning, Cora seized her attempt to corral her daughter. “Only temporarily, so you could see what these people really think of you.” Sighing, she said, “I needed you to be receptive. I didn’t want you to reject me, not again.”

“You are the most manipulative….” Somehow, Regina managed to hold her tongue as the familiar burn of anger returned. Attacking her mother had always proved futile and costly. Her shoulders sagged a little. Exhausted by her rapidly changing emotions, she absently admitted, “I’m already broken, Mother.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Cora whispered, taking a bold step toward Regina again and latching onto her vulnerability like a leech. “I love you. I just . . . I’ve always shown it in all the wrong ways.” She could see her efforts were paying off. Pressing on, now that she was almost within arm’s length, Cora continued, “I should’ve never made you marry Leopold.”

Regina couldn’t help it. She broke eye contact as tears threatened to fall.

Sensing the timing was right, Cora struck with her usual precision. “I just want us to start over.”

Immediately, Regina was flooded with anger and resentment—at herself, her mother and everything else. She had been trying so hard to be worthy of her son. “I don’t see that happening, Mother.” She paused before turning her back on Cora and walking away. “Come with me. We’re going to town.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Cora scoffed, unmoving.

“I don’t care.” Regina gritted her teeth. “We’ll wake them up—Emma and Henry and the two idiots—and you can tell them what you did.”

Sighing, Cora still refused to follow but called after her daughter. “Taking me to be pilloried by the town might gain you some points, but as long as Emma and her parents are here, he’s not really yours.” She smirked when Regina stopped walking. “You’ve been too bad for far too long, and now they see you as nothing but a snake.”

Her mother was right, as usual. But somewhere, buried deep down inside, Regina found the strength to continue walking away and not give in to the temptation and false promises her mother presented her. She wanted to lash out and fight, to give in to all her rage. But it would serve no constructive purpose, only leaving this town full of idiots defenseless against Cora and dependent on Rumpelstiltskin.

Cora frowned at her daughter’s retreating back as it disappeared into the darkness. “I meant everything I said,” she called out. “I am sorry.” She sneered when her words failed to reel Regina back. Her eyes narrowed as she glared into the night. Her daughter had grown a backbone, after all.

Once her mother had left in a cloud of purple smoke, Regina sighed and turned around. “You can come out now, Miss Swan.” She watched as the sheriff climbed out of her hiding space behind a large tombstone.

“You’re one hard person to find, Regina.” Emma brushed the dirt and grass off her pants, hiding her relief at Cora’s departure.

“Perhaps I prefer it that way,” the former mayor said, once again leaving. “I wouldn’t linger, Miss Swan. Mother is bound to return.”

Glancing up from picking stray bits of grass off her jacket, Emma quickly trotted after the illusive woman. “Wait,” she said. Once in step with Regina, she quickly continued, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m well aware,” Regina sighed, stopping in between the rows of headstones. Turning she gave the sheriff an exasperated look and asked, “What is it that you want?”

“Archie’s alive,” Emma blurted. Her eyes sparkled with the news.

“I know,” Regina said flatly. When the sheriff failed to add anything further, she resumed walking to her car. She had to reach her other hideout before Cora returned to investigate the crypt, again.

Huffing, Emma blocked Regina’s path, earning an austere glare. She took a deep breath and looked Regina in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said clearly. “I should have trusted my instincts, not the memories of a Dalmatian.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Regina was curious to see where this particular conversation went, at least for the time being.

Taking silence as acceptance, the sheriff trudged forward. “I need your help.”

“I think not,” the former mayor quietly scoffed. “In case it escaped your keen notice, I have enough problems to deal with, no thanks to you.” She had said no to her mother, this time, but how much longer could she actually hold out? Or how much longer before she was forced into submission?

Letting the despair and desperation through, Emma pleaded. “Please, we—I can’t do this alone.” It was pure dumb luck that she and Mary Margaret had survived their last encounter with Cora. Unlike her cocky mother, the sheriff didn’t think they’d be so fortunate the next time.

For a moment, the heartfelt plea appealed to Regina’s deeply buried, compassionate nature. The moment of weakness passed as her sense of self-preservation kicked in, once more. “No.” With that, she quickly sidestepped the dumbfounded Emma. The benefits simply did not outweigh the risks of getting any more involved than she already was.

Irritated, Emma whipped around and grabbed Regina’s wrist. Her words of frustration were immediately forgotten as both women were encapsulated by a blue flash of light and then, promptly knocked off their feet. The sheriff blinked a few times as she tried to stop the world from spinning.

“What did you do?” hissed Regina as she struggled to stand. Failing twice, she crawled to a nearby tombstone and used it for leverage. Glancing over at Emma, who was still flopping about on the ground, she scowled at the apparent magical incompetence.

“What the hell was that?” the sheriff slurred, still unable to stand.

Not answering, Regina took a wobbling step away and then another. She had to get out of there immediately. No doubt, the inexplicable magical surge would draw unwanted attention. On her fourth step away from Emma, Regina was hit with overwhelming pain. She couldn’t stop her cry of agony as she dropped to her knees. Gasping, she fell backwards onto the ground. As the sudden pain ebbed, Regina glanced back at Emma who had curled into a fetal position, whimpering.

Crawling to the sheriff, Regina shook Emma’s shoulder roughly. “Get up,” she ordered. “We have to get out of here, now!” As much as it would please her to leave the savior to entertain Cora, the former mayor was quickly suspecting the worst.

Together, they stood and helped each other to the police cruiser hidden behind the short, brick wall surrounding the Storybrooke cemetery. Roughly, Regina shoved the sheriff in the front passenger's seat of the car.

“Give me your keys,” the former mayor demanded as she climbed in the driver’s side.

“Why do you get to drive?” Emma asked, absently handing over the keys. Fuzzy or not, she understood Regina’s urgency.

“Because you’re still drooling, Sheriff,” Regina said, starting the car and slamming it into drive. She hit the accelerator hard enough to send bits of gravel flying before the tires found asphalt.

The sheriff struggled to get her seatbelt buckled before she passed out again.

FF.net / AO3