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dreamiesdotcom · 4 years ago

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butterfly effect│nct dream

Summary: You think of it as something caused by the butterfly effect — the great loves you had to leave, and the one that made you stay.

Pairing/s: 7dream x Reader

Word Count: 12k

Moon's note: since it's my birthday and I promised... it's not the best but I'd like to thank you guys for staying with me and wishing me a happy birthday! I hope you all have an awesome 2021!

You weren't really thinking straight when you met him — instead, your mind was a mess of one thought and sidelines; the little things. Butterfly effect. The knowledge that ten minutes from now the train will board — you'll miss your ride to school, you'll miss school — so you run faster, faster, and there it goes. The butterfly effect — knowing that what little thing you did could've changed someone's life entirely.

If you have made it ten minutes earlier, maybe you'd be sitting in the spot where a child buzzes with excitement, knowing that she'll see her father sometime soon, and in exchange, she will be in another place — maybe she won't meet the girl sitting across who offers her one of her candies. Maybe she won't be riding the train at all — maybe she would have to wait six months again before she can go see her dad.

You sulkily take the path to one of the exits, thinking about catching the bus or something. The skies are dark and you're aware of its plan, also aware that you left your umbrella. Frustrated and too annoyed to even think about school, you crash to the empty bench, bags left to drop to the floor. Tough luck.

The boy chuckles, "Missed the train too?"

"Yeah," you grumble, not even bothering that he's a total stranger. "Was caught in a daydream and got lost on the way. You?"

"Eh, my idiot of a best friend made me wait," he shrugs. He brings his book down and offers you a handshake, "I'm Huang Renjun — I see we study at the same place. May I know your name?"

You don't speak after a minute or two, but you shake his hand, to which he laughs at. You think it was you being overwhelmed. Maybe your soul just knew how much impact he was meant to throw at your life.

Huang Renjun doesn't become a one-time encounter, but instead, he becomes someone you take train rides with; be it you're late or not, to school or to the library. He stays constant occurrence, so much that Huang Renjun turns into Renjun, then Renjunnie — until you're free to call each other names like 'dumbass' and 'stupid' and everything crumbles down; formalities, facades, walls. You don't feel it then, but if you were to look back, you think it's that one dark-skied Monday with you two terribly late and finding yourselves back in the same bench, when everything the world laid down for you has shifted.

Renjun pout his lips, bored. He tears his bag from himself and lets it stay under the shed, but he stretches his hands out to the sky where his eyes are set, watching water fall in tiny drizzles before a full-blown rain, "Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?"

"When we should be at school?" you huff, more amused than questioning but it comes out as a scolding. He only nods his head, and you furrow your brows, "Renjun, you're crazy."

He doesn't reply, only answers with a deadpan gaze that asks Are you going or not? and it makes you tighten your expression further.

"Hold me."

The boy grins in triumph — he cheekily smiles, immediately pulling you under the rain and laughs like a tiny kid. It's contagious, you figure out, his laughter; if not for his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours, you would've fallen over laughing with him. It was less of a dance and more of a cuddle, swaying to the sound of the rain and his sweet hums. Renjun whispers to you the melody of a love song, and you couldn't help but ponder.

"I always wanted to do this, you know?" you feel silly even confessing, "To dance under the rain with someone, look into each other's eyes, exist as if the world doesn't and maybe give them a kiss. I wonder how that'd feel."

Renjun's serenity read ideas — those that never failed to get you two in trouble. He tilts his head, "Kiss me, then."

You feel like the world stops, and your heartbeat slows, as if the raindrops are little speckles of star-like lights littering the surroundings. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, shock ripping through your body, a confused sound escaping your throat, "What?"

"I guess you don't always need to have feelings for the person you're kissing," Renjun purses his lips. Of all people, you laugh in your head, those words you expected to come out of this one's mouth the least. He huffs, "And I don't have feelings for you."

There's just enough hesitation — uncertainty, unpredictability, skepticism — in his eyes that you find he can't be trusted as much as he normally would be. Renjun drops a half-smile, eyes unreadable, "But I sure do know I want to kiss you. A lot. Right now."

Renjun smiles in victory the second time that day.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You come across Donghyuck in the most inconvenient way possible; a few months after you started dating Renjun and there's a little too many mishaps with making schedules meet. He strides to your chair one sunny Friday, clothes too colorful for the shades of beige decorating the place. Donghyuck didn't know how to approach you; he just kind of winged it by showing you Renjun's texts that he asked him to pick you up because something came up and he can't make it anymore. You didn't really like that — the fact that he didn't even speak, the fact that Renjun stood you up. You thought Donghyuck was arrogant. The car ride home was silent.

He was far from that, you learn the one too many times the same scenario occurred. Renjun was too busy to even show up, more often in the library than in his own place. Donghyuck, being his best friend, never failed to be there for you, keep your relationship intact, make excuses for the other. He'll pick you up from where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend, grab food and spend the whole day playing video games that only he understands, and then half of the time he'll compliment you with little playful remarks. That day was supposed to be nothing so different from the others — it's just that it didn't take much longer for Donghyuck to fall.

How could he not? You smiled so lovingly and spoke so gently, always so understanding and patient and kind. How can he not, when he's already known what song makes your day the most? When he saw how ethereal you looked under the moonlight, as he danced with you by the shore? Sure, maybe most of these moments wouldn't have been if it wasn't for Renjun's absence, and truly most of the things he loves about you aren't for him; he fell in love anyway. Still, that day was supposed to be nothing so different from any others — you're stuck in the odd place quite between grateful and guilty.

"Something came up, he won't be here." The boy says firmly through gritted teeth, hands-on your wrist trying to make you get up, "Please. He doesn't have his phone. He's not coming anymore, let's go home."

"Let me wait for him, please," you say, eyes teary, "Please, Donghyuck."

"No." He simply mutters, and whether it was the sinking feeling of defeat or the determination in his voice, it doesn't matter. You let yourself get tugged away from that place, feeling weak and oddly empty. The car ride home was silent.

"Thanks a lot, you know?" You shyly say later, once Donghyuck's lost enough in video games and he's run out of knock-knock jokes and witty statements. He couldn't stand the sight of you with your head hung low and eyes teary, "You're always there for me when Renjun is not and... just thank you."

"You're welcome," he sincerely replies. You try to look for it, the lilt in his voice or the smirk stretching his lips, but all you see is worry, and it concerns you. The bad butterflies in your stomach, the bad thoughts in your head; you feel like right now, with you so vulnerable, there should be someone by your side — someone that is totally not Donghyuck. He clears his throat, "You know he didn't mean to, right? He wants time with you too, a lot, you know?"

"I know what I have, Hyuck," you reply, a chuckle at the end of your tone. You lean your back to the couch, head tilted up and voice hoarse, "and I'm fucking scared I'll take him for granted."

Donghyuck's heartbeat slows down, but you don't need to know that. If you're thinking of a similar situation, a place in time back then as cruel winters and as harsh as summer sunlight in the afternoon, you figure he doesn't need to know that, too.

You let out a huff and a smile, "I don't want to know how painful it is to lose Huang Renjun."

Donghyuck thinks he knows why you said it; things normally go down the drain when you start realizing why someone fell for a certain person — at least, he thinks. If his experience is a reliable source, this is the point where you start falling for that person too. When you see how gentle they are, how caring, how understanding. Maybe Donghyuck is lonely — maybe he just wants to be someone who holds another person, singing them lullabies until they fall asleep, much like Renjun does for you. Maybe you're really just lovely — maybe there's an undiscovered force in the universe that places you in the center of his everything. He makes note of the rejection in your confession, and he accepts it, gracefully.

This is the point where he suppresses all the what-ifs in his head — what if you gave me a chance? What if I met you first? What if I didn't skip class that day, and I was with Renjun, and I met you at the same time as him? Do you think you would've ended up with me? — but these thoughts, despite being concealed, they leave a constant reminder that they're still there. It's a truth you both already know, the words that drip like honey from his lips, "I could love you better, so much better."

It'd be a lie to say you didn't think of it, considering his feelings. It would be an even bigger lie if you said that you don't think anyone can love you better than Renjun — you know someone can, and with how you two are handling this, it wouldn't be so hard to. Donghyuck is just so easy to fall for — the way he always knows the right thing to say, the compliments he throws at people, how confident he is, how clingy he gets. You would lie if you're asked, but you can't deny having feelings for Donghyuck, you can't deny how many times you've fallen in a reverie thinking of how good it must feel to be adored by him. Maybe you were lonely, maybe Donghyuck was just like that. Either way, no matter how great this love could be, you know it's wrong.

"I know you could. I couldn't be any happier when I'm with you. Those instants, they're one of the most beautiful moments in my life, but —" you halt, eyes still staring up at the ceiling. The twist in your gut tightens as you proceed, "But in those moments, I was secretly hoping for things. I was hoping that he was the one doing all of that for me. I was hoping that the happiness I had with you, he was giving me instead."

Donghyuck remains silent for a while. He smiles wistfully, "I know."

It's a rather odd answer, but you figure it shouldn't shock you as much anymore. You sit up straight, confused. Donghyuck motions for you to stand as he does the same. Stars shine in his eyes still, but it's a different light — there's hope in them, but it's a difficult kind of hope. He's beautiful even under dull lighting, it's something hard to pronounce; unrestrained and raw, as if one look at him and you'll crumble.

"Please, for just a while, even just a little bit," He steps closer, eyes downcast, "hold me like you love me."

You figure you were right about thinking that there was always something wrongfully more with Donghyuck — also discover that no matter how much more this feeling is, whatever it is, it can never be love; at least not a healthy one. What love could possibly ruin relationships? Donghyuck and Renjun are practically soulmates — they were made to be best friends, and while they had their other friends, nobody is just like Renjun and nobody is like Donghyuck. You don't want them to fall apart; you of all people know how hard it is to lose someone special.

Donghyuck's hug felt like fire, uninhibited and uncontrolled, given to someone so undeserving. You hold him like you love him the same way.

"I don't need you to love me back," but maybe he was hoping a bit. Yeah. Maybe. "There was never a chance for us, you know? Against my own best friend, I know I won't stand a chance. I just wanted to hear it from you."

A pause.

"Because I can dance with you under the moon, and I can walk on streets holding your hands, I can give you all the time in the world — I could spend a lifetime telling everyone I'm yours," Donghyuck locks gazes with you, and you wonder how he manages to be both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. He shakes his head a bit, "But that won't make you love me."

"Because I can only ever catch you," he says wistfully "whenever he fails to. I always do, don't I? Catch you, save you, love you. But you're not falling for me. You're not in need of my saving. You're not mine to adore."

He loosens his hug, looks at you like the sun bidding farewell to the moon. He's just as beautiful, if not more, he really is — gold dusting his eyelids and strawberry balm on his lips — he's ethereal. Donghyuck is beautiful in all ways manageable and not, but it's also a different kind of beauty — quite like love, adventurous but uncertain, poetic but tragic. There's a lot of pain in this beauty. He closes his eyes.

"There's not much of us, but I'm setting you free."

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You find yourself knocking at Renjun's door that night, for no particular reason — certain events made you forget that he stood you up. Renjun apologizes and repeats his reasons like a mantra, but words seemed to leave his mouth once he sees your eyes; tired and sore. You don't really need his apologies. You just need him.

Apologies, you see, they almost always never come when they're asked for. When they do, they're mostly unwanted and unnecessary from that point forward. You just feel odd, more restless than you actually are, the world is too loud — you just want to close your eyes and escape for a bit. Renjun holds you silently the whole night, his heartbeat calm, his arms holding you tight and secure.

Renjun knows, but he decides it's better for him not to. He shifts a bit, "If not because of me, why are you sad?"

A part of you knows that this is his way of telling you he understands, that he's aware of what somethings happened behind his back. Renjun always knows. The bigger part of you hoped he didn't — selfishly. You know it's the safest choice to keep your mouth shut.

You're sad, for a million reasons or for just one, you don't bother keeping up with the numbers. Renjun looks at you like you're a treasure, though, like he means it — you think the only favor you could do him and for yourself as well is to lie. You grin, effectively hiding away the tears threatening to brim your eyes, "I forgot."

He doesn't really know what answer he expected, but his heart sinks at the reply nonetheless. Renjun decides, tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes quickly in a way Renjun wishes it wasn't. He wakes up tired — he was up all night singing lullabies to himself, whispering confessions that wouldn't change a thing and promises he'll never be able to fulfill, stuff that would never make you stay. Renjun didn't cry all night — there was a tear or two, there was three — he didn't just cry all night. He did so much more — relive the past, think that he's sorry, accept defeat and the fact that he's never gonna be enough for you; then he closes his eyes. The rain pours heavily outside and Renjun reaches a hand out to the sky.

"Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?" he says with tired eyes. "One time once more, baby."

You ignore the telltale signs of a heartache — maybe you were too numb, maybe you wanted to pretend it's all normal. Renjun tugs you outside and pulls you into a hug so tight, as if he didn't want to let go but he's losing you. Is he?

Dancing with Renjun under the rain is oddly similar to the one you shared with Donghyuck under the moonlight, and you find yourself full of guilt as you sway together with him, humming love songs just right next to your ear.

Renjun knows of that dance, of course he does. He was in front of the place you two were supposed to meet at, hoping that he could still make it. Because of this, he doesn't ask why you're entwining fingers with his while recalling memories of another. He doesn't mind — he thinks, as long as your eyes look at him so softly like that, he doesn't mind anything.

You think Renjun is beautiful like this — his everything an aesthetic you can endlessly write about. His eyes, though, his eyes look distant, wishful and longing. Renjun looks at you like he's letting you go and your heart drops, as gentle and as sweet as the poems he's written of you and the kiss he gifts your lips with.

"Just leave, darling," he whispers, "Stay a lovely memory to me."

It's just like any lovely excerpts you wrote, the last line with Renjun quite familiar and bittersweet. As if in any other circumstances, had he said only the second sentence and the second sentence only, it would have made your heart skip and your cheeks rise in temperature.

Real love is a little not like literature, though, at least the one you had with Renjun isn't. It wasn't almost being the same person. It wasn't sweet chaos. For both of you, it was doing what was the best for each other at the moment — whether it will make you cry, whether it will be painful before it becomes easy, knowing that it won't always be picture perfect but still wanting to give each other what you deserve. It was so much simpler than how he said it in his poetry, just as complicated but not any less romantic than that. Huang Renjun knew that you were aware of what was the best for the both of you — with neither of you ever wanting to force something to work and end up hating each other the more it fails, successfully trading the happy memories with more regrets, you walk away. Renjun doesn't follow just because love isn't always like the idea of it, but he does remember to never forget. You walk away, holding his love dear to your heart.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

Some people are just not meant to be alone, you think. Mark Lee comes just as quickly as Renjun was gone.

You don't even know why your paths crossed — Mark is literally the town's golden boy. He plays sports and aces exams and has a good set of friends; surely, he has more important matters to deal with, and definitely getting coffee at a dingy coffee shop isn't one of them. Not when it's three a.m in the morning, at least.

The shy barista at the counter sends you a gleeful smile as he hands out your order, one which you return with a curt nod and a quiet wish goodnight. He watches intently, subtle but focused — he really isn't one to gawk at people, but he couldn't help it. You held with you a smile that doesn't match the exhaustion in your eyes. You looked like hope. You looked like someone to look up and search for the stars even on a cloudy day. You seemed like a full-bloomed spring to trapped minds and sour hearts. You think Mark is a little too curious like Alice. Mark thinks you're even better than the Wonderland he'd always fall for.

He knows you saw him, he feels the hesitation in your stare. He knows you know him, he's shared a couple of classes with you and has done a couple of assignments as a team, so naturally, Mark couldn't help himself but ask, "Wanna sit down with me?"

You walk up to him with a nod, grateful. Mark tries to remain calm for the rest of the night — caffeine not helping — and he tries to look at his book instead of you, but he simply fails to. He tries his best to conceal himself, but he can't seem to tear away. He can't look at anywhere else when you're sitting there right in front of him — you know pain, you're familiar with sadness, have always been friends with enduring what you couldn't take; Mark sees in you a landscape that makes his heart hurt, a leafless tree he loves by itself but couldn't resist the urge to nurse back into life. Every now and then you'd look up from your cup and he would look away from this book that he's "reading" and your eyes would meet, and the both of you would shyly giggle and open up a small talk.

He walks you home that night, this one and the other and the many next times after that; it's just your thing by now, getting coffee at the most unreasonable hours of the day and staying up until it's too late for either of you to sleep because by this hour you should be blinking awake, walking down lifeless streets and past neon signs and holding hands. Mark would look at you with such awe and when he does, you have some things you forget, and your heart races. He's became a regular part of your day, a constant stranger. And then he becomes your friend. Then kind of more. You think, maybe, just maybe, he can become something more than more.

"I have many regrets in this life, you know? But I don't wanna be imprisoned by them," you shrug, too scared to look up at him and see that he wonders just what failures you've done. You continue your slow pace, both in walking and letting go of things much like words, "I don't want you to be one of them."

Mark stops walking, but he doesn't make you feel like you've said something wrong, so you finally glace up and meets his eyes; those that hold as much tiredness as yours, pressure, those that are glassy and brimming with tears. You smile, "And I like you, a lot, even if I'm in broken pieces. "

Mark looks at you and doesn't see majestic brokenness. Mark falls deeper in love that day, the next and all the others; you were deep like that. He fell and couldn't stop falling and he can't wait to fall even deeper into you, diving into unknown waters with blind fates and silent confessions of love.

Your relationship was practical — literal and convenient, full of compromise but in a good way. You both were almost always on the same page of what should be done and how to do it, and if not, you two know that it's the best to give it a rest and understand. The balance, that kind of synchrony — it was something you both need, was something you liked about your dynamic; the fact that the partnership was there and you're certain of no taking more than you could give and no giving of less than you deserve. For once, you feel like you aren't pouring liquid into a leaking jar, and you feel content at the warmth he gives you with.

Renjun never made you feel this way; he didn't make enough accommodations for your relationship and you didn't voice out your expectations of him, you just wished he magically knew. Because he always knew that you would understand and other people wouldn't, he ended up giving you most of the weight of the relationship you both should've carried together. Mark was everything you hoped Renjun was; this is where the conflict begins.

When love is fueled by what the past wasn't able to give and what the present is willing to offer, you end up falling for the ideas and not the person. He makes up to what Renjun didn't, he filled to the brim what Renjun wasn't able to, he satiates what Renjun couldn't satisfy. You always saw the things Mark did as what you expected from someone else, so you weren't able to appreciate them as they are. You never truly saw him as Mark Lee who loves you, always as the boy who did everything the last didn't.

Just as any relationship that revolves around somebody who's not involved, the conclusion was something you saw coming. It comes with tired eyes and worn out sighs, burned out hearts and linked fingers, sour hearts turning bitter. Mark doesn't look at you at all, and you keep your eyes set to the stars.

"The thing with me is I always long for consistency — for someone to understand me and stay understanding of me forever." He breathes out, voice raw. Did he scream? Was he screaming in those empty spaces you two gave each other? In any of those yells, did he call your name? You think you need to yell at the top of your lungs just to hear a sound louder than your heartbreak. He chuckles before continuing, "And I know that it doesn't exist and it never will. I knew that since childhood, but even if I continue disappointing myself, I never stopped hoping."

His shoulders drop — he feels that weak that time, even his knees buckle down and his eyes sting from holding back tears. "So baby, don't play with me," he whispers, more begging than warning and he falls apart, "I don't need a chase — I need someone to wait for the end with."

There's a whine at the back of your throat, but you settle with looking at his direction with an apologetic call of his name. He doesn't reply.

Mark never knew that he could fall in love with the same person all over again even during a break-up. You're just lovely like that — always dancing in your daydreams while you carry the world on your back. Mark feels his breath catch at his throat, he feels his palms go numb, he feels his heart going haywire and begging him so desperately because no, no, don't let go, please, don't let go!

"There's a huge difference between how much I love you, and how much I can take." He finally spares you a glance, his everything so spent and lonely and blue in a way that isn't the calm of an ocean. "If you can't love me, then please let me go."

Mark knew your answer when you smiled.

────── ❁ ──────

The trip to the coffee shop was slow and empty and chilly, your hands trembling in need to get a hold of warm coffee and your feet taking little steps to such a familiar place. Honestly, you don't even know why you're letting yourself go there — why do you keep on doing this, torturing yourself? You don't even know — maybe you came here to reminisce the past, hold it close one last time before letting it go. Maybe you're here to remember how Mark was, how he was before he met you — oh, how you wish he didn't meet you. How badly you wish he never did, how you wish he never offered you a seat, his comfort, his love, a place in his heart. How you wish you didn't steal the sparkles in his eyes, and at that very moment, you feel the sudden urge to turn around.

But you're already pushing the glass door wide open, causing the chimes to make that delightful sound.

"Good...!" the cheery voice fades, a concerned look adorning exhausted eyes, "...evening. The usual?"

You hum, nodding soullessly. The boy — Jeno, quietly works your order until he decides he's had enough of you rubbing your cheeks raw wiping down tears. He sighs and finishes your drink, hands it to you with a sympathizing smile, "Uh, you don't look fine, but are you okay?"

You suppress a giggle and a glare — why does he care? But you're lonely, too lonely, so lonely that you only manage a nod, "Rough time. I wish today didn't happen."

"Oh, but other people had the best day of their lives today. They wouldn't experience that day if today didn't happen," he smiles, flashes of child-like optimism and hopes hinting behind the sleepy glaze in his eyes. "You're on your way to yours."

And while on any other day, his reply would have made you annoyed, you find that he's right, and wish that he indeed is. You feel like it's the only right that didn't go wrong today.

Something warns you that you shouldn't be getting yourself caught in his strings and his ways, but you find yourself straying around his orbit. You were lonely. It was that bad — so bad that you found comfort in everything and everyone and Lee Jeno just happened to be convenient; It's just safe to be around each other, and that's what great friends are supposed to be, right? Jeno doesn't judge and he doesn't pry when you tell him not to push it, and he tries to understand without forcing you to make him if you're not ready. Lee Jeno had a soul like comfort and a smile like a piece of home. You insist that you had no interest in either, but with you so down and him the only thing pulling you up, you couldn't help but let him in.

You think some people are just like that — timeless souls stuck in mortal bodies, liquid gold; glowing and burning and bright and hopeful, stars. They're like stars — human stars.

He's always beside you, you see, Lee Jeno. He answers the dumbest questions and the deeper ones, he stays up listening to your heartaches and struggles. He knows a lot about you — never everything, but they're more than enough — and you know about him, too. It's a dangerous edge you two are leaning far too close to tipping over, and still, your gaze screams life and hope and energy, Jeno thinks he doesn't mind. He remembers earlier memories with him crumbling under your fingertips, tears in his eyes.

"Mark Lee... he's not replaceable and I'm not a replacement..." he shifts his eyes down, can't bring it to him to just look at you without breaking himself. He manages a heartwrenching smile, "but I think I'd rather be a replacement rather than a distraction, darling."

But you looked at him and cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead so mellowly, assuring him that he's neither. The storm in his heart stops and all his insecurities don't matter, and Jeno doesn't think he ever felt this good — so light, so dreamy. Your touch brings comfort, much like lullabies, and after years on insufferable insomnia, Jeno falls asleep.

Your gaze, too. If you continue looking at him that way, he doesn't think he'll mind anything.

"Thanks, Jen. For the coffee," you say with a smile, another night spent with him at the coffee shop. These days, you spend most of your free time waiting for his shift to end, watching him stutter and flush every time he realizes you've been watching him. There's a giddy feeling spreading inside your gut as you continue, "and for staying with me. That was so thoughtful of you — how much lovelier can you be?"

He laughs, shaking his head. He sighs, "Stop it. You're giving me hope."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Oh, but I want to," you quickly roll your eyes, an attempt to faux cool control, your expression immediately shifting to something welcoming and soft just enough that his chest tightens. Jeno feels kind of odd — a good kind of odd, a welcomed sensation. You beam up at him with glassy eyes. Jeno shifts his to his shoelaces.

"Don't do that."

"Jen..."

"I love you," he confesses, shallow breaths coming in quick intervals. The floor seems to sway under his feet and the skies feel like they're swirls of dripping liquid, and it's hard to even breathe, let alone swallow the bitterness of his words, "But I would rather have you not say it back than hear you not mean it."

"I'm... I— Jen," you gasp out, fast to hold his hands to try to keep him down. For a reason or two, you feel like crying. Jeno feels lost. "I'm falling."

But you're not, and you don't know why you said it, but there's a galaxy in his eyes and the universe so beautifully laid down in his mind and he's pulling you close, tears in his eyes, this boy. Lee Jeno who's so in love with you, Lee Jeno who's hopelessly whipped, Lee Jeno — your sweet, sweet boy. You look up to him and shakily whispers, "Please catch me."

Jeno looks at the luminaries and wonders what it would feel like if one day he looks into the very same orbs only to find that the stars have fallen.

The wind blows gently, the coldness of the place prickling his skin, but Jeno doesn't think it's what caused the flush to rise on his cheeks. He stutters, curses a little, says again those little words and dives for a kiss — you feel like it's the best night ever; no nightmare, just pure bliss.

You blindly walk the path inside your house, dropping your belongings on either of your sides. You try to keep your knees from buckling as you bring yourself to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes. You lean your back to the cold tile walls of your shower, feeling the rush of water that is supposed to drown your thoughts not doing anything to keep them at bay. What have I done?

Loving Jeno is easy, though, far too easy if you may. He's so full of love and in need of affection but never asks for them, and you're more than glad to give all of that to him without words needed. The days with him have been light-hearted, felt deeply nonetheless. In this little world, it's you and him, him and you, no one else. Right? Is that right? Do you promise?

Jeno knocks at your home one day, sullen and lethargic. He spreads his arms out for a hug, one you throw yourself into without hesitation. He leans into the touch, leaning down to burry his head on the crook of your neck, "Thank you, baby."

Your brows draw closer, "For what?"

"You were never mine, but you were always lonely." He suddenly says, He suddenly says, voice fading weak and unstable. There's warm tears dampening your shoulder, and he shakes ever so slightly that you panic and try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he continues, "In my twisted logic, I made myself believe that it's the same."

"What are you saying, Jen?" You laugh, a bit confused and a lot afraid. "I love you."

"No, please, don't say that," his reply baffles you. When he lets you go, Jeno has a certain saddened look in his eyes, and it feels so familiar that you should be numb to it by now. You're not, though, and so you pretend to not know where this all would lead. He pulls you in again and hugs you tighter, "Let me tell you that I love you without you answering back, please."

The boy breathes out shakily, "I want us to have at least one memory that isn't a lie."

And then Lee Jeno says goodbye.

────── ❁ ──────

Park Jisung is the clumsy florist who keeps breaking vases in the flower shop his cousin owns, just several blocks away from the kindergarten both your nephews attended. You meet him one too many times you had to pick the little boy up, and talked to him finally one fine Tuesday when you decided flowers would be nice, out of random. You become friends from then on.

This thing you have with Jisung is something lovely, child-like, and carefree. It doesn't put any pressure on you — there are expectations, but they're all voiced out and kept healthy. You're friends — great friends, not best friends — whose dynamic is not necessarily convenient. It's safe to say that some people think you have a complicated relationship.

You think, not really. Not to the two of you, at least — Jisung just knows when you're down and in need to be left alone or cuddled, while you know when he needs to cry or if he's pushing himself to his limits. He knows what flower you hold most dear, your treasured scent, your favorite shade of yellow. You know his most loved tracks, the beat he looks the happiest humming to, the color of his dreams. It's much more simple than that — it's just that you two have fun, even with your differences, and when you're together, everything else just fades away.

You just... don't like being alone. Jisung doesn't like not having company — well, there are indeed people he doesn't want to be accompanied by, but he doesn't like being the only one walking alone in crowds of many. He doesn't make your heart skip, not really, instead it's just a warm feeling in your chest, much like home. He doesn't make you nervous — not at all, but he does make you feel safe. Comforted, even. It's the type of love you've always yearned for, the only kind of love he's comfortable with.

"You dance?" Your eyes widen in surprise, dropping your book on the table. Then you smile, "Oh? Aren't you full of surprises?"

"Mhm, you'll see." He says with embarrassment hinting his voice, but then he stops arranging the flowers and looks at where you're sitting. "You? Aren't you full of surprises, too?"

You pick up your book, a sudden low, shrugging. "It won't be a surprise if I say now, wouldn't it?"

He just shakes his head, tries to lift the vase to the other side and accidentally knocks another one down. You laugh at him, curious at how much control he has over his body that he must be able to dance so fluidly, hit the beat like it's what he's born for, and yet he can't seem to hold a vase and not break it. Jisung giggles, taking it lightly. You wish he didn't.

The days with Jisung are filled with your favorite bouquets and post-it notes. Each and every day, the words written inside changes from 'You did well', until it develops to 'I hope you smiled today,' 'I wish something good happened today,' and 'You're really, really pretty.' He'd take you to little uphills, asks you to teach him how to make floral crowns from wildflowers, dance with you barefoot under bright daylight. A little summer, a certain person, your most dreaded feeling of having someone mean so much that you let flowers bloom in your chest until it's so hard to breathe and you cough them up.

"My parents asked me to study dance in another country," he mumbles one day, a shaky breath leaving his lips, "Please give me a reason not to go."

"Chase your drive, Sungie," you whisper back. You lean your head further to his chest, safe and warm and fading, "I love you, so choose your dreams over me."

There's the slightest hint of betrayal in his voice, a tinge of rejection in his eyes, "If you love me, why would you make me choose?"

If you love me, why can't you choose me? You selfishly ask, the kid in you whining at the thought of being left alone. The greedy part of you begs to ask him to stay, the needy part of you wants to hug him until he's so full of you that he forgets even the bare thought of wanting anything else. The silent voice inside you, the one that learned and keeps learning, the one that could've saved you so many times if you listened to it, sighs sadly. Don't risk anyone's future for your present, it seems to say.

"Because I love myself too," you look directly to his eyes, cupping his cheeks in between your palms, "and we need to put ourselves before anybody else."

And yet again, you're starstruck by the almost golden swirls in his irises, a peek of his soul. You think his eyes are beautiful — astounding, art worthy, a sight to never get tired of. He thinks they're only beautiful because he's looking at you.

This thing with Jisung isn't something you should've let go. You shouldn't have let him go but you weren't ready and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone who held you so close beautifully. He didn't mean to, though — it was just too hard not to go overboard, and the next thing he knew, he was in love. He didn't mean to, so he walks you home the last night, hand in hand with a certain something hidden underneath his mellow smile. Jisung stands in front of you, waiting for you to open your gates, but you don't move. You stay basking in the tenderness of his gaze.

You think the little problem is that he's even more breathtaking up close and in silence, when the night feels so dead that it thrives — you feel like if you weren't so broken, if you don't keep on seeing another person when you look at him in the eyes, if you let go of the past, Jisung would be everything your heart desired. It just so happened that you two are both too infinite for forever, too broken to fix anything for the latter. Jisung was too charming — his smile was one that doesn't ask for attention but still steals it, never content with just taking your breath away so he takes with him your mind and soul.

You can't handle losing any more of yourself, though, so you smile, "Thank you for waiting."

"I have always been waiting for you," he grins shyly. You make a mental note to remember him like this — dyed locks a mess on top of his head and glasses messily perched on his nose bridge, tall and too pretty to be real, eyes so loving and expressive. There's an obvious sorrow in his voice, "Without fail, consistently, inevitably, forevermore."

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheeks, "Good night, Jisung."

The last note comes in between the pages of your notebook, a pretty pastel purple accompanied by pressed wildflowers. There, in his messy letters and colorful ink, reads a confession:

Maybe I couldn't stop myself from falling because it felt like flying with you.

You shake your head, sigh reading 'I told you not to do that'. Still, you feel a tug at your chest, a link between the two of you in the sense that you seem to be moving in synchrony with these words — Park Jisung is your last love, you swear. You shift your eyes, tired of the same chain all over again, flipping the note to read the words behind them.

When you find the right love at the wrong time, what will you do to make it work?

You sigh to yourself as you read the question, tracing the pristine paper with your pen, and finally, finally you smile;

Let it go. Set it free, because the greatest love of all is the one that lets you grow.

You tilt your head up, holding back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

────── ❁ ──────

Zhong Chenle invades your life like a hurricane of mixed emotions, a little like three months just in time when you finally decided you've had enough heartbreaks. You meet him from one of your friends, Qian Kun, and literally had to stop and wonder how in the world he managed to find this thing — you can't help it, alright? Chenle just stood silent and proud, clad in leather and rumors and reputations and reeking of expensive. He comes in the scene like thoughts as turbulent as unwanted flashbacks and as easily as finding trouble looking for the right answer when you're in a rush.

Quickly as he entered your life, he became a friend; you're too familiar with this scene, but you've had enough. You can't take any more. You've spent most of your life haunted by sugar smiles and breathy laughs and in exchange, had yourself break everything you wanted to keep intact. It doesn't matter that he's not at all what he's perceived to be, it doesn't matter that he makes your breath hitch. You don't even care what you're going against with, if it's fate or heavenly beings or the world — no more. You can't anymore.

The world is the ocean and the ocean is a God — people are mere sailors who think they're stronger than the tides, but they're not; once the waters have made their decision to kill you, there's no reason you should fear the phenomenons trying to do you harm. It seems like it's made that plan, that thing you hoped so much you wouldn't do. Chenle knows so he smiles at you brightly, "Don't you dare run away from what you're feeling."

"Else what, you gonna run after me?" You bite back just for the sake of it, laughter bubbling from your throat, "Gonna go chase me down?"

He shrugs, taking a challenge and a risk, "You better not regret."

"Absolutely fucking not." Kun hisses after you've told him what happened, months after you've started dating and you're tired of hiding it already. Your friends already tease you about getting together, anyway, so why should you even hide? Apparently, this. The profanities leaving his mouth should worry you, really, but it doesn't; not as much as his disagreement. Still, you couldn't even bother to ask him why because you see it in his eyes — you know him that much, you're familiar with that look — "You're not in love with Chenle, please, we both know this."

"I am in love with him!" You say, hurt. The look in his eyes softens, but the pain of his word doesn't, neither does his determination, "Kun, please. I didn't tell you just so you could lecture me, I told you because you're my friend! I do love him!"

"Are you, really? In love with him, you say? Completely?" Your eyes shift to the side after his statement, the lack of sarcasm and warmth in his tone both bothering you. You want to cry. When you look at Kun, you find he feels just as much. "You're not in love with him in the way he deserves."

There's a dry chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your bag, standing up with a tear slowly rolling down in your cheek. More than devastation, there's a certain withering look in your eyes. Kun tries to apologize, but you're already moving away from him. The betrayal in your voice is impossible to ignore and forget, "How dare you make accusations about how I'm feeling?"

Falling in love with Chenle wasn't in the plan; in fact, you hardly even had any plans to begin with. As another fact, the only plan was to not fall in love with anyone anymore. Plans are ever-changing things, you'd always counter, they depend on the situation. When Chenle came in your life, you figure there happened to be another shift — something significant had changed, a good change.

Maybe it is why you didn't even take Kun seriously. You've always hoped that all those lows would lead to this point, the part where there's content spreading on your chest, a feeling just as bright as the luminescent blanket of embedded diamonds and rubies, a sky full of stars. By your side, the boy looks at you with eyes shining just as much; Zhong Chenle, badly misunderstood, so truly loved. You couldn't help but pull him in a kiss — giggly and messy, chaste and ever so delicate.

You think you could spend lifetimes just staring at him. You swore on it, really, to not be in love with him. More than anybody else, you hoped to fate that you'll never fall in love again. It's just that this person — Zhong Chenle, he has a tendency to be very addicting, and oh, how easily addicted you are. His kiss a lovely burn against your lips, his words a heavenly whisper to your ear, his existence a delightful surprise. You find it inevitable to fall because of the many similar nights before this, just weeks after you two met. Those days where you two were laughing way too hard for midnight and your heart blossomed with happiness it hasn't felt for long. It's the sweetest kind of doom.

It's doom, nonetheless.

"With whom was your first relationship with?" Chenle suddenly asks, no hint of jealousy in his eyes, but there is, aside from pure curiosity, something else — lost, baffled, seeking an explanation for something he doesn't even think he should know. "I mean, you're mine. You're my first love, but I know I'm not yours, and I'm curious. "

"You don't even know him, Lele." You laugh, trying to hide your hesitation. The boy insists, says that he just needs a name. You roll your eyes affectionately, "Huang Renjun. He's a great guy, but timing kinda messed up."

Chenle hums appreciatively, but he stops trying to find constellations and making up shapes of his own; instead, he dives in a pool thoughts deeper than the dark. He thinks of what he doesn't know if he believes in, but he keeps his eyes up at the stars and hopes to God that his life wasn't such a movie; he stays quiet.

"Who's Jaemin, then?" The question comes, harmless but shocking nonetheless. Chenle breaks his stare from the dull-starred sky and looks at you with a smile brighter than daylight. His question makes your gut twist. "Jaemin who danced with you under the rain... Jaemin who made your day with corny jokes, with late-night talks, with coffee, with notes."

You don't reply, so he ponders some more. He thinks about walking the streets holding hands, he thinks of cheek kisses. He thinks of waking up tomorrow and doing all of that with you. He looks forward to a couple of years — maybe you'll move in together, maybe you'll share a place and clothes and everything. He thinks of counting down the memories, having lived most of his life satisfied. Chenle thinks of doing it all with you; someone who takes tragedies and turns them into masterpieces. Someone who sings sad songs with a saccharine smile.

"Jaemin with a reputation, known for all the wrong reasons..." his eyes cast down, dull and slowly piecing everything together, "Just like me."

He thinks of a vow, a promise — to the stars, till dawn do us part. He thinks of how near the sun is from rising, and he thinks of silhouette, of being hidden behind one. You don't answer until then, so he just takes it as your reply.

"You don't have to. I already know," he smiles, fingers entwining with yours. "Maybe I just hoped that I didn't have to find out from Kun."

Chenle is innocent, kind of naive. He wears his heart on his sleeves and gifts its pieces to anyone who dares to get to know him. He loves a lot — his friends, his family, stars. A person who grieves the loss of midnight too, when the stars start to fade; you. Because of that, he could forgive anything you did and would do.

It's one of his many ways of love, you see, this thing you have going on. Chenle's just like that — you never know just how much more he can give before he runs out; there's just so much of him and it's difficult to put it into words. He's shown you how he treasures relationships, how he adores everything around him in each and every time a different way and kind. He's shown you so much, all the ways he displays his affection with, this little magic trick. That's not all of it, though, and a little part of you sinks because of the fact that a lifetime will not be sufficient enough for you to know just what this love is, completely, because every passing moment, the boy falls for something; each fondness different from the lasts.

Chenle just loves like that; so much that he doesn't mind being loved for carrying pieces of another person — being adored simply because he made you remember what you didn't want to forget. He thinks, if he doesn't think it matters, it wouldn't; he prays that if he doesn't bring it up, you'd forget. He's loved you for so long but you know so little of his kind of love; ever so pure and limitless, impossible to define and dictate.

When he holds your hands, though, you feel like it's enough — it's enough to have known slightly more than what you think you should.

"You give too much," are the only words that you were able to form. He looks at you as if to ask if you think so, and you feel the time stop for a bit when he leans his head on your shoulders, his dark locks tickling your skin. You laugh, humorless and sentimental, "Isn't it about time you'd learn to love within limits?"

"You're brilliant, you know?" He mumbles, albeit sleepily. "Kind of infinite. There are no restrictions in the love you deserve."

Something about brilliant just hits so different from beautiful — something so damning and sweet and you feel it again; just how much love you have in you, how much of it you are willing to give. Maybe boundaries really aren't your thing, maybe its the reason why you let Chenle adore you beyond what you know you can take, why you allowed him to give more than he should've given. Maybe it's why you poured affection after affection without conditions — maybe that's why you were selfish enough to love shadows. Maybe it's as most people say — you tend to burn too bright, to share too much of yourself, and not everybody can handle that. You're a bit too much for others. Maybe it's why you find yourself sitting down, pen roughly scribbling on paper.

Somewhere, there's a soul aching for your love... but no matter how much we try, we know it's not here, with me.

────── ❁ ──────

Kun doesn't knock at your door until a few weeks later, and whether it was him giving you space or him not being able to leave Chenle alone, you think of it as a blessing in disguise. It wasn't even after a week or two that you found it in you to get your life together — fake it till you make it, clean up your home, clean up your mess. You greet him with a smile on your face, tears prickling your eyes, "Come in."

Kun doesn't even say anything, he just puts the snacks he bought somewhere and crashes the sofa. He turns off the television, eyes the clearly was-messy place, and huffs at you, "It's just me. You don't have to play cool with me when you're feeling so broken."

"You're acting so much like Kim Dongyoung." You whisper just enough that he could hear before making your way to him and sobbing in his arms. Kun lets you stay like that, his hands threading your hair and affectionately patting your back, a soft 'I told you you're not ready yet' that's less scolding than it is loving. You stop crying then, just miserable sobs and sniffles, and he stands up to get you a cup of water. You look at him.

"Thank you, Kun."

Suddenly, his not amused expression is back. He moves away a little, placing a strict space in between the two of you, and then directly looks into your eyes, "Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Were you ever gonna tell me, or was I just supposed to learn about it after you've left?"'

"Kun," you breathe deeply, "I need to."

"For who?" He asks, hoping that amongst the reasons read your name. Are you finally choosing yourself? Is it still because of other people? He wants to ask, but his voice keeps failing him and all he can whisper is words about how he's proud of you, how much you've endured, how badly he wishes to ease the pain. Kun doesn't look at you with disappointment, with hurt; he looks at you with pure utter understanding, and you find it in you, a reason to smile.

────── ❁ ──────

You can't help but reminisce things as you walk from your home to the train station, neither can you when you asked the person in charge for which train will get you out of the place the quickest. You didn't really have plans, you never did, and perhaps that's where everything starts to go wrong; you just forget things, or at least, you try to suppress them. You never tried to solve anything.

This town knew too much — there are memories of Renjun on the trail from here to the benches, flashes of Donghyuck's sly grin meeting your gaze in the reflection of the glass whenever you look at the vending machines. You feel like you've walked every street in here, hand in hand with Mark, like you've danced under all these blinking lights with Jisung, like you've been to everywhere with Chenle. There is so much to remember, and this place can't hold them all and it breaks your heart so much, knowing that many things are meant to be memories, but not all memories should be remembered. You close your eyes in silent hopes that no matter how painful, you never forget one second.

It was impossible, surely, but you think that the thought of being able to recall them completely will be enough to keep you company. Even until now, you don't really want to be alone — some people are just not meant to be by themselves, and sometimes those people aren't really good at settling down either — being one of them, you leap from one crumbling bridge to another, hoping to never feel the pain of a great fall. There was never an end where you didn't.

Waiting for the train to board, you look back to a certain place in time. The one where you think everything began.

Your first love is something you remember vividly. It came in the form of childhood crushes, wildflowers, and ruined playgrounds. It's a coincidental meeting; you were running away from your house, tired of the yelling and the crashing and the constant fear in your little heart, while he was sneaking away from his house to play more because he's a 'rebel'. Your first heartbreak takes some years forward, years just a little far from now even if it feels like it's been forever standing here, waiting for an uncertain return.

Until now, you think that it was that night under a rusty slide and above dry leaves when your life started to change.

You meet again with Na Jaemin just minutes before your train arrives, a brief eye-contact and a skip of heart and it doesn't take so much for you to know; those eyes, that smile, the red string sitting too tightly on his wrist. You remember what promise that meant — you know that, right? The thing they say about red strings, how they connect people? — and what childish hope that strand held — if we wear this, we would always find our way to each other, because we have a red string connecting us now! You remember, you do, really — of course, you do; how you could you ever forget him? Surely, maybe he's grown a lot, and everything about him has changed, he even dyed his soft hair blue. You're certain, though, you knew that it's him — maybe the red string worked. Maybe it's the butterfly effect and the heartbreaks your heart and several others nursed. Maybe it's the look in his eyes that remained soft and sweet and honest.

You miss your train, but you can't help but feel like you're just in time.

"Jae—" you choke, eyes wide and shocked, "Jaemin!"

────── ❁ ──────

Na Jaemin meets you again on a busy train station, three years ago after he just came back in town for a visit. He remembers the punch in his gut at the sight of your face, the red string delicately wrapped on your wrist, far too small but still so beautiful. He remembers the sullen look on your face, the realization dawning on him that you're late for your class and he chuckles; you never really made it in time for school, even as a child. The rain pours and he has to fiddle his bag for his umbrella, opens it so that he could let you in. When he takes a step closer though, you were talking to another boy, and Jaemin thinks he's the one a little late.

He comes across you a lot of times next to that, too, but never when you're alone. He thinks, his timing is a mildly off as well. Every time he tries to come and talk to you — when you were sitting alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, inside the coffee shop, in front of his niece's kindergarten — there was always somebody else. It reminds him of back then, one of your conflicts as you started to grow up and apart; the many times you needed each other and the other person is too caught up needing someone else. Jaemin thinks that the beat you both are dancing to is a little too delayed.

Jaemin remembers meeting a boy just as blue as him, a face a little familiar, smiling longingly at the two dancing under the moon. He remembers eyes as regretful as his, he remembers a smile, "They look so happy, don't they?"

None of that matters, though, not when he's pulling you into a hug and dragging you to a rooftop, not when you're several floors off the ground and beside you is Na Jaemin, sitting side by side, with eyes that take you back to the past and makes you hope for an unbroken present.

When you two stand under the bright sky and you stare at him instead of gushing about flying, Jaemin realizes just how drastically different this present is. If the look in your eyes says anything, he's certain that you feel the same.

You have just always been waiting for this moment, you know? And you missed your train, but you were just in time to meet Jaemin, and the rush of affection cleared all the lines you had to cross and everything was light and filled with teary laughter before right now. You've had it planned, the both of you, multiple scenarios where you two could meet again — none of them are this way. It's awkward and tense and the other feels so far away; this wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Jaemin could leave. He should leave, he figures, thinking that it's always been what he's best at. It's not working, anyway; maybe it was him being gone and you going through so much, maybe it's life knocking some sense in the both of you, but none of that matters — it's not working. It's just like this, relationships — two people could start at the same point and still go separate ways. It's not meant to be. He could leave, forget, maybe he'd find enough courage that he marks this chapter closed and finally, finally stop thinking of childhood feelings and even the grown-up ones. He could find a new beginning in this chapter closed.

That's the way it goes, anyway, right? Some ends feel like new starting points. Jaemin could drop it here. He could make it easier for himself, he'd be able to say this isn't working and he'd be back to his normal self; the one that looks at you and looks for you in a way that he did before falling in love. He could be young and free, away from untold reasons and unsaid apologies and undelivered feelings. He could make it easier for himself.

But to hell with ease, he didn’t want to.

"Remember, back then, we would always sneak out to play in the rain?" Jaemin is the first to break the silence, "And we look at flowers... you used to cry at everything back then!"

You flick his arm at that, and he sits on the floor next to the railing because he couldn't hold himself up anymore, laughing. Even until now, this still feels like a very vivid dream. You spend the night trying to believe that this is reality — Jaemin does the same.

Fate has a tendency to bring people apart and put them back together again, so you can't really help it that Jaemin was months and weeks away from leaving the town again. There was a point where you cursed time — you just found him, and now, why is he being taken away from you? There was a time where Jaemin thought you weren't meant to be — if you are, then why do you keep on being forced apart?

He thinks he really should stop thinking this way. It's just something really odd, this love stuff, because it's never really just one thing but rather a couple of many nothings to make up an entirely different, supposedly magical occurrence. Love is never just love — it's oftentimes euphoria with even the slightest glimpse of devastation. Jaemin doesn't think he understands why the both of you try so hard to make it easy — no matter how difficult, he knows it's worth it, knows that he'll fight for it.

Jaemin spends his last day in this place smiling, cupping your cheeks as he stands in the middle of a busy train station yet again, this time, with you in his reach. The skies are dark but his smile is bright, and it burns brighter when you flush after asking him why he's staring at you so hard. The boy cooes, "Perfect should try to be you."

"If perfect was me, perfect would be a mess," you quickly counter even through you being too flustered. In your absolute anxiety, you think that everyone is looking and judging you. With the way Jaemin is staring at you, you don't think you'd mind even if they whisper things so mean.

"A lovable mess," he raspily whispers, sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. Jaemin smiles, "I can't make this up. I fall for you several times a day, repeatedly."

Jaemin lets go of your face and dips in to kiss your forehead, and then he giddily messes your hair. You can't even bring it in you to get mad — you have several minutes and you have so much to say and the time is too little, your words are so limited. Jaemin asks for your hands and leaves a red string, identical to the ones you gave each other as children but bigger and adorned with the tiniest butterfly charm. You look at him, confused, "What's this?"

"A farewell gift, and something I'll definitely come back for," he flicks your forehead as if to say it's so obvious, and you can't help but feel like time is running out all over again. You breathe, unsteady and ragged, a desperate call of his name, "Na Jaemin?"

He doesn't answer, but he wipes the tears streaming down your face and he hums.

"I'm so happy that the ending is me and you." You finally confess, taking him aback. You smile, sweet and cruelly beautiful, brutally emotional, and if there were no children around and Jaemin was a tad bit more shameless, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He couldn't, though, so he just gapes and stares and listens.

"I'm so happy that it's back to you."

As the train boards, you find yourself realizing how tough the world gets — the lovely, sinking feeling lingering in your chest as you recall the highs and the lows of life and fate.

You've had far too many great loves in your life, so much that using the term would probably not sound special anymore to other people — but they're different, each one of them, the way they loved distinct at least — and this one, just this one, Na Jaemin, by far, is the greatest.

The end is sweet and lovely, if a bit sour and bitter. The end is where you hopefully find yourself.

────── ❁ ──────

"Mom and dad keeps on fighting. " your nephew murmurs under his breath, one sunny Friday spent walking on streets that are cooling down, on the way to what must be the happiest place on Earth for a kid. "Do you think they don't love each other anymore?"

You nervously scratch your nape, thinking of easy ways to reply to the question. You think of your childhood, how you spent most of it dreaming of love. How until today, the thought of it still haunts you. You just shrug, "People just have some bad days, but look, they're still together, right?" he nods, and you feel a blossom of proudness in your chest, "They love each other, and that's why they had you."

The kid suddenly frowns, "Why do people get together, then?"

You halt your steps before continuing, on the verge of asking why he asked that question before you realize that it's your nephew, anyway. He loves holding mature conversations even if he doesn't understand anything, he likes asking away and being taken seriously, like an adult. You chuckle, "Uhm, because people make each other happy!"

"Why don't you have someone, then?" You don't know how to answer his question, and neither did you expect it. He looks too interested to be brushed off. "You said people make other people happy!"

"Hm, well, I do have someone," you think of sugar smiles and giggly kisses as you say those words. There's a comforted exhale leaving your lips as you look down on the kid, "But, he's not the only reason I'm happy... I'm happy with myself, without him."

"Do you not love him, then? Because you're happy without him?"

"I love him, I do, a lot! We went through a lot to find each other again," you smile kindly, patient. "But it's a different kind of love, just like how it is a different kind of happy with him."

His lips jut out, wondering about things not so completely disconnected from his first questions. He then sighs as if he's carrying the weight of the world, "If you had to find each other again, it means one of you left. Why did one of you leave if you love each other, then?"

Why?

"Well, you see, maybe..." there's no answer pouring from your lips, but emotions threaten to spill from your eyes and then down your cheeks. The child won't understand your tears, though, so you think of familiar faces and the one you entwined your fingers with, like home. You keep your head held high. "Maybe it's so that we could find each other again in a time where we would be better versions of ourselves."

It's not enough to sate his curious mind. "But if he's almost always never here, how are you supposed to know if he's the love you're supposed to have, then?"

"The love I'm meant to find has always been here, within me," you say genuinely, and the child, ever so confused but curious, remains silent to understand. You shake your head a bit, "but with him, this love grows bigger and bigger, and it helps us cross any kind of distance between us."

Finally satisfied, he stops asking questions at the sight of his most favorite place, muttering incomprehensible gibberish as he tugs you closer to the entrance. Then you think of how happy you are to be standing under this sky, above this ground — you think of the butterfly effect, all the little moments and major events, and everything that passed and will forever remain remembered. You think of all that lead you to this.

You look at the reflection of yourself from the glass walls of the candy shop, and you couldn't help a smile. The look in your eyes screams dreamy as you push open the door. This is it — you're on the way to loving yourself.

Welcome home.

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poisonous-widow · 3 years ago

Text

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back

A/n: Hello everyone! I am back!

So ya'll remember my last bnha angst called 'Good Enough?'. Well I've re-made it to this beaut right here! I'm hoping this will be a short Fan fiction probably 10 chaps be the max (Hopefully) or even lower is possible \(0w0)/. They won't be adults in this one, still in UA and yes - the angst will be there. My Oc will be the main of this, but Y/n is apart, yes that's right - you guys are in this (Don't worry! You aren't the bad guy.......maybe).

I've also made this because I fell in love with Olivia Rodrigo's songs, the ones that I can relate to especially. And for this as well. I hope you enjoy this and tell me what you think in the end.

- Love you guys!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Crying, fluffy fluff fluff!!

Additional info: Music videos/audios may be involved (Not in this one)

Main Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, Amicia Mizuki

Ages: 17-18yrs (Depending on other characters as well and their year)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER ONE - I still love you

~~~~~~~~~~~

We shared many memories. Love...

She’s been humming tunes in her dorm for the past thirty minutes. Cooped up in the corner of her bed, messy blankets, plushies and four pair of legs tangled together. Amicia cackles lightly, long thick lashes kiss her cheeks, lifting her novel she was currently reading - grazing her light forest green hues to her spiky blonde love. Katsuki releases a long deep breath, his head snugged into the thick comfy padding of his girlfriends thighs, rubbing his head further into her when he felt her cackles.

"What are you laughing at..." He grumbled out, a little muffled since he's laying on his side. Squishing his other face cheek.

Amicia giggled. It sounded so calm to his ears, soothing.

"Nothing~" Amicia mused, a smile playing at her lips as she moved her book to one hand, bringing the other down to caress his tuffs of hair. She gently scratched at his scalp with her nails, caressing in long strokes. She heard another long breath release out of him, the weight of katsuki falling onto her thighs.

There was a shift of movement and Amicia moved her hand, allowing Katsuki to roll himself on his back, eye-lids opening to those crimson daring eyes. "Don't lie to me shitty woman..". Amicia pouted, poking his nose in response. "Don't call me that".

"But you are a shitty woman" He smirked, seeing small fumes appear.

"You’re a shitty man then!" Amicia crossed her arms, looking down at her love with pouting lips and a frown that he would never admit was too fucking cute. He rolled again, this time on his stomach. Arms latched themselves around Amicia's waist, causing her to get a small shock. Katsuki looked up at her, crimson meeting green - summer rays swirling the gold speckles secretly hidden within the glimmering emerald.

Katsuki buried himself into her abdomen, kissing her stomach making Amicia yelp. "Katsuki..!" She squeaked in alarm, her hand touching his head with a tenderness he drowned himself in every moment they got like this. He looked up only to quickly kiss her again, grumpily groaning when she tried to push him away - only for the heavy male to halfway lay himself across her soft pudgy body. "What are you.." Amicia rubs his head, confused.

'You are my shitty woman, mine only." He groaned muffly. This made Amicia stop what she was going to do next. That small spark of shock - forming into love. "I love you too Katsuki" She smiled and hugged his laying body lovingly.

It's a cool night outside, but the room felt oddly hot. Warm candle-light fluttered against the tan wallpaper of katsuki's dorm room that scattered around the large shared futon splayed on the ground.

...Want...

Katsuki sat on the futon, arms wrapped around Amicia's waist. She was on top of him, her knees locked on either side as she slightly hoisted herself a bit taller. Their eyes closed in the moment and lips mounding into bliss, Amicia held katsuki's face as he securely held her in his arms. Parting away to breathe, eyes locking together in a mixture of colours and emotions only they seemed to understand without the need of words.

She peppered and nuzzled his face with tenderness, He kissed her neck and bare shoulder with fierceness. Sighs and contentment settled into her as katsuki removed more of her button shirt to nip at the flesh of her neck.

“Hey..!” She jerked away, opening her eyes and looking over to her shoulder where she could see the way his tongue slid across his row of teeth with that heavy smirk. Amicia shook her head, a smirk of her own appearing when she tugged the back roots of his ash-blonde hair into a small fist, causing a low grunt hiss to snake out of his mouth. “You little sh-” “Don’t ruin the mood my love~” She kissed a finger to his mouth - angered eyes - turning hooded and heavy.

Katsuki rolled to the side, toppling over Amicia where she laid on her back, he on top this time.”I hate you...” , She giggled at his words, sighed when he kissed her neck and further down a of his warmth. “I hate you so much, you do this to me...” He breathed against her warm honey skin.

“I love you too...” She smiles with closed crescent eyes.

The moment stops when his phone-screen turns on. A message, unknown. Who is it from. She goes to read....he pushes her away and takes the phone - but she had seen the name.

“Get out. GET THE HELL OUT NOW!!” He shoves her out.

...Hate....

A glass jar went flying across the kitchen of their shared apartment...

It smashes. There’s more screaming. Words flying at each other, next thing there is something more than verbal - physical.

It’s cold again.

Katsuki thrusts an explosion attack towards Amicia. It’s aggressive and filled with tendency to hurt - a lot. She dodges it, barely. She’s scared but she still fights for her ground. She refuses to cry and be weak to him. “YOU LIAR!! YOU FUCKING LIAR!!” She reaches him, punches him square in the nose. “YOU SAID SHE WAS JUST A FRIEND!” She wailed, her throat hurts. her head is throbbing.

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU!?” Amicia clenched where her heart was buried underneath all that flesh, muscle and bone. Tears flooding down like two large blobs of streams.

“I HATE YOU!! I FUCKING HATE YOU AMICIA MIZUKI!!”

Blood and water stains the floor-boards.

“If you hate me that much...Then we are over”

...Betrayal...

She’s cold again.

She felt exposed - naked - even.

Mina hugged her side, the warmth radiating off her pink skin made the honey toned woman comfortable - just a bit - she smiled appreciatively. She was the first to know and your sister Y/n. The other girls who cared enough to visit her dorm in the time of need she really needed them. Then came the boys: Kaminari,sero and deku squad knew first. Then kirishima, he was last because Amicia knew that kirishima was Ka-Bakugou’s best-friend. He hugged her, she cried.

It’s only been a few days since the break-up. She left their shared apartment and lived with her best-friend. However, the news spread like wild-fire throughout UA - nosy bunches they all are. Amicia hugged her arms as she walked through the long hallways, eyes staring and mouths whispering.

For the next few days, they all tried to cheer her up:

“Let’s do this, get your mind off things!”

“You’ll feel better without him, promise”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaa! Leeeet’s gooo steeal Mr. Aizawaa’s Beean-Baaag~!”

“Cm’on gurl! Sing for me, i miss that voice of yours”

“Mizuki-chan...mutter mutter...and then...mutter mutter”

It was hard. At first. But she managed to smile at least, her heart feeling lighter little by little each day. Amicia could run and chase her friends again. Laugh, cry, cheer, scream. But everyone now and then, she would look over her shoulder to spot any ash-blonde spikes in the distance - none - heart throbbing. She still misses him, the break of a heart still cracking in her chest.

...And the most painful...

Two weeks passed and Amicia feels a little more ‘normal’. Her head is held high, a smile on her face and her walk strides in a soft rhythm. She softens to a stop, green jewels wide as she stares ahead.

Spiky ash-blonde hair in the distance, baggy clothing and that oh-so-knowing posture spewing ‘dominance’. Crimson eyes, a cold and bored gaze.

Her heart thumps in her chest, her feels for him pulsing at the sight of him. They stare at each other for a long moment. Colours mixing again - like before. She snaps out of when she sees a bob of brown hair, pink chubby cheeks and beautiful big chocolate brown eyes comes closer.

Katsuki Bakugou.

Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou’s new girlfriend.

She stops just a few steps behind him, waiting for him to go to her. Bakugou still has his eyes on Amicia. There is a look in her eyes that bakugou can’t seem to read. Same to Amicia. She goes to open her mouth to speak but she purses them and closes her eyelids shut. Sucking in a shaky breath, Amicia straightens her back and lifts her chin, fingers splayed across her heart. She opens her eyes again.

She smiles, lovingly, softly. It scares Bakugou - just a little - only a little. She mouths something. He turns and leaves with his new girl, through the doors of UA and out of sight. She watched them go - him - go. Her hand drops to her side. Her lip is quivering. She purses it when she hears Y/n call her from behind.

“Hey! You good lil’ sis?” They look at you, leaning beside you.

Amicia turns her head, glistening emerald eyes sparkling with sun rays.

“Yes. Let’s get to class before Mr. Aizawa gives us a detention”

...Acceptance...

" I still love you "

- Amicia Mizuki

______________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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trikxx · 4 years ago

Text

Song for this chapter

•just might - summer walker

• rehab winter in paris - brent faiyaz

"𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 shows canceled in a row what am I supposed to do Ceaira?!" Y/n said through the phone.

"Idk bubs i'd help you if I could but I can't this time we made a promise." "I just need ideas on another way of income Cee thats it." Y/n responded

"What about OnlyFans."

"What."

"OnlyFans. You can use your old skills and do only fans."

"Bitch the only old skill I have is stripping-" y/n stopped to think. "Boom. There you have it. And you have everything you need already so whats the issue?" Cearia said.

"What if my manager finds out?" Y/n asked. "Well lets ask him." Cearia says.

My manager. Carlos Cre. Cearia's boyfriend. Im mean yea he probably wouldn't give two fucks about me having a OnlyFans. Its mostly my rep thats on the line.

"Yoo!" Carlos said. "So Y/n wants to know if she can have a OnlyFans since ya know the income is getting low." Cearia says. " i mean yea its her life."

"Really?" "Yea, do you just don't ya know get hurt."

____

"Ok, wait thats it? That was quick." I say to my self. I walk to my room I used to practice in but now use to relieve stress. "What should I put on for my first post?" I ended up putting on a bunny outfit.

And some clear heels. I set my camera up, started recording and started my music.

____

Y/n slow walked to the pole grabbing it and walking around it. Then she jumped a little putting one leg the pole and leaning back while turning one leg and one arm holding onto the pole.

_____

Y/n ended in a split at the bottom of the pole. She the paused the music and stopped the recording.

*Incoming call from Taleé*

Heyyy Y/n!

Hey Tal

Im good what about you?

Good just a little stressed about work.

We all are right now. With no shows there's not really a lot of income for us.

Yea. Cee told me about that one site called OnlyFans.

Are you gonna do it?

I might im still debating tho and Carlos said it was ok.

DING

Hey Tal im gonna call you back.

Ok talk to you later babe.

*call ended*

I threw on some sweats and a white tee and walked to my door slightly opening it to a red haired male standing outside heavily breath. "Dud- oh shit im sorry i think have the wrong apartment." He said. I noticed that he was bleeding from his side. "Its o- hey are you ok?" I yelled as the male fell to the ground.

Not having enough time to pull him into the apartment. I quickly knelt down next to him and hovered my hands over his wound.

White speckles formed around us forming a shield. Making us invisible to the human eye.

___

The male's eye fluttered open realizing he was in a unknown room. He was laying in a soft bed under a weighted cover. "Wait my clothes." He whispered.

The boy got from under the cover noticing he had on some black sweat pants that fit perfectly. He walked out the dark room with his guard up not knowing where he was. He heard music coming from a room which had colorful lights beaming out of it.

As he got closer to the door he could clearly hear what the song was saying "yea, I just might be a hoe." He heard a voice sing along with the music.

"Oh Hey, your woke." The girl said before he could get close to the door. "I know that your a hero red riot but can I get your actual name since ya know...I saved your life."

"You did? And is this your house?" He said. "Yes now name?" "Ok it's Ejirou Kirishima. Just call me Kirishima though." Kirishima says. Y/n nodded her head "My name is y/n." She continued and walked past him to the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Uh yes kinda." Kirishima continued to look around the apartment. "Want a tour?" "Huh?" "I said do you want a tour of the apartment." Y/n repeated.

"Uh sure but did you happen to see my phone in my hero suit?" Kirishima asked "Yes its in the room you were in."

"Thanks." Kirishima said walking to go get his phone.

*10 missed calls*

5 unread messages

Bakubro💪: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU SHITTY HAIR!

Bakubro💪: DAMMIT KIRI YOU BETTER NOT HAVE GOTTEN CAPTURED.

Bakubro💪: ANSWER MY DAMN TEXT.

Kirishima: Sorry Bakubro I went to the wrong place and passed out from blood loss but when I woke up I was healed and in someone's house.

Bakubro: Its about time you answered. Send me your location im coming to you.

Kirishima: ok *location*

*Two unread messages*

Karma.: Kiri are you ok. Bakugo told me you weren't answering.

Karma.: Kirishima. This is serious just answer me this one time. for bakugo.

Kirishima❤️: im ok and i already texted Bakugo

Karma.: ok thank you babe💗.

*read*

___

Kirishima scoffs. "was she really his last resort or did she just know because of her quirk." He said to himself before coming out of the room. "Ok you can start." " ok this is the kitchen..obviously."

"This is nice." Kirishima said. "Thank you. Now heres the living room."

"Mmm." "Ok, so of course the room you were in."

"Mhm." "Guest bathroom."

"When we are done you can shower and have not there is clothes the will probably fit you in the closet in the room. Follow me up the stairs."

Kirishima makes a "o" with his mouth as we go up the stairs to my room and bathroom. "My room."

"And you live by yourself?" Kirishima asked. "Kinda. My friend stays over a lot so the guest room is kind of her room." "Mhm." "My bathroom."

"You must really love marble walls." Kirishima said with a small chuckle. "Yea."

"What about the room you were in earlier?" He asked. "Oh that, its nothing just chill room." "Can i see it?" "He Uhh.."

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

"OPEN UP RIGHT NOW UNKNOWN BASTARD!"

Y/n looked a Kirishima with an irritated look. "Do you know who that is?" Y/n said walking down the stairs. "Uh yea thats my best friend he's also a hero."

"He seems like a fucking hothead. He got issues?" Y/n said. Kirishima nodded "ok" y/n says swinging the front door open. "Would you keep it the fuck down other people live in this fucking building." Y/n said. The man looked in amusement. "W-WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU TALKING TO!" He yelled again. Y/n look him in his eyes and shut the door.

She turn to a surprised Kirishima. "I'll show the room if you tell your guard dog to back down." Y/n said. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY EXTRA!" The male yelled through the door.

"Ok."

Kirishima opens the door. "Bakugo calm down. She saved my life." Bakugo rolled his eyes and walked in taking his shoes off. "Need some water or tea after all that yelling?" The girl said. "I'll take some water." Bakugo said. "There's some room temp waters in the counter and cold ones in the fridge. I recommend the warm ones to ease the pain."

Y/n motioned for Kirishima to follow her. "Ok. I don't really care if you judge me it's just a at home hobbie.

(I depth about the room. Its like this but smaller and it has more lights and a pole i front of a mirror. There are silks and the hoops but its only one of each. Also theres a curtain in between that side and a side with a small couch and a desk with a computer and etc.)

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU." Y/n yelled. Bakugo looked scared. "YOU CANT JUST GO OPENING SHIT YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS OPENING STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!" "I-I'm sorry."

"don't apologize. just leave. Kirishima you hero outfit is in the closet in the guest room." Y/n said in a calm voice.

____

"Hey y/n can i get you number before I-" Kirishima was cut off by a piece of paper being shoved at his chest. "Here."

"Thank you." Kirishima said walking to the door. "Thank you for saving me."

1437 words

Yooo. Next chapter date is TBD.

•Y/n doesn't want many people to know her past. Only Cearia, Carlos, and Santana know.

•When Bakugo saw y/n his heart kinda fluttered but he didn't know what to do so he kept yelling.

•y/n has a second quirk that almost lost control after what Bakugo did.

Fav emoji? Heres mine 😗.

✰L O V E Y A B E B E S✰

#mha kirishima #mha x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x you #kirishima x y/n #bnha kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima

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liquidlikecats · 4 years ago

Text

Ahaha okay here's some of that good good aro gn reader & aro felix hugo f niche content. It's already posted on my ao3, which is also liquidlikecats. Originally I wrote just the first part but then eventually caved and made an even sappier sequel. Uh. Tell me what u think of it, feedback is my lifeblood

Relationships: none/can be read as a qpr or otherwise platonic relationship

Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, snuggling, I think they kiss I don't fucking remember, very touch starved like to the point where it kinda knocks you down, felix not being very good at taking care of himself

Text under the cut

Aching

A kitten had come over and was curiously sniffing on his sweat soaked hair before purring and clambering onto his heaving chest. He'd been laying here for a while now, how long exactly he had no clue, with the hot gravel of the deserted training grounds digging into his back. His tired hand arched up to gently scratch the little feline behind its ears, the other one remaining clutched about his sword.

"Fuck."

The young man cursed and returned his gaze to the dusk speckled sky dousing everything in soft light. This shit had been building up for days now but as always his pride had kept him from seeking help. Hazily he wondered whether someone would find him and should that happen, if he'd rather choose a quick end for himself or bear with the humiliation of having to be carried back to his room. Maybe he'd be lucky enough and a certain someone would notice his absence. Or maybe that'd be the worst of luck.

It wasn't the first time exhaustion and the deep ache of longing had chained him to the ground. When had he last really touched someone outside of combat? Sylvain had slung his arm over his shoulders earlier, trying to drag him to town and it'd all just been too much, days of carefully maintained balance crashing down on him. It'd sent him flying, carrying him here to do the one thing he didn't have to think about. To simply get lost in his training, the swords a calming weight in his palm and an extension of himself.

A low sigh slipped past cracked lips and he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the deep pain and exhaustion that had sunken into his very marrow and created an endless pit in his stomach.

Not that it had ever worked before. No matter how much he trained and ran himself ragged, it hadn't worked ten years ago and still didn't now. It wasn't a problem he could solve himself, no matter how much that bothered him.

The cats made it better, and if just a little bit. His fingers still diligently carded through his fluffy companion's fur and the gentle warmth and weight eased his pain a little. It would pass eventually, he reminded himself. It always retreated again, hiding in his core until it would emerge once more and slowly drown him in his craving.

Gravel crunched under secure steps, making him cringe and fight to get up. But alas, his body remained where it was, navy hair spilled over the ground and no doubt at least as dusty as the rest of him. Resigning himself to his fate, he instead focused his attention on the approaching person and managed, with much struggle, to crack and eye open and shift his head as to be able to see whomever he was unlucky enough to have run into.

The sight of you, weapons still strapped to your belts from your earlier spars, a large flask dangling from your hip and your pockets undoubtedly stuffed with pastries released the dread that had settled over him. Had it been anyone else, he would've longed to simply sink into the ground never to return, but over the years he'd begrudgingly come to stop hiding his pain around you. Usually you could tell either way.

Sturdy boots came to a halt near his side and soon after your concerned face appeared in his blurred view.

"Fe, you're still here. I couldn't find you at dinner so I got you something in case you were too caught up with training again. Doesn't look like it tho. What's up?"

You'd seated yourself beside him and were fumbling for some water. Felix just groaned and closed his eye again, the kitten still securely nestled against his palm. You chuckled and shuffled to lift his head into your lap, your fingers immediately disappearing into messy locks.

"Did you overdo it again or is this one of those situations?"

Another non-committal sound reached your ears and you tugged a little at his hair, delighted by him melting further into your hands.

"I'm guessing the other thing, then. It has been a while… You oughta drink something before I can move you. Ya think you can sit up yet?"

A slight expression of distaste furrowed his brows, but Felix nodded and let the kitten jump off him before being pulled into your lap. He sank against your chest with a sigh on his lips, head falling on your shoulder and still desperately holding onto his weapon. You let your fingers trail over his cheeks and put one arm around his waist, the other holding your uncorked flask. For a moment you were absorbed in the feeling of a warm body against yours. Even though it happened more often these days, the feeling still managed to catch both of you off guard every time. Shaking your head and returning to the current situation, you raised the water to his lips and watched him devour it in small sips.

"Wonderful. I'll sheathe your sword now, okay? I can't carry you otherwise."

He grumbled more, stating his displeasure with your plan of actions. You smiled down at his weak frame.

"Can you walk there?"

Felix frowned but had to admit to this current inability to do so.

"I thought so. Chances we'll run into anyone else are slim, if that makes it any better."

Hair brushed against your neck and your breath got momentarily caught in your throat. The man in your arms nodded once and you took the sword without resistance, returning it once more to its sheath. Your forehead shortly pressed against his temple in a reassuring gesture. You could feel him quiver.

"I'm gonna lift you up now."

Another nod into your chest, accompanied by a small sound of disgruntled approval. Getting up in the most careful manner possible you looked down at Felix, slumped and displeased in your arms. And yet, it had gotten so much easier for him to show any kind of weakness to you. A few years ago he'd have adamantly remained in whatever spot he was currently occupying and waited the pain out.

You squeezed his hand and started walking.

The short trip was as deserted as you'd anticipated, much to the relief of you both. There were already too many rumors about romantic involvement between the two of you, although neither of you ever fell in love.

You'd arrived at your destination and wrangled the fickle lock open with the spare key Fe had given you after the first time this happened, his cheeks pink and ears glowing.

The fond memory got a silent chuckle out of you.

You steered towards the bed and carefully sat down, placing the swordsman beside you. He looked even more exhausted in the dim light, dark eyebags suggesting he'd not been sleeping much again.

Felix leaned against you for support as you set to removing your armored pieces.

The moment you were done, scarred arms looped around your torso and pulled you under the covers. You were buried under the soft mounds and his warm body pressing against your chest. Trembling he hid his face in your neck and tangled your legs together. You started running your fingers through his hair and over his scalp without having to think about it at all, barely noticing the faint familiar shiver it sent down his spine.

"I'm here now, Fe. I won't leave until you want me to."

Voice filled with affection and your lips brushing against his forehead, you curled closer around him. The navy strands were dusty and smelled of sweat, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. It brought a smile to your lips as you rested your chin on top of his head.

He was heavy in your arms. His weight had always been an anchor.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your neck and hid his glowing face away from your soft gaze. The red tips of his ears still gave him away and you couldn't help but press a kiss on top of his head.

"You keep saying that."

A hint of helplessness shimmered through the words.

"And I mean it every time. If you don't want me to leave, then I won't."

A shaky breath ghosted over your skin and you instinctively pressed closer. He was safe in your arms, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other at the small of his back. You could've stayed like this until the end of time.

"I don't love you and won't ever, but I do care for you. If that's enough, I'll share my life with you. Wherever it'll lead us."

You were trembling now and took a deep breath, the familiar scents of leather, metal and sword oils washing over you in calming waves. You feared you'd said too much as you laid in waiting for an answer.

Felix was silent for a while and you were all too aware of how much the both of you were shaking.

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with an unnamed emotion.

"I don't- I've never-"

You could feel him struggling for words, arms still securely around your middle. He took a deep breath and started to speak again, this time sounding determined.

"I don't want you to leave. I don't love you either, but- you fight good. I'd be annoyed if you died."

Relieved laughter shook your form and you started peppering his flushed face with kisses, suddenly feeling very warm and fuzzy.

"No getting rid of me now."

Your body was light.

"As if I'd want to."

His was too.

Gentle

Calloused fingers come to rest upon your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness beholden for few. You needn't turn to see who just glid behind you, the swordmans touch and step being the most familiar things in the world. Closing your eyes you lean backwards into soft cushions, a serene smile caught on your lips.

When you take his hand in yours and turn ever so slightly to place a kiss in his palm, a small sigh escapes him. Soft and pliant he follows your guidance as you lead him down and into your lap, leaning against the crook of your neck as you circle your arms around his waist.

You fit so well together like this.

Even after all these years a faint blush dusts his cheeks when you lean down to pepper him with kisses. Melting further into your hold, Felix raises his head to blink at you with dazed, amber eyes. He is smiling, one hand reaching up to card through your hair, the other once more cupping your face. You cannot think of anything that fills you with as much warmth as seeing your friend so peacefully content. You can't help but chuckle, more out of happiness than amusement, and rest your forehead against his.

"Age really did mellow you out."

He snorts softly.

"You're just starting to go soft in the head."

You look at him innocently, fingers stealthily untying his hair and letting the navy locks fall down. You can't help but smile when his eyes flutter shut at the gentle caress.

"It's infectious~"

Felix laughs and leans in to kiss you. His smile is so bright it's almost blinding. He can't even pretend to be affronted with you anymore.

"You're insufferable."

_________

The soft firelight gently dances over his skin, caressing fading scars and illuminating thoughtful eyes. He is looking down to where you lay nestled against his shoulder, fast asleep and secure in his arms. It must be nearly two decades ago now that you first met, still over a decade that you promised to stay by his side.

His gaze falls upon your unringed fingers, intertwined with his own.

You never married. You never wanted to, either. It fills him with such warmth to think that you two have lived together as partners and comrades for half your lives, unbound by customs neither of you ever wished to adhere and feelings you never had.

There is such peace to be found in your companionship, the banter, touch and talk, unlike anything either of you ever could've imagined.

He moved to brush a stray lock of hair out of your face, a fond look on his own.

Maybe he really had grown soft.

#Veld writes #Aro writing #Hrgrhr.. Grhrgr. Scresms #Anyways;#I have many feelings abt Felix and someone has to make the mcfuckinh nice content #Felix Hugo Fraldarius #moss screams

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universalfanfic · 4 years ago

Note

Fae AU - The Fae King (Person A) tricks Person B into eating something in Faerie. FOR I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO FOLLOW YOUR HEART

This felt very Peyton/Lex to me. Because, let’s be real. Lex would be/has been the one to trick someone into marrying him.

This also got a bit longer than I anticipated, ha.

Peyton picked her way over moss and rotting stumps as she made her way through the forest. There was a faint path from the times she’d trekked out here now. Her canvas bag at her side rustled with paperwork and she savored the fresh air, so much better than the stuffy, stale stuff circulating her office.

Work had been following her home the last two weeks, but that didn’t mean she had to complete it indoors and miss out on more of her day. There was an opening in the trees a little less than a mile from her rental. A creek ran across it and there was a fallen tree just perfect for sitting against as she went over printed out spreadsheets and files.

Maybe some would find it easier to keep to the laptop, but her eyes were killing her by the end of the day, and more screen time would blind her if she tried.

Besides, she liked the sounds of the little creek and the crumpling of the paper, and the natural light dimming was a perfect notification for quitting time.

Peyton carefully stepped over a few speckled mushrooms and entered the small clearing.

Already the air smelled sweeter and the quiet more calming. She took a deep breath and let it out with a smile. Setting her bag on the ground, she removed her shoes and made herself comfortable against the log. As was becoming ritual, she gave herself a few minutes just to rest before getting back to work.

She thought she deserved it after already doing an exhausting eight in the office.

“So you’re the one who’s been coming out here.”

Peyton jolted to attention at the foreign voice. A man who certainly hadn’t been there before sat across the grass from her. Watching. Her instinctive reaction was to freeze. To evaluate.

He was probably around six foot, lean, with a shining scalp and piercing gray eyes. His clothes were odd for the situation. Polished black oxfords and gray slacks with a button up white shirt. Like he had just stepped out of the office and wandered off into the trees. To be fair, that’s basically what she’d done, but at least she’d taken a moment to change her shoes.

By the time she circled back to his face, Peyton realized it’d been silent an awkward amount of time and she needed to get her shoes back on if she needed to run.

“Who’re you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When she frowned he seemed to amend. “My friends call me Lex,” he said. “Can I have your name?”

Peyton’s frown didn’t dissipate. She wished there was something she could use to mask the action of grabbing her sneakers. Though if it came down to it, she could just run without them. But it would be a terrible waste of good shoes.

She lifted her chin and kept a careful watch of his hands.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable with giving you that yet.” She shot him a stiff, customer-service smile, and his gaze sharpened. “I suppose a better question would be what are you doing here?”

His posture was relaxed. She knew it wouldn’t take much for him to jump up, but his legs still looked loose and his ankles were crossed beneath him so she took comfort in that it would take him some effort to spring up.

But how had she missed him?

“This is my land,” he said.

“Oh.”

Peyton wasn’t careless. She’d done her research and the property was an empty lot still being held up by some bank the last she’d checked. It must have sold recently. Or he was lying.

“Well, then. My apologies; I wasn’t aware. I’ll be sure not to trespass again.”

But the man, Lex, shrugged, and his eyes never left her.

“You’re already here and you’ve been respectful of this space. You like it here, don’t you?”

Peyton had the unsettling feeling there was more to that question than she understood. Everything about the man gave her an odd feeling, more so than the usual stranger approaching you on the sidewalk. Maybe it was because they were out in the woods, or because she hadn’t heard him approach. Maybe it was his business attire.

She shifted one foot further underneath her and the other to the side so it’d be easier to stand in a hurry.

“I do.” She answered. “It’s very pretty out here.”

Lex smiled.

“I’m glad, Miss- You know, I feel weird not having your name.”

Giving him her name could make it laughably easy for him to find her with a basic internet search and she wasn’t sure she wanted some stranger in the woods to have that sort of power.

“My friend calls me Tonnie,” she said. And she gave him a cheeky smile to acknowledge she was using his same words.

Besides, it wasn’t a lie. One of her friends had taken up calling her that sometimes. When she was being especially annoying.

Lex’s smile grew, but there was a sharpness to it. Like her not giving him a full answer was an exciting game.

“Lovely to meet you, Tonnie.”

“Likewise,” she said. Only because it felt like it was the polite thing to say.

Peyton wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Lex still looked fairly relaxed and, besides his intense stare, had yet to do anything offensive.

Didn't mean she trusted him for beans.

But it did mean that snatching up her bag and booking it was a tad more difficult. If he just gave her a reason to run then she wouldn’t feel like an idiot wanting to do it.

“You must have recently bought the land.” She said to fill the silence. “Last I checked it was bank owned.”

“It’s been in my family for quite a few generations, actually.”

“Has it.”

Peyton’s own gaze sharpened, despite her trepidation. Perhaps he was a man who didn’t want to let go of what he’d lost.

“This is the edge of my family’s property, I’ll admit.” He offered. “But I think it’s one of my favorite spots.”

He leaned back and rested on one of his hands, and Peyton let her shoulders relax slightly.

“It’s a good spot.” She agreed. “Wooded enough to make you feel like you’re far out of town without the actual threat of getting lost.”

His gray eyes, oh dear he was close enough that she could tell, sparkled with something like amusement and he hummed in response.

“You know,” he said, “ I hope this doesn’t sound too strange, but I’m glad you came here tonight. Things at Court have been stressful, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to outside of that.”

Peyton perked up again at the tidbit of information he dropped.

“Are you a lawyer then? I actually work near a law firm in town.”

“Oh yeah?” Said Lex. “What kind of work do you do?”

She paused a moment, wondering how much she should tell him. But she decided it wasn’t anything more than one might give out in a run-of-the-mill conversation in public.

“I oversee some processes at a banking firm. But don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Details are never boring.”

“The only people who say that about banking firms are people who secretly work for the competitor.”

Lex laughed and Peyton grinned despite herself.

“You’d be surprised what you can learn about a person from what details they find important. You just have to listen.”

Peyton raised her brows.

“What about details they don’t share?”

“Oh, that tells even more.”

He was disarming. Something about the way he grinned and joked had the air of familiarity, like he was already your friend even though you just met. Usually Peyton prided herself on making fairly accurate snap judgements of people, but she still wasn’t sure what to do with him.

There was something about him. Something beyond the obvious that she couldn’t quite put her finger on which made him seem somehow other.

Peyton broke eye contact and looked around. The woods were suddenly dim and the sun sank down below the trees, threatening to go out and leave her in the dark before she made her way home.

Had she really been talking so long? It hadn’t felt like it.

But it must have because the light was clearly fading and she was actually hungry. Her stomach rumbled and she used the noise as an excuse to stand.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t realize I’d been out here so long.” She said while slipping on her shoes. “Sorry, if I kept you. I really should get going.”

Lex stood and she made sure to watch him out of the corner of her eye, but he moved slowly enough to not have her fully on edge.

“I’m the one who should apologize. I distracted you, and it sounds like I made you miss dinner.”

Peyton flushed lightly at the comment and waved her hand.

“It’s fine.”

“Please, accept this.”

He reached behind him into a satchel she hadn’t noticed and pulled out a ripe banana.

“Here,” he said. “Hopefully it will tie you over so you can get home.”

Peyton hesitated at the offer. She didn’t exactly know him, but she didn’t get the impression that he wanted to hurt her. And her gut feelings hadn’t ever steered her wrong before.

She accepted the banana with a dip of her head. After all, he hadn’t been aggressive the entire time, and he could have just overpowered her without anyone knowing already if he’d wanted to.

“Thanks,” she said.

Lex smiled.

“My pleasure.”

Another awkward pause ensued and Peyton picked at the banana peel as she figured out how to end their odd conversation.

“It was nice to meet you, Lex.”

The peel split and Peyton pulled the sections back absentmindedly. Lex kept his eyes on her face, his smile easy.

“It’s lovely speaking with you.”

She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. It felt heavier now, though that could have been some surfacing dread that she hadn’t managed to work on one thing this entire time. Peyton grunted under her breath.

If she wanted to keep her bag from spilling and use her phone flashlight to find her way home, she needed a free hand.

She bit off half the banana and ate it.

Lex’s grin widened.

“Well that’s a relief,” he said. “I was a little concerned you might just throw that away the moment you were out of sight.”

Peyton stiffened and the rest of the banana dropped from her hand.

“Excuse me?”

She felt nausea rise up and when she blinked Lex was different. His business attire was gone, replaced by strange, velvet-like pants and embroidered jacket. The Oxfords now looked like supple leather instead of their previous stiff shine.

And there was something about his skin- no. His aura? Peyton had never thought in those terms before.

“You drugged the banana.”

“No.” Lex scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Me? I only made you an offer. Which you accepted.”

Peyton may not have remembered their entire conversation verbatim, but she knew distinctly that she hadn’t accepted any offers from him.

“If I’m not drugged then how are you suddenly wearing different clothes?”

“I dropped my glamour.”

The silence rang out as Peyton took in his explanation.

“Glamour?”

“You don’t know many stories of the Fae. Do you.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Fairy tales? This guy was trying to imply that he was some fairy tale creature? She must have missed something, some sign, when they spoke that hinted at his insanity.

His clothes changed in a blink.

Peyton shook her head and pulled her bag more tightly to her side.

“I’m going to leave now. If you follow me I will call the police.”

“You can’t leave, I’m afraid.”

She finally ran. Peyton thanked her past self for putting on her good sneakers as she dashed from the clearing and back down the trail toward her house. Her heart raced in her throat, but no crashing brush or rapid breathing followed at her back.

She made it about twenty feet before vertigo struck her. Peyton stumbled sideways as the world tilted and her stomach curdled with nausea. There was a pounding in her skull and it felt like it would split her forehead open. Every step forward made the pain worse until she dropped to the ground. The only thing that brought some kind of relief was moving backwards. Peyton dropped her bag, uncaring in her pain, and scooted backwards over the forest floor.

And then all the pain faded.

Peyton opened her eyes. The gray-green bark of the trees stretched out before her, growing more gray as the sun’s light continued to fade. The little line of mushrooms she’d stepped over before lay just beyond her feet, somehow untrampled.

“That looked uncomfortable.” Lex said behind her. “But I’ll admit your dedication and determination are part of what endeared me to you.”

“You don’t know me.”

She stood and turned to face him. The dizziness from her experience had died down so that she could function, at least. But the fact that this had happened at all, that she felt sick when she tried to leave him, only made her anxiety skyrocket.

“I know enough.” He responded. “Your soul is good and you aren’t biased by the Courts. You’ll make a wonderful queen.”

Peyton felt vertigo all over again.

#answered #arranged marriage au #peyton/lex #my writing #whindsor tag

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hazel-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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

Previous || Masterlist || Next

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hardyimagines · 6 years ago

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Part 1 - Intruder

Hi could would you be interested in writing a Bane fic were he and one or two of his men need to hideout, and they come across this home kinda of hidden away or in an isolated area and a girl lives there on her own. He decides to keep her alive and eventually they fall for each other. I'd also like him to to be kinda mean and dominant. + She has to stay in main room with bane so he can make sure she doesn't escape😉 I'm sensing a smutty imagine. I like my bane a Dom with choking of course. I don't ask for much do I 🤣🤣

Part 2

———————————————————————

The mountains were tall, overlooking the lit city. Lights lined the buildings for the Christmas season, various shades of red and green. Trees twinkled with applied lights and music played in the distance, tempting people to come to their establishments and enjoy the holiday season. Bane straightened on the cliff. The jacket he wore was bulky with a line of fur, but it wasn’t doing much to protect him from the cold air that whipped around him and his men. Beneath his boots, pebbles and stones bounced from the impact of his shoe and rolled off the side of the ledge, falling down, down, down until they met the ground. It was probably a seventy foot drop. Bane wasn’t on the run. He was never on the run, he didn’t have to worry about someone overpowering him, but he did need a place to sleep at night and because his home had been invaded by the scum of the earth, he couldn’t exactly return there.

“Boss.” The shorter one of his men spoke up. His name was Oscar. “Don’t see no lights on.” He informed his leader. They needed a place to stay for the night, it didn’t matter if it was cold as well and didn’t have any source of heat, at least there would be a roof over their head. This had been the perfect spot. It was high, up out of most people’s eye line and it looked worn and abandoned. The exterior needed a lot of work done and the man was sure that the interior was just the same, but he didn’t care. Not tonight. Tonight, he just needed a bed. Bane’s boots hit the floor loudly as he made his way up the rest of the path and toward the front door. It was silent, not even the wind dared to whistle. He extended his arm, hand curling around the rusted handle before he twisted it. The wood opened without much force and creaked due to the rusted, stiff hinges. He rubbed his lips together before looking around the room. It was dusty and dark, impossible to see anything. He set his hand on the wall, tracing the soft wallpaper until his pointer finger skimmed the light switch. He flicked it on and froze at the sight.

The sink was lined with dirty dishes and it was void of a faucet. Ants raced along the countertop, no doubt fighting to get speckles and crumbs from the remaining food on the plates. Cabinets were opened here and there and the floor looked as if it were in desperate need of a deep cleansing. But Bane wasn’t fussy about any of that, no, he was a little more worried about the girl fast asleep at the kitchen table.

Your hair fell across the surface in messy waves. Despite the filthy home, you didn’t look anywhere near as bad as the place did. He squinted toward you, inspecting your features. You looked just fine. Oscar exchanged a look with Larry, Bane’s other helper, before looking back toward you. He figured this was just a bonus. They had a hostage, something to play with while they waited for morning. But bane had no intentions of harming you — scaring you, maybe, but only so you’d comply. They needed to stay here at least for the night, so they’d be doing that. Whether you said yes or not.

Bane’s thigh bumped the table on accident and the wooden legs wobbled threateningly. The motion startled your slumbering form and scared you even further when your eyes fluttered open. Glistening pools of curiosity and fear latched on to the bald man’s blue eyes. His lips twitched before dragging upwards. He pasted a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips and set his large palm down on the dirty table. A hostage wasn’t a part of the plan, but he was to expect the unexpected. Running his tongue over his lips, his mouth parted as he readied himself to speak, but your sudden movement ceased his words. The chair you were sat in groaned out noisily as the legs scraped along the tile. You rose up hurriedly, breaths deep and shallow, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly with your worried inhales and exhales. Bane watched you under a heated gaze. No fear danced in his orbs. Why would it? He wasn’t on his own. He didn’t have someone breaking in and waking him. You swallowed thickly, unable to get a single word of question or a believable threat out. Instead, you stood glued to the spot, fingers shaking as your body followed suit.

“Look at her, boss, she’s trembling.” Oscar spoke up. The man was smaller than the surrounding occupants of the room, but that didn’t stop him from being confident enough to approach. The black vest he wore matched his dark trousers. Around his waist, he had a holster and tucked away inside was no doubt a dangerous weapon. You quivered. The soles of your feet scraped the wooden floors as you backed up. He neared without hesitation. “Come here, darling, I don’t bite.”

Run. Your brain pleaded. Cry. Your mind screamed. Beg. Your brain warned. They were going to kill you. Why else were they here? The small bloke grabbed ahold of your wrist and twisted it painfully around your back. His strength didn’t match his stature so it took you by surprise. You weren’t a fighter though. You were quiet, kept to yourself. Obedient. Sweet. Gentle. Too pure for the pain and heartache that the world offered to the city below. That’s why you lived on your own in a dump. Nobody bothered you and you didn’t bother anybody — until now. Bane growled out softly.

“Easy.” He droned. The heavy thud of his boots was enough warning to silence the building cry in your throat. A painful tingle raced along the length of your arm, tearing at the nerves. “Let her go.” Bane demanded. Oscar did so without question. Your arm fell limply to your side. Rubbing the soreness to ease the pain would look weak and you knew that was the last thing that you needed to look right now. Bane crinkled his nose before stepping around the table and moving toward you. Fuzzy-minded and bleary-eyed from your sleep, you sniffled before looking toward him. “Do you speak?” He asked. It was then, as your brain began to register everything other than ‘intruders’, that you realized he wore a mask on his face. It embraced the lower half of him and created a loud hiss underneath his words. You had to strain your ears in order to comprehend him.

“Yes.” The tone of your voice was so soft. Soft enough to make bane want to take your tender throat in his palm and push you out the front door so you could be on your way. But that was too risky. He didn’t want the police showing up.

“Good.” He uttered. He didn’t look toward you further, he simply paced the length of the kitchen before coming to a stop at the counter. Photographs were laid out messily, some stained with unknown substances. He traced the corner of one with his finger before tonguing his cheek. “We need a place to stay.” He looked back toward you. “And we’ve chosen your house.”

“Lucky girl.” Larry chortled out. He sneered. A sickening smile resided on his lips and his eyes warned you to sleep with one eye open. Bane looked to Larry with a warning glare before moving his eyes back to you. Scaring you wasn’t going to do the trick. That was for when you disobeyed or acted like a brat. He inspected you closely. Faint freckles, gleaming hair, soft appearing skin and inviting eyes. He stepped toward you when you didn’t speak. What were you meant to say. ‘No’? A lot of good that would do you.

“It’ll just be for the night.” He assured you. There was no question in his tone. He wasn’t asking, he was telling. “Oscar and Larry.” He pointed toward the table. “Here’s your bed.” His eyes moved back to you. “And you, wherever your bed is, that’s my bed.” The fear in your eyes doubled, and the urge to grab a nearby knife was suffocatingly strong. But it would be so foolish. God knew what kind of weapon he had on him.

“I don’t..” Bane cocked a brow as you spoke up, testing you to deny him.

“Let me tell you something.” He stepped toward you. His hand lifted to your chin, fingers delicate as they traced your flesh. “It’ll do you no good to talk back or disagree. Comply and you’ll be alright.” He lowered his hand to the throat he’d wished to take ahold of earlier. “Bedroom.” He stated again. He felt your esophagus twitch beneath his palm as you swallowed. His grip wasn’t tight or hard so you drew back a step and swiftly stepped around him. He followed hot on your heels, blue eyes twinkling.

The living room was a wreck. Newspapers and old food sat in the place. Flies buzzed, flying from dish to dish to devour whatever was left behind and uneaten. Empty soda cans laid on their sides on the floor and coffee table and smoke poured from the fire place, a sign that the lit flame had died. You moved to the corridor and led him down the tan-painted hall to the bedroom at the end of the way. The door opened without so much as a creak. A bed resided in the center with a blue duvet. It wasn’t the biggest bed, but it would suffice. A window sat in the far right with a nearby vanity jammed pack with various knick-knacks. This was the cleanest room.

“It’s.. this is the only room.” You explained to him. “A.. apart from the bathroom which is just right there.” Pointing to the connected room which held a tub and a toilet, you folded your arms over your chest and slowly backed up.

“Itll do.” He told you quietly. He removed his weaponless holster and then his belt. Draping the accessories over the chair in the corner, he scratched the back of his head before looking toward you. “You can return to the dining room to sleep,” He ushered to the door with his pointer finger. “or stay here with me.” He licked his lips. “But you are to remain under someone’s watch at all times.” Your eyes flickered.

“You mean until morning?” Your question made bane frown.

“I mean.. until it’s safe to go.” His earlier words had been a brief comfort. Oscar and Larry were oblivious to the fact that they’d be hiding out here for a while. But Bane, he called they shots, so they wouldn’t complain. “You don’t get in my way and I won’t be in yours.” He pointed to the bed. “Now, you choose. Bed or table?” His hands moved along his stomach, rubbing the surface before he stepped toward the bed and climbed on to the comfy surface. You slowly followed after him. He didn’t seem to want to hurt you. Or touch you. But the other men.. you didnt trust them in the slightest. This one, you were sure, would’ve let them do as they pleaded and would’ve told you to ‘undress’ or ‘lay down’ if his intentions were to cause physical harm. But he didn’t. He laid down and shut his eyes. But you could tell he certainly wasn’t sleeping.

‘I don’t want to share a bed with you.’ ‘Get out.’ Stab him. Hit him. Run. Climb out the window. Scream as loud as possible. Your mind warned you to do this and that, urged you to get out and away, but you didn’t. Anxiety raced through your body and made you fidget. The quiet sound of your feet padding against the floor told Bane that you’d chosen to stay with him, and when the bed began to jiggle beneath your applied weight, it merely confirmed his initial assumption.

There wasn’t much space, but the two of you managed. He was slumped on his back and you were laid on your side, elbow folded beneath your head to act as an extra pillow. The duvet was crumpled beneath his body and the pillows were crookedly placed. You didn’t want to ask him to move though so you could curl up, so instead, you shivered at his side. So many questions filled your head. You wanted answers, but your throat was dry, tight, and it was impossible to get even a squeak of sound out. You squirmed slightly, legs accidentally skimming his own now and then. He didn’t say anything and you didn’t either. Little mumbled apologies were vacant and he didn’t offer to scoot over to give you more room.

He was so tired. He’d been on his feet all day. Bane knew it was rather foolish to fall asleep so quickly, leaving himself vulnerable to you, but there was no controlling the situation — and you, even if you had the courage to harm him, wouldn’t.

———

The embarrassment of the filthy home hit you in the morning. The sun was rising in the distance, it’s rays beginning to pour through open windows to wake the slumbering people, tucked away in their beds. You’d managed to leave the bedroom, undetected and had had about an hour to clean. The other two men who’d come along with the bald one in your bedroom were nowhere to be seen, so you’d taken advantage of their absence. The kitchen table was scrubbed clean and the dishes in the sink were halfway done. You knew it was foolish to worry about cleaning so the intruders didn’t find you repelling, but it was more than that. It was just the judgement that bothered you - it didn’t matter who it came from.

What a poor choice to leave the room without the man in the mask.

Their fingers were rough in your hair as they twisted and tugged, fighting over you. Your hipbones dug roughly into the counter you were learn against, Larry tugging you toward him as he shouted at Oscar. ‘I got first dibs, let her go’, he insisted. Oscar would then yank on you harder, bruising your scalp more so than Larry was. You winced. You pleaded. You moaned out. Internally, you begged for their boss to wake seeing as last night he didn’t seem like he was here to deal with any shenanigans. You moaned out again when Oscar lost his grip on your hair and your body was thrown into Larry’s. He didn’t have an amazing grip though either because the suddenness of your body against his made him topple over and to the floor.

Run. You did. Fool. To the bedroom. Why hadn’t you gone to the front door? Oscar was hot on your heels, sprinting along behind you to try and get to you before you could get to Bane. The door to your bedroom was thrown open roughly. The sound of it was enough to wake the man on the bed, but if it hadn’t of done it then your weight, slung on top of his own, would’ve. Bane woke with a straight face, but internally he was stunned. He sat up tiredly, eyes squinted and brows furrowed in confusion. He looked to you, curled up in a small ball at his side as a panting Oscar stood in the doorway with angry eyes and a fling of regret. And then revenge. You shifted, fearfully cowering away.

Bane sat up further, shielding you from the piercing gaze of Oscar.

“Out.” He ordered harshly. The man in the door obeyed. He twisted around and left the room without so much as an apology. The booming voices, belonging to Oscar and Larry were suddenly overlapping. Arguing. Fighting because they knew they were in trouble. Idiots. “Are you alright?” His question was dripping with concern, but it was genuine. He stood from the mattress, beginning to re-dress in the attire he’d removed the previous night.

“Your men..” You started before falling silent. This wouldn’t help. He was aware of what happened. He didn’t need a play-by-play. “I’m fine.” You whispered out. He nodded. Bane didn’t have time for this. Trouble was following and because he wasn’t a runner, he was a confronter, he needed to know what was happening at all times. Having to go down the hall and shout at grown men for trying to mess around with a younger, female hostage — it just pissed him off. It didn’t help in the slightest, it just slowed him down. He zipped the vest up before leaving the room to handle what has woken him. You curled up on your side and buried your face into your pillow before letting your eyes shut. Your fingers crossed slowly, a silent pray for the men in your dining room to leave today. What would you do if bane came back in and told you they had to stay for more time than he’d said last night. A day, okay. But any more than that.. you didn’t know what would happen.

It was then, in that moment that you realized you were on your own. You climbed off the bed hurriedly, bane’s words playing over and over in your head about how you would always be under someone’s watch. The doors to your closet opened with a loud creak. Your dainty fingers wrapped in a yellow blouse, yanking it out before you then grabbed a pair of jeans. Practically tearing your pajamas from your body, you struggled to move at a quick pace, clothing yourself in something much more appropriate before the return of Bane. And if you had time.. maybe you could get out the cracked window. It was only two stories high. Not too far of a jump. But the sudden sound of thudding boots in the hall made you freeze. Clad only in your underwear, blouse, and a pair of socks, you whimpered out in sudden anxiousness. The attempt to pull on your trousers while also watching the door was poor. Bane was seconds away from stumbling into the room to check on you and you.. well your jeans were only halfway on.

“Alright,” He spoke before he was even in the room. “I’m sorry about that, they’re both absolute idiots.” He continued to talk, his rough voice carrying down the length of the hall. “But you,” He turned the corner, just as you fastened the button on the front of your slacks. “are to tell me if they bother you again. I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen again.” It wasn’t going to anyway. Neither of them would even think about doing vile things to you after what he’d said to them. His tongue pushed against his cheek, hidden by the plastic mask on his face. “But, unfortunately for you,” He inhaled deeply, blue eyes locking on to your own as he stood in the doorway. “We are going to be here for at least a few more days.”

Your body ran hot. Skin on fire. Mouth run dry. The shiver that raced along your spine made you feel weak. No arguing, no complaining, no disagreeing. He wasn’t asking. He was telling. And all you could do was nod. You didn’t have a choice.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #bane imagine #bane x reader #the dark knight rises fanfiction

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relaxationclub · 4 years ago

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Once upon a time, a long time ago, a Rabbit mom and dad who had lots of little Rabbits. They lived in the savannah with other families of rabbits and were all different.

There were gray, red, brown, speckled, dark, lighter colors ... and among them, the smallest, a very small white Rabbit. It was as white as goat's milk when it came out of the udder and filled the calabash.

This little white rabbit was often sad and angry. When he was left alone by his brothers, by his sisters, by his friends, he thought it was because he was white. So he wanted his hair to be a different color. He hadn't understood that each Rabbit is unique. That each Rabbit has his own personality, his own hair type and his own character. He hadn't understood that like everyone else, he too was unique and worthy of being a Rabbit like everyone else.

- It's because I'm white, he said to himself, it's because I'm white.

And when he was put aside, he stayed in his corner and turned in his thoughts.

Sometimes others made fun of him because he was the smallest of all. The others, they did not understand, that a little one, you have to respect him, you have to protect him, you have to integrate him. So they allowed themselves to say mean words to him, words that hurt the heart of the little White Rabbit.

When evening arrived and the sun suddenly gave way to the moon, the little white rabbit did not think of going to curl up against the soft fur of his mother or against the long and protective hairs of his father. He also did not think of confiding in his brothers and sisters, of sharing his grief in order to receive comfort. He would sit on his own, away from others, and wept softly. He was thinking about his color, what the others had told him, had done to him, hadn't told him, hadn't done to him, and he felt bruised and hurt. One rabbit bit her ear, another pinched her paw, a third tapped her on the back. The little White Rabbit hated being treated like that but he didn't know what to do to stop it. He couldn't see that his thoughts and the way he acted was like a wall. When we're always sad and angry, no one wants to be with us. So he stayed in his corner and he dreamed. He dreamed, he dreamed, he dreamed. He dreamed of living in peace.

One fine morning, the sun rises and a very soft ray awakens the little White Rabbit. He likes sweetness. It’s so soothing, so comforting. He feels full of courage. Seeing that the others are still sleeping, he discreetly gets up and goes for a walk in the savannah. That's wonderful.

What if he meets someone who can help him?

When he arrives near a splendid flamboyant, he suddenly sees a blue Butterfly. He knows that the butterfly is wise and delicate so he decides to ask his advice:

- Hello Butterfly! I am the little white Rabbit and I would like to live in peace. I know that you are wise and delicate, will you give me advice? And he tells her about all his worries.

- I like that you want to live in peace, said the Blue Butterfly after listening to it carefully. I like that you are looking for a solution to your concerns. Me too, you know, I learned to live in peace. Before, when I was angry or angry, I zigzagged through the air and jumped on all the insects to devour them instead of calming my anger. I was visibly gaining weight by eating and I was even more furious because I was angry with myself for having gained weight. Now, when I'm in conflict, when I'm hurt or when I don't think like I do, I feel my anger, I go a little further, I stop in the air, I close my eyes and I lower wings very quickly while breathing deeply. It creates a beautiful blue light around me, like a bubble, because of my glittering wings. The more I lower my wings in place while breathing, the more I feel the calm inside of me that comes back. When the calm is there, everything is simpler. Everything is easier. So I can go to the animal that made me angry and explain to him why.

- And is that how you do to live in peace?

- Yes little white Rabbit. Remember. You too can find calm by flapping your ears and wagging your tail. If you breathe deeply, it will let off steam, chase away your grief and anger, and make you happier. You will do very well, you will see.

The little White Rabbit is happy to have received his first advice for living in peace. He warmly thanks Papillon and continues on his way in the savannah.

A little further, near the backwater, the little white rabbit meets a doe who drinks quietly. The animals of the savannah say that it is very gentle and that it is good advice.

- Hello Biche! I am the little white Rabbit and I would like to live in peace. The animals of the savannah say that you are gentle and that you never fight. Will you give me advice? And he tells her about all his worries.

- I like that you want to live in peace, replied La Biche, after having listened to him carefully. You know, arguing is part of life and it sometimes happens to me to argue too. But what I'm always trying to do is find a solution. By speaking, by listening. My legs are so delicate, I prefer to keep them to move than to kick! However, I can use my imagination to improve the situation and find solutions. A solution that is good for everyone. And if it’s too difficult, I’ll go find old grandfather Lièvre, he’s so smart! We tell him what is bothering us, he listens to us, he questions us and after listening to us he always finds an original idea to make our lives more beautiful. When there is a problem, there is always a solution!

- And is that how you do to live in peace?

- Yes little white rabbit, it's important to live with others. Remember. You too can use your imagination to find a solution. And if you can't find it, you can ask for help, your master, your mistress, your family. You will do very well, you will see.

The little White Rabbit is happy to have received his second advice for living in peace. He warmly thanks La Biche and continues on his way in the savannah.

A little further, the little white rabbit meets an elephant who eats in peace in the morning sun. Everyone knows that the Elephant is majestic and peaceful. Everyone knows that the Elephant can listen carefully to others and to all the whispers of the savannah.

- Hello Elephant! I am the little white Rabbit and I would like to live in peace. Everyone knows that you are majestic and peaceful. Everyone knows that you always listen carefully to the whispers of the savannah and each of us. Will you give me advice? And he told her all his worries.

- I like that you want to live in peace, replied the Elephant, after having listened to him carefully. You know, with my big ears I learned to hear things that others don’t hear. So if you're looking for ways to live in peace, listen to me. When I was young, I was lonely, I kept in myself what was bothering me, and I didn't listen to anything. I was often angry or sad and didn't tell anyone. I was sulking alone in my corner. And then I only thought of myself. I didn't care about others, I imagined they didn't want me. But today, you see, I can listen inside of me. I also learned to listen carefully to others and to stop imagining things about them or myself. I can now say what I think, what I want and how I feel. I listen to others because I am interested in what they feel in their hearts. We know each other better. We understand each other better. We get along better. I am no longer afraid of them and they are no longer afraid of me.

- And is that how you do to live in peace?

- Yes little white Rabbit. Remember, you too can listen. You too can speak. With respect, you will avoid a lot of arguments and your life will be much happier. You will do very well, you will see.

The little White Rabbit is happy to have received his third advice for living in peace. He warmly thanks the Elephant and continues on his way in the savannah. He feels light and he wants to go home. He is a counselor for living in peace and it does him good.

When he arrives, he meets a group of little Rabbits who laugh at him. He feels his anger rising, but instead of closing like the other times, he continues on his way and settles down behind a tree. There, like the Blue Butterfly, it flaps its ears and wags its tail to let off steam and breathe deeply. This creates a beautiful white bubble around it. A bubble that protects him. It makes him laugh to gesticulate like that all alone behind his tree and he likes to laugh, he feels better. So he does like the Elephant, he listens to hear the whispers of the savannah and it calms him. Then he listens to what's going on inside him to find a solution like the Doe. He discovers all amazed that there are ideas inside him. Lots of ideas. So he comes back to the group of little Rabbits and he talks to them quietly. He asks them why they laugh at him? He tells them how he feels, but also how he would like to be treated. The others are astonished, they are not used to hearing the little white rabbit talking to them. They're not used to seeing him happy either, and that makes them want to take an interest in him. Listening to him, they realize that he just wants to be with them and that makes them happy.

- I think it's a shame that you make fun of me. I wonder if you would like us to make fun of you? You are colorful, I am white, we are all unique and if we played together rather than arguing? I don't like being alone and I wonder what games you like. You know, I’m a kid, it’s convenient for others to have a little one. I can slip into certain places where some cannot go. So, are we playing?

The little Rabbits are amazed. The little white rabbit never talked to them like that and it motivates them to play with him.

Coming home that evening, the little White Rabbit is really happy and proud.

- It is not that complicated, to live in peace, he said to himself, and during the meal he tells everything to his parents and his brothers and sisters. He tells them how to flap their legs to let off steam and breathe to calm themselves down, how to speak to find solutions, who to go to for help when you have concerns, how to listen to the whispers of the savannah and inside of yourself, how to have humor and fun, how to listen and tell the truth to others. His parents listen to him carefully. They see that he trusts, that he changes and are proud of him. Little white rabbit becomes big. His siblings are amazed. Spotted rabbit and Red rabbit smell a touch of jealousy. They have not yet understood that they can also follow good advice for living in peace. There's no one to envy, good ideas, anyone can use them.

In his burrow that evening, the little white rabbit feels good. He knows he can confide, share with others and interest them. He thinks back to his day and decides to invent new ideas for living in peace every day. Then he falls asleep gently. He now lives in a world that no longer scares him. He feels gentle and safe, good with others, free and joyful. He is at peace.

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ageofevermore · 4 years ago

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the full moon is coming videos here , here

other miscellaneous irl blurbs here

enjoy 6k+ words of me getting carried away, then abruptly ending this blurb

Emma was slightly uneasy, fueled with maternal anxieties as she sipped on a chilled water bottle. She had swiped it from Sprayberry's clutches minutes ago, and the poor boy had yet to realize it. They were all severely jet-lagged, hardly awake yet but managing with their ever growing excitement. Her hand was clutched in Ellery's, a grin on her face as the two of them chattered endlessly. They had caught the same flight over to France, but even spending so many hours in a confined space proved to do them no harm. Dylan had tuned them out hours ago, using the baby as an excuse to be distracted. Emma hadn't fought him much on that, thankful to have a few hours to herself while her best friend and Dylan fussed over the five month old.

To say that luxury was short lived was majorly overlooked. The minute they landed Dylan and Ellery were ushered off to another section of the airport, Emma and Logan being led to customs. The baby had been fussy for hours after that, and despite Logan tagging along to help out, nothing had calmed Everly besides her mothers attentive touch. Emma was officially running on four hours of sleep, and she wasn't sure how her eyelids even managed to stay open.

She had left Logan and Everly in the hotel room just a few blocks from the convention center earlier that morning, pre-ordering her friend a coffee as a gesture of thanks. Not every twenty-year-old jumped at the chance of taking a fifteen hour flight to France only to be a babysitter.

"Makeup did a good job." Ellery teased, laughing when Emma dug her fingertips into her sides, a taunting grin on her face that had them both in fits of delirious laughter. They pulled apart quickly after, rummaging through the pile of French candies and snacks.

When they got the two minute signal, both girls grabbed a handful of hard candy, letting it fall into their mouths without much care. Dylan had witnessed it occur, rolling his eyes at his sister and his best, maybe more then friend, friend.

They had a steady thing going since well before Everly's birth, but only after did Dylan truly prove he wasn't just in it for the chase. He had stayed over on nights when Emma had begged him to just go home and be a normal kid on her behalf. He had changed diapers at three in the morning, and sat through breastfeeding's at four without complaint. He had been her rock for months now, and steadily both of them were craving more.

"How are you late?" Emma asked Holland around a mouthful of pastel candy, "Isn't your hotel the closest?" Holland wrinkled her nose at the sight, painfully accustomed to Emma's delirious habits.

"We got lost." Holland exclaimed, "Took a left when we should have went straight, and then when we should have made a right we went straight."

Emma rolled her eyes, swallowing the mouthful of candy before bringing Holland in for a tight hug. She hadn't seen much of the redhead in recent months, being cooped up in her apartment with Dylan and occasionally her friends from back in Jersey. She was taking her time settling into the whole parenting routine, but she would never miss an opportunity for fan interaction.

When they were lined up to start heading out, Sprayberry had finally noticed Emma clutching his water bottle, the sharpie painted cap rubbing off on her fingertips as she fiddled with it. He snatched it back, taking a swig, before handing it back.

"Could've just asked." He teased.

"That wouldn't have been as fun. Besides, you're oblivious when your tired." Emma concluded, cheekily taking another sip of the water and finishing it off. She threw it out, having just enough time to smooth down her shirt before they were being called out on stage.

Ryan went out first, then Dylan, Ellery, Megan, Emma, Crystal, Holland, and Shelley. It was a line-up of one badass women after another, which didn't happen very often in the land of teen wolf conventions. The show wasn't totally male dominated, but the numbers were slightly uneven when it came to promotion.

Emma took her seat between Crystal and Megan, smiling widely at the two. Crystal gave her hands a few squeezes before dropping them and grabbing the water bottle given to her by a stagehand.

Emma pulled out her phone, sending Logan a text as the moderator asked Crystal, Megan, and Ellery about their experience and exposure to France. She was answered immediately with a picture of her munchkin. The bright blue eyes of her baby were slowly earning speckles of darker blue and brown, but her large gummy grin was still the same even behind a pacifier. Her tan onesie decorated with skin tone colored rainbows was undone at the bottom, a recent habit Everly was getting into.

Crystal had leaned over just in time to see the picture, cooing in Emma's ear as she typed out a response before putting her phone away, giving the fans her undivided attention. She looked up at Crystal with a grin, glad to be reunited with the girl.

It wasn't long before they were getting into fan questions, and the interpreter was listening intently. "She wants to know what you miss the most."

"The long hours of work. I miss that, seriously." Dylan exclaimed after a moment of his drawn out um, "I miss having purpose." He joked, Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes at him, although she did miss the long nights. Anytime you created relationships on set and then put them to the test during fraturdays or fifteen hour shoots was always exhilarating.

"People." Holland sang, "I think you miss the people, I miss JR and Ian acting like they're an old married couple." Holland paused when the crowd erupted into screams, a smile breaking her lips. "Right, you know what I'm taking about? I genuinely actually miss that."

Emma grinned, nodding her head at the many memories of JR and Ian's bickering.

"I miss school. During night shots, taking math tests at three in the morning. It sounds like absolute torture, and it was, many tears were shed in that room, but it was always unofficial crackhead shit. I think I gave Spray a concussion one time." Emma grinned, biting down on her bottom lip when laughter arose at her answer. Sprayberry didn't miss a beat though, having been waiting for this moment for at least three years.

It was nearly four in the morning during season six, the both of then were slowly finishing up their senior year, and through delirium they'd decided yoga would be a good idea. They had gotten half way through the first pose before Emma slipped off of his shoulders and the both of them tumbled to the ground. Jeff hadn't let them in the room together for nearly a month after that.

"You did! I was out of choreo for a week." He fed into the microphone.

"It wasn't a life threatening injury, you're fine." She rolled her eyes, before looking at the crowd who. The majority was teenage girls, and they were all collectively giggling at the banter. "He's fine."

Emma turned her head, sticking her tongue out at Sprayberry before she fell back in her seat laughing. Their dynamic had never changed, though being surrounded by old friends had brought out a spark that had been slowly fading with time and adulthood.

"Shelley, would you like to say something?" The moderator questioned, taking Shelley's elaborate hand gestures as her wanting to say something. Emma grinned at the shocked expression on her face before she covered it up.

"The people." She mused, "I miss the people, I miss catching up with them. I miss you guys." Shelley smiled earning cheers to go around the room.

Emma looked down at her phone, seeing the screen light up beneath her leg. From the way it was positioned she could see that it was Logan sending her pictures, she could only assume Everly was being a little shit and using her time away from Emma to meet new milestones.

"Hi, um, what was your favorite scene to film?" A fan asked. Emma had missed this, it hadn't been too long since she'd had this kind of exposure, but it wasn't as painfully frequent as it once was. Emma could never find a medium she liked, always bending more towards a side then a middle.

"My favorite scenes to film were also the worst scenes to film, whenever we had huge ensemble because they would take forever. But it was also fun because everyone was in the scene, so there was a lot of goofing off and having fun. But you would shoot certain scenes for weeks, it felt like, at least days, but your at least having fun with the same people, just like up here. We can all have fun when we're not being professional."

Dylan leaned over the look in his blue eyes gleaming as he knew his voice wouldn't be carried far into the audience because he didn't have a mic, "Do you know how to be professional?"

It was a joke from years ago, one that hadn't been brought up in at least a few months. Emma grinned leaning forward just the same, the glint in her eyes dangerous with energy, "I'll cut your balls off."

The both of them laughed as they leaned back. They weren't sure why that had been so funny, but filming season four had lead to it's creation one morning between Tuesday and Wednesday. Emma was pretty she had been nearly asleep with her head in Sprayberry's lap when he made the joke, and her groggy response had been a tad violent.

Megan was still laughing when she started explaining her answer, being handed a microphone from Holland so the audience could hear her. Crystal glanced over at Emma, sharing a meaningful look with the girl. She was always very put together during panels, the least likely of the cast to go off on wild rants of what happened behind the scenes.

"Yeah that being said, I love to do all my own stunts. Although, that being said, I don't do all my own stunts, my stunt double was amazing, but I kind of love being physical especially because most of those scenes are at night, so it wakes you up it makes you be very aware. But, yeah, those were my favorite scenes. The stunt work, and also, so this question comes up a lot and were asked a lot, and every single time that I'm asked I feel like my scenes always change, and I just thought about the scene in the pilot Holland with you and Emma, at the lacrosse game?" Crystal smiled, at the memory that resurfaced. The pilot was so long ago, filmed nearly nine years ago, but memories were still so vivid.

"Oh yeah." Holland grinned, Emma smiled at the memory.

"You were so brilliant in that scene." Crystal grinned, "But it was the first time that we got to hang out as like normal people. I don't know, it was a great scene with you guys." She grinned, making heart pumping motions with her hands when the crowd awed.

"During that scene about lacrosse I was just talking about getting fired before i had basically even been hired, like, i just hope i make it for a second season, you don't understand, you don't understand. So that's what we were -- that's what I was complaining to Crystal and Em about in the bleachers during that scene." Holland laughed, "But yeah that was a fun scene."

"It was cold too!" Emma added, "Holland and I were in mini skirts and booty shorts."

"It was so cold." Holland agreed, "And, this is a zinger, Atlanta hadn't had a lot of production at that point so there's certain tricks when your filming in cold weather to wear like under lays, and we didn't have those under layers. So we were so bitterly cold during our pilot." Holland looked over at Crystal who was nodding along to her story, a smile breaking her lips when another memory struck Holland, "And our trailer caught on fire, hair and makeup, so we had to get the hell out of dodge."

Shelley grabbed the microphone from Holland a blank gleam in her eyes, "Shit, I was listening to you guys I haven't been thinking. I really enjoy, I'll say since it's who I basically started working with, Dylan O'Brien--" The crowd went up into cheers at just the mention of his name and Emma grinned, "Yeah, that was really my first taste of Teen Wolf and he was just a great scene partner, and obviously we had so much fun, to much fun. I think we laughed, you know, mostly when you're not supposed to. But you know, our scenes always turned out different then I think either of us expected, and there was always some cool, weird thing that would happen, I don't know." Shelley waved off her answer, clearly having initially pulled it from her ass with being on the spot.

"Ellery, Emma, do you have anything?" The moderator asked so she knew if she could begin translating what what already been said.

"I like the scene in Motel California with Ro, Posey," Emma stressed, she had referred to him as Ro, or Rosie multiple times before, but it wasn't an obvious give away that she was referring to Tyler and that often slipped her mind. "When Ellie says she loves him, that was a sweet moment. I don't know that's the only one I can remember, I blocked the first three seasons out and then season six was overrun with spiders."

Ellery had started talking before she was even offered a microphone, her soft voice picking up when Dylan shoved on into her hands. "We had to do a scene in my episode, where we were like fighting. We had to like, get in each others face, I don't think you got it, but it was like really funny."

"Like real life." Shelley interjected.

"Yeah. Exactly! Cause we don't really fight," Sprayberry shrugged his shoulders, and Ellery rolled her eyes in annoyance, "Maybe a little bit, maybe sometimes. It was fun though, cause we actually felt like real siblings."

Dylan grabbed the microphone from Ellery, his lips pinching upwards in a smirk. "We never feel like we're siblings unless we're on a TV show." Emma rolled his words, knowing full well that Dylan adored his little sister more then anything else in the world, although she had an itching suspicion that her baby was beginning to take Ellery's place. "Yeah that was fun because they let us improve a lot which was cool. Um, my favorite scenes are the easy ones. No, uh, the i fell in a hole scene is really popular, I guess. That's one of my favorite scenes that i did film because that started a whole new part of my character, and that opened up the comedic side of my character because before that I was just playing angry, and emotional all the time, and it got kind of tiring, and if by doing that it allowed people to see my character in a different light..."

Emma had tried to follow Spray's words, but she drifted off in thought when he phone buzzed again. Was it Everly? She was sure Logan would have called or gotten into contact with her PA for the day, but she couldn't help but worry. She had taken Everly all over, but never had they been separated in a foreign country. Mom guilt was beginning to eat her up inside, but she forced a smile onto he lips and took a peak down at her phone. She breathed out a sigh, seeing that it was just a picture of Everly, her hands and knees pressed to the floor as she mastered the art of crawling.

"If there had been a season seven, would you have wanted to be in it?" The moderator translated. It was a unanimous answer instantly, heads bobbing and yes's being mumbled into the microphones.

"Do you have any new projects?"

Dylan looked around, seeing that everyone was busy in their own little side conversation so he began to mumble before finding an answer, "Do you guys know Hulu?"

"Light as a feather!" A girl yelled from the audience, attempting to do an American accent but sounding overly southern. Emma giggled, pushing a few strands of hair from her eyes before looking over towards Dylan.

He went over what it was, looking between Ellery and Ryan every few words. He never was good at press, which made Emma wonder why he ranted and raved about it after every convention.

"Anybody else?"

Emma accepted the microphone from Shelley, "I have a movie called After out next year. That's all I can say."

The stage went silent once more, the remaining actors around Emma all either happily our of work or actively looking. "Anyone else have new projects they would like to talk about?"

"No." Shelley exclaimed, "We're retired."

The moderator began to translate when Emma pinched her eyebrows together, turning towards Megan with a small frown, "You have a project." She nudged her gently, her lips turning upwards into a smirk when Megan began to fiddle with her fingers.

Megan had collected a rainstorm of applause for her new gig on Charmed, and Emma smiled, poking at the girl with a taunting grin. Megan laughed and the two fell into each other, whispering about nonsense while the panel moderator directed attention to Shelley.

"Ryan just reminded me about a role I've been on hold for, um, but it's to play a former beauty queen and former addict, so fingers crossed."

"True life story." He mumbled into the mic, watching Shelley's cheeks heat up.

"Miss Teen USA 2004." Emma projected, grinning widely when Shelley flipped her off. That had been a constantly running joke between them for years, she couldn't help but break away into little giggles and grins.

"It's based on my life." She admitted, "I'm not a former addict though." Shelley mimicked downing a glass of alcohol and Emma laughed loudly, mumbling an apology as she giggled into her knees.

The next question was about their preferred favorite season, and the audience had gone into a fit of sadness after Crystal answer 3b. Emma frowned as well, recalling the hardships they had all went through while filming and bringing to life such a traumatic event. Her own character, Ellie, had been a wreck for nearly an entire season to follow. It was an arc Emma loved playing out, having been in that position one to many times before facing the death of a multiple loved ones, but it had also put a pause on the independent women her character was becoming.

She had answered with season four, for that exact reasoning, and than handed the microphone off to Megan. She laughed when Megan answered with season 3b and 4, and then went on about how those seasons were the tipping point when the fandom hated her for taking Derek away.

Dylan grabbed the microphone from Ellery after she answered season 6b by default. "I swear to god, if you don't say season five!" She warned.

"I liked doing 6A and 6B." Emma gasped at his answer, leaning forward to grab at the the small multi-colored hard candies, pelting them towards him aggressively. They showered down on him and Ellery, and the latter of the pair laughed loudly.

Dylan threw the candy back at Emma, his smile wide and taunting as the girl flipped him off with a playful glare. "Why season six?" She demanded to know. "It was literally full of spiders."

DAY 2

Emma had gotten more sleep tonight, thankfully. She hadn't gone to the party with the rest of the cast, instead turning in for a quiet night in her hotel room with her baby and best friend. Logan had been more then happy to have Emma with her as the two of them watched Disney movies, hardly caring that although their excuse for watching children's movies was the baby in the room, Everly was more interested in her feet then she was Tinkerbell and Elsa.

She was in between Holland and Sprayberry for the group panel that morning, sipping on a Starbucks refresher while the moderator asked about the party. Logan had gotten up with Everly just before six thirty, surprising Emma with a few extra minutes of sleep and a refreshing wakeup call.

Dylan reached for the cup, eyeing the light pink liquid. He had ordered for Emma many times before, usually supplying the younger girl with a strawberry lemonade but her drink was evolving by the month it seemed. Emma rolled her eyes playfully, handing the cup to Dylan and watching as her quizfully took a sip. He scrunched his nose up at first, but went in for another gulp and decided it wasn't as bad as he initially thought.

When asked what their favorite line was, the answers were immediate without any need to think, "Deer." Shelley exclaimed.

"A girls gotta eat."

"I fell in a hole."

Emma couldn't help but giggle at the memory, grabbing the microphone from Dylan's hand, "Always." She turned to give the microphone to Holland, sending the redhead a wink considering that line was almost always directed towards her.

"What the hell is a Stiles."

"We protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Ellery's answer was lame, but in the blondes defense she had only made an appearance in one episode. Emma just grinned, to busy making weird faces at Dylan through her impressive fit of energy. She had slept great considering the three am feeding, as well as being in an entirely different country and a hotel bed.

The two of them weren't paying as much attention as they should've been, breaking out into grins when they finally pulled their attention from their moment of weird expressions to listen to the moderator.

Froy had answered the question first, not missing a beat when he lifted the microphone to his mouth and claimed that in his free time he liked to do auditions for other projects. Shelley praised his efforts, her and Emma sharing a mutual distaste for the audition process. Most actors hated auditioning, feeling unnatural and like a ridiculed prop, but it was a necessary evil most times. Emma was convinced there was no better news then when her agent calls and tells her about a role she would only have to chemistry read for.

"What we like to do?" Ryan asked, "I like to get drunk and play with cats." He easily shrugged at the answer and Emma had to hide her grin. She had witnessed a hungover Ryan playing with animals on many occasions, and the sight never failed to be adorable.

It was no shock to Emma when Ellery answered wrestling and Crystal answered cooking. It had been a few weeks since she'd managed to take the drive to Crystal's place, but almost every night she was sent a new recipe that she said she would try and almost never did. Crystal knew this of course, but she also knew although Emma lied through her teeth about commitment, she enjoyed the texts and thought of somebody having her on their mind.

"Reading, hiking, I like the outdoors, the mountains in particular. So, I'll do a lot of audio books when I hike, and I camp. I love camping, so that's usually where I am." Holland grinned before handing the microphone off to Emma.

"I love sleeping." She exclaimed, a goofy grin on her face at the idea. "Usually, I'm hanging out with my baby, or this goon. Sometimes I'll take a random dance class." She nudged a thumb at Dylan, the two of them practically roommates. It wasn't often that Emma spent the night alone with Everly, having to force Dylan back to his own house so there was at least a small reason for him to be paying monthly bills and utilities.

She handed the microphone to Dylan, smiling softly at him before taking another sip of her drink. The way Dylan was sitting looked either genius level comfortable or completely horrible for his joints. She wouldn't be surprise if in a few minutes he'd start complaining about his tailbone or his back, but for the moment he was completely spaced out thinking of an answer.

"Um, I like doing Muay Thai, and wrestling, and I like reading. And um, spending time with this goon." He returned the favor, his grin sheepish when he snapped his gaze to Emma who was playfully rolling her eyes and kicking at his leg with her vans covered foot. Neither one of them missed the way Shelley excitedly gasped at their answers. The pair couldn't go a day without Shelley asking if they'd made it official yet.

Emma was sure she wouldn't say no if Dylan asked, but the guilt of tying him down with a kid at twenty-years-old was a lot of process. She was still only nineteen, they had so much life to live.

Megan took the microphone from Dylan, "Exercising. I just got into yoga, I also just got into Barry's bootcamp which is some intense stuff, and I also just also, also just also, I'm really tired, um, I got into cooking as well, I got into hors d'oeuvres, just getting all into that. And yeah, auditioning. I hate it, but it's what I do in my free time."

"Lucky." Shelley exclaimed when she grabbed the microphone, Emma laughed, shaking her head at the girl. They'd spent many nights curled up on Shelley's bed, or in Emma's, just talking about what the future held for them creatively. It wasn't like their opportunities were limited, rather the work offered way dry. It was either to far fetched from themselves, to boringly similar, or a role to close to one they'd played before. "I love to dance, and uh, I mean, Spanish, duolingo my app."

Emma and Dylan were once again in their own world. They were energized on sleep, Dylan getting an extra boost from the coffee he sipped tenderly. Emma had never really gotten into drinking it, though Holland had tried on multiple occasions to pass her an americano while on set. Kicking at him a little to hard, Emma flinched when she missed his leg and instead rammed her foot into the leg of his chair.

Sprayberry doubled over in laughter whilst Emma pouted, attempting to nurse the ache in her toes but distracting herself with the Starbucks refresher in her hands. She hadn't been kicking him all that hard, just little taps that would become annoying, which was her goal, but apparently the chair had other opinions of her pestering.

The next question was about what era they'd like the live in. Emma's answer hadn't changed since she was seven years old, the nineties being a time she would have liked to experience, or at least remember, because she couldn't deny that she did technically live during them, although it was as an infant.

"The sixties." Shelley answered.

"Considering my ancestry, right now. For free." Megan exclaimed and Emma couldn't help but giggle, though the weight of her statement weighed true and was something Emma thought about too frequently. She was a person of color living in America, but despite her mixed heritage she wasn't called out as often as her dark-skinned colleges and friends, but that didn't mean she was free of any racist interactions.

"Now might be the best time." Dylan agreed, "Um, I would say the nineties, what no! Like the early nineties, when nirvana was a big thing. Like I wish I lived in Seattle when those bands were all around because they were all friends and I would have liked to be apart of a band like that. Now all music is shit. Let me know how it was, yeah." He laughed.

"Is it cool if I say the nineties too? I don't have good reasoning, I just want to know what the hype was about Blockbuster."

"Did you never go to a blockbuster?" Ryan asked, leaning forward in his chair so his voice traveled to Emma.

"No, it was a, here's Netflix, kind of thing."

"When were you born?" His eyes were wide in shock now, clearly interested in the upbringing Emma had considering she hadn't even visited a blockbuster.

"End of ninety-eight." Emma grinned at his exasperated face, "So I have probably been to a blockbuster, but not that I can remember."

Holland had a blissfully teasing glint in her green eyes when Emma turned towards her and offered her the microphone. It was a given to be picked at because of her age. Being twelve and working with twenty and thirty-year-olds just came with the teasing territory. She didn't mind though, usually because Holland always came to set the next day with random products from the nineties, claiming it was to further educate Emma, when really it was just to give her an excuse to buy them on amazon at two am.

The next question wasn't as light hearted, a girl standing up and asking what advice they had for somebody that's sad. Emma had figured out from personal experience that when a question like that is asked it's never for somebody else or conspired out of the blue, it's somebody that's going through a hard time and needs to hear something other then their own internal monologue.

Froy and Ryan had given inklings of advice whilst Emma was in her own head, trying to find words that could soothe. She had faced depressive episodes that lasted weeks and months, and she had felt sadness that lasted days. The two wore different faces, but often they were confused and shoved into the same category. It was a category that not many social outlets or people liked to touch upon.

"I think it is important to realize it is completely fine to feel sad, it's not a bad thing, in fact it only feels really bad when we try to actively push it away. Some of the most beautiful literature, and poetry, and art, and exploration has come from people feeling sad, and in fact if we didn't feel sad we wouldn't know what it would be to feel happiness. If we didn't have heartbreak we wouldn't know what extreme love would feel like, sadness is apart of our human experience and it's something we need to experience, and I think that when you accept okay, I feel sad today, and you don't try to actively push against it lightens it. I think it's just important to realize we actually need it, and it can provide great perspective if you let it, and learn from it." Crystal spoke, her words hitting Emma deeply. She knew the feeling of denial all to well, and pushing aside what she was actually feeling had been a default reflex since before she could remember. It had gotten so bad at one point, there had been a time when she couldn't even name what happiness was. She had pushed everything away to the point where she felt numb.

Emma accepted the microphone from Holland after the girl shared, her heart heavy at the topic they were touching at, "I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder when I was eleven and depression when I was thirteen. I think what helped me the most was looking at it from the perspective that shit happens. I think it's so ignorant when people assume you're incapable of functioning with a mental illness, or being medicated is the only way to deal with it. Letting yourself feel anything that's not happiness has such a negative stigma in society, and you're fed bullshit by so many outlets. I just take a step back from it all. When I have the time to stay home, I stay home. Sometimes I sit in silence for days, and I don't talk to anybody. It's just about finding what works for you."

Emma didn't think twice about handing the microphone off to Dylan. She had never been opposed to talking about her own struggles, but it was a conversation controversial to some, and her emotions were so heavily guarded it was hard to express them at times. Sprayberry offered Emma a genuine smile before he tried to find his own remedies at the tip of his tongue.

She didn't really listen to much to what her other former cast-mates said, busy picking at the skin around her nails and starring off into the audience. Miniscule details were catching her attention, her heart beating in her ears. She wasn't good at being vulnerable, or listening to other people being vulnerable. She had gotten better at it, but it was still able to make her antsy.

That was the last question of the panel, and happily Emma accepted Dylan's hand when he helped her down the stage stairs. His touch had brought her out of the distracted daze she'd fallen into, but the topic still weighed heavily on her. She pulled her phone from the waistband of her pants, frowning curiously when she noticed that Logan hadn't sent her any messages.

When they rounded the corner to a green room, Emma was slightly taken aback to see Logan smiling sheepishly. Her baby was wide away, suckling on a pacifier and playing with her fingers, no sign of a nap in her wide blue eyes.

"You left with my phone." Logan held up the phone in her hands, proving to Emma that the phone she'd been checking all morning hadn't been her own. She hadn't even realized that the case and background was different, to caught up with everything else going on. "And I couldn't get into yours, because you changed the password, again."

Ellery and Dylan both made an advance for the baby at the same time, glaring at each other childishly. Everly didn't mind the attention though, soft coos falling from around her pacifier.

"Did she nap at all?" Emma sighed, switching Logan's phone for her own when she came close enough to the blonde. "I swear if you leave me with an overtired baby later, I'll have your head."

Logan rolled her eyes, "Princess here decided she wanted to sleep until ten this morning." Emma gaped at the news, looking over at her baby with a betrayed gleam. Dylan had her cuddled up into his chest, hands softly caressing's her thin and fragile hair.

"Ten?" Emma whined. She was lucky if Everly slept in past seven. She had quickly learned how to do basic house chores with a baby on in her embrace. "You going to head back to the hotel?"

Logan had mentioned a trip to the shops yesterday, so Emma wouldn't be surprised if she came back to the hotel later and her daughter had an entirely new wardrobe. Logan didn't even need to answer for Emma to roll her eyes. "Don't buy all of France, please." She bargained.

"I'll try not to babes." Logan reached for Everly, hardly bothered by the teary gleam she received. "Say bye to Mommy." Emma pressed a kiss to the babies head before Logan and Evie were gone again, off to spend too much money on tiny shoes and clothes.

Her mood had improved greatly, turning to give Dylan a wide grin and pull him over to the large stack of sweets. Shelley was already rummaging through them with Froy, extending a chocolate covered wafer to Emma the second she approached.

This was exactly the place she wanted to be.

#teen wolf #emma james #give me your all miscellaneous blurbs #give me your all #ellie mccall #emeline james #emma sprayberry #everly james

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