#but a lot i had specific pairs/scenarios/visions in mind

[cerealmonster15]

"the caterella playlist isnt all trey/cater" i say as the next one i have from the prompts is in fact another trey/cater

[ireadwithmyears]

How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Part two|visually impaired reader masterlist

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷 

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind. 

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself. 

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too. 

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away. 

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching. 

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck.  “Are all I want.” 

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

*

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time. 

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features. 

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained. 

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly. 

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room. 

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

*

Echo🩷 

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all. 

Your eyes were shut tightly, and  your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head. 

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way. 

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over. 

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.  

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed. 

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.  

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love. 

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important. 

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat. 

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

*

Wrecker🩷 

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified. 

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow. 

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand. 

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement. 

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things. 

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning  eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing. 

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic. 

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional. 

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can  tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

*

Crosshair🩷 

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is. 

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access 

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest. 

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove. 

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot. 

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat. 

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap  around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream. 

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you. 

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours,  allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

[fanworldbuildingfun]

Okay this is NOT what I expected XD

I will freely admit that I was leaning into idea of “Desmond had to go because Calculations were only accepting one lynch point, which Layla became, so for Desmond to return, Layla had to go” when I was writing the ask

(and hey, let the poor guy be selfish for once)

But I like your version so much more! Specifically, the “Desmond is Sigyn’s Sage” part. Given how invested Isu were in Desmond’s future, it’s entirely possible steps were taken to keep the resurfacing memories separate from Desmond. Dying would have… Put them on more equal ground, so to say? And thus, in the Grey, Desmond and Sygun could have met and spent time learning of each other?

Given how the story of Sygun goes, I have a feeling she would have had as much cause to dislike her fellow Isu as Desmond, seeing as they led to her children’s demise

I also propose that we may do a degree of conflation of stories here?

Nari/Narfi and Váli have slightly different origins depending on which version of Edda we are looking at. Either both are children of Sigyn and Loki, or only one of them is the child of each parent. I’d go with the first, but also suggest that Váli, upon being turned into a wolf, is taken by Loki and is given a new name. Fenrir. A way to save one of his children, and to give them a new start (possibly a new memory?). Living with knowing you killed, if accidentally, your sibling, is not something a child should ever do

(Tbh if we compare the story of Sigyn and Loki to AC stories, this situation reminds me of Bayek and Aya’s relationship. Loki is in Aya’s role here – distancing and fleeing the marriage. Sigyn is Bayek, loyal to the last possible moment)

This would also set up a reason for why Aletheia/Angrboda doesn’t want Sygun to know about Fenrir

Less of “Sigyn is a villain” and more of “If she learns of him, there is a chance Sygun and Loki would have ground to reconnect”. I do realize I’m making Angrboda more of a homewrecker here ^^* But consider this: Fenrir is either mentioned as sole/eldest child of Angrboda and Loki. Thus helping to restore Váli’s mind and re-fashioning him as Fenrir, could have jumpstarted Loki and Angrboda’s relationship. Whether we consider Jörmungand and Hel their children, is up for grabs. But for this scenario, they would have been the first blood children of the pair.

Meanwhile… Sigyn would have been left with belief both her children are dead, and the spouse she is loyal to, had strayed.

Now. Desmond is the one who gets to listen to this whole soap opera, and eventually be the sassy friend who would be pissed at Sigyn’s behalf. Because Sigyn still obviously cares for Loki and won’t look out for herself. This leaks over just enough for Desmond to nudge past-Loki into finding Yggdrasil in time to add himself to reincarnation loop. The rebirth scenario is therefore kicked into motion

But meddling into the timeline also allows Desmond/Sigyn to learn of what happened to Váli-who-is-Fenrir and… oh boy

Desmond is the one who finds and gets to Fenrir first. And when Basim’s around, I just have a beatific vision of Desmond introducing him as his kid “Isn’t that right, Loki?”

Let Basim suffer train? You got it. Let Basim/Loki realize that his lawful spouse is here, with all the cards in their deck alone, and that he has a LOT of groveling to do

To celebrate being almost done with Valhalla, I would like to offer this: events of Valhalla are a deviation from future Juno/Minerva/Tinia saw. Desmond, while burning, saw an opportunity and, wanting to live, reaches back and does some tweaks of his own. The whole Loki surviving thing? His doing. Basim is aware of who gave him a chance to do what he did. Future ark for Basim ends up in Desmond being resurrected

Additional ask from @fanworldbuildingfun:

(just a small clarification for previous ask: basically, Loki is indebted to Desmond for his survival; pays back by setting in motion Desmond's return. Potential way to do it? Remove the "new hook" of the reality (also known as 'main character'. Let the guy be selfish, he deserves it)

It is possible that Basim knew about Desmond (or, to be more exact, the Reader) since there was a way to reach the Reader using Yggdrassil (most probably because the Norns read the Calculations just like the Reader).

So, in this scenario, Desmond doesn’t have to tweak anything if you want to stay close to canon. We have no idea if Basim even knows where his children are at the moment, but the Reader, with the Calculations in hand, can give him all the information he needed, for example: the correct set of events that must happen for Basim to be reunited with his children.

And, considering Basim is a Sage who has completely assimilated with an Isu’s memories, Desmond wouldn’t trust him completely, especially after the whole Juno debacle. Even if Basim himself can be trusted as a fellow Hidden One/Assassin, Loki cannot.

Desmond would not risk it.

So they make a deal.

Desmond will ensure Basim’s revival and give him the exact events that must play out for him to be revived and reunited with Midgarsormen.

But his other two children?

Desmond will only share that information if Basim does as he asked.

In exchange for Hel’s location, Basim must ensure certain events play out as they should and it will end with Layla’s revival.

Then, in exchange for Fenrir’s location, Layla will give him all the information he needs to ensure another set of certain events will play out and it will end with Desmond’s revival.

Basim knows he’s being used but this is the best course of action he could take and maybe he is even a bit fond of Desmond’s audacity to actually do this kind of shit to him.

(Removing the ‘new hook’ could be one of those events as well and, of course, finally keeping the world safe from whatever Isu or sun-related world-ending event that the Reader was trying to find a way out of from the very beginning)

You know what would be funny?

Instead of the plot twist being Desmond and Layla were actually the ‘reincarnation’/’Sage’ of Fenrir and Hel, they’re the reincarnation of Narfi and Váli (the children Loki had with Sigyn who was supposed to be Loki's loyal wife but their relationship is tainted by modern media into a more abusive/toxic kind of relationship which sucks)

OR

Desmond and Layla could be the reincarnation/Sages of Sigyn and Váli themselves with this entire thing being Desmond’s way to avenge Loki’s actions even though his memories of Sigyn loves Loki too much that she forgives him and understands. Well, Desmond understands it alright but that doesn’t mean he’ll forgive Loki/Basim like his past Isu-self, especially since Loki’s relationship with Angrboda/Aletheia is the trigger that destroyed their family in the first place.

The main idea is that Desmond is making Basim/Loki work his ass off to reunite with his ‘preferred’ children as a way to punish Basim/Loki for focusing so much on his children with his mistress (which is what Aletheia is in AC canon) and forgetting about, you know, HIS OTHER CHILDREN (including Sleipnir)? And Basim doesn’t realize that Desmond is the reincarnation of Sigyn/Narfi because of he didn't think the reincarnation could be of a different gender (which is canon thanks to Eivor) and because he only knew Narfi as a child. Basim feels Layla is familiar but doesn’t know why and Váli died as a child as well.

(Additional info: the only thing we have on Isu Sigyn is that Aletheia/Angrboda tells Loki that if Sigyn learns about Fenrir, their other children will be in danger too which sets Sigyn up as a more malevolent character... which isn't really much of a stretch considering all Isus are dick but it's like that frustrating misrepresentation of Persephone and Hades' relationship in AC Odyssey all over again and aaaaaahhhhhhhh)

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you've always known there's a soulmate on the other end of your injuries. when you're working the victory pit during the harvest close festival, though, it's the furthest thing from your mind. ironically, it's the closest mollymauk has ever been to you.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: canon level violence, mentions of molly activating his swords, canon level allusions to war and corruption

title credit: the steve miller band

note: takes place during episodes 17/18, requested from the soulmate abc list: damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Throughout your childhood, you’ve been called blessed. It started with bruises and scuffs. Little things that are perfectly normal for a child to receive and not remember. The problem with your bruises and scuffs was that they were not your own. When you grew into your celestially gifted powers, it started to make more sense.

Your family had stories of soulmates bestowed upon their clerics, but it wasn’t something that had happened in many generations. Nobody was really concerned until the wounds you received from your soulmate began getting worse - deeper, taking longer to heal, more life-threatening. It worried you, and your family, but it pressed you to become a better cleric. To find your source of power and lean into it. You heal yourself each night before bed, hoping that you’re giving some sort of comfort to the person you’re connected to. Even if you have no energy spells, you pull a pearl you were gifted when you left your hometown and press your lips to it and let it fill you with the love and warmth of life and still heal yourself. It’s your nightly ritual and, since you’ve started doing it, you haven’t missed it once.

Except once, but really that doesn’t matter because of how you miss it. It’s the Harvest’s End festival and the Victory Pit, and you’ve been conscripted to work it. You hate working for the Crown, but it pays well and allows you to help people. Your clerical skills and magic get used every day and you help the people that really need help. Still, the inevitable war looming over the Empire worries you. You’re skilled for your age, more so than the other clerics who perhaps have years over you, and War Clerics don’t have the longest life expectancy. After the last time that your soulmate died, and the grief and pain it inflicted upon you, you don’t want to do that to them. You try not to think about the several times you’ve felt their death and resurrections, though, because it worries you.

Most of all, it tells you very important information about them. They’re some sort of adventurer, best case scenario. The worst case, though, is that they’re a criminal. Regardless, you’ve become fond of them. The cuts don’t really hurt as much anymore, but they still pucker and scar when you heal them at night. There have been a few times when you’ve gotten hurt and you know that they’ve received those wounds, so perhaps they know about you as well. You hope they do because it would be awfully lonely to be the only one out of a pair to be aware that there is, in fact, a pair.

Still, your soulmate is the furthest thing from your mind as you funnel people into the Victory Pit. Clerics double as security, mostly because the Guard want to watch the fights more than they want to keep people safe, and you grit your teeth trying to keep your prepared spells at the back of your mind. You have several healing spells in your mind, but a few offensive ones as well. In Victory Pits of the past, you’ve had to use them. Now, you’re just sore and aggravated with the hickey that appeared on your chest last night - that you did not receive yourself. It doesn’t bother you that whoever you’re linked to is getting lucky, but it would be nice if you didn’t have to look at the proof for the next week or so.

Someone stamps on your toe and you bite back your curse, skittering backward and colliding with someone who is cursing. “I’m sorry,” You apologize on instinct, turning and grabbing the person by the arms. You’re momentarily struck by how beautiful they are, but you’re at work. “Are you okay? I’m a cleric working in the Pit today.” They glance down at you, baubles and trinkets swinging from their gaudy horns, and you realize with a start that they're purple. It’s not that tieflings are rare in Zadash, but purple ones are. The group they’re with also has a blue tiefling, a small green halfling, and a half-orc. Truly a strange band of people.

“No, no,” The person you’d run into says, voice smoother than you’d anticipated, “I’m alright. Are you okay, darling?” They smile down at you, completely red eyes smiling with merriment as they settle their hands on your biceps in a mirror of how you’re holding them.

“Please, I ran into you,” You shake your head, “Besides, I’m working. It’s my job to make sure that you’re okay.” You give them your name, telling them to seek you out if they shall become injured.

“Oh,” They sweep you grandly underneath their arm, squishing you into the side and stepping toward their group for a few steps, “I will get painfully injured today, but I will seek you out specifically, darling. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and I am fighting with the Mighty Nein. You may call me Molly, all my friends do. I am a man of many friends, and you are one of them now. Keep your eyes on me today.” He winks and then sweeps himself away with a flourish, leaving you standing and a little flustered.

After that, the Victory Pit starts faster than you anticipate. You're stationed in the Pit itself, one of the more powerful offensive clerics on the roster today when you start to put the pieces together. You're not sure why you didn't notice at first, but Mollymauk - Molly - has a lot of scars. A lot of familiar scars. You trace a particularly deep scar on your collarbone as you watch the first Pit fight and wonder. What are the odds? Could Mollymauk really be…? A horrible thought hits you, and you can feel yourself pale. He's fighting in the Victory Pit today. He's going to get hurt, which will either confirm or deny whether or not he's your soulmate but if he is… Shit, you're in for a rough day. You know that The Mighty Nein is slated for the first fight against an Otyugh. They're nasty creatures, although not really native to Zadash you've still had to heal up some rather awful sucker wounds in your time.

You're glad to see that Mollymauk holds his own in the fight, and stays far away from the Otyugh. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him with the idea that he might be your soulmate and you get the sense that he's a melee fighter more so than a magical fighter in the beginning, but then he activates his swords, and the pain blossoms in your ribs as he drags his blades along his.

There's no question now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is your soulmate. Watching the way he fights and interacts with the Nein during their fight with the Otyugh everything about the injuries you've received from your connection with him makes so much more sense. You actually find yourself… Weirdly proud of your scars, then. You've heard about the Nein, how they're swords for hire and defeated the Fey Spider in the tunnels, but still. Mollymauk seems like good people. Maybe it's naïve to hope on your part because he's your soulmate, but you'll take it until you're proven different. You've been doing things like that for most of your life, and you'll be damned if you stop now. You know you can hold your own, too, so that helps. The next fighters pass in a haze to you, as you stand ready to save someone from death the Banderhobb fight passes with no need for clerics, and the fights with the Giant Crocodile and Ice Troll are much the same.

When the Mighty Nein is back up, your senses fire to life. The next monsters are Winter Wolves, nasty creatures with powerful ranged attacks. You steady yourself against the half-wall you're stationed behind, readying yourself for whatever pain Mollymauk is about to feel. The beginning of the fight is tense, and your fellow clerics watch you curiously as your hands grip tight and relax intermittently on the wall in front of you. When one wolf whirls and releases a nasty, icy breath you heave a sigh of relief that Mollymauk wasn't hit but then the other does the same thing. You feel it more than see Mollymauk get hit, sharp shards of pain washing over your skin so intensely that your eyes roll back in your head and the only thing that keeps you from collapsing is the fervent grip on the wall. Someone lays their hands on you and you feel a swell of magic before you shake them off. "I'm fine," You grit out, "Save your spells for the competitors." Even though you could use the healing, there's a reason clerics wait in the wings at the Pit. It's very possible that someone could be on death's door before the end of the day and if they die because you wasted a spell you'd never forgive yourself.

By the time you fight the darkness from the edges of your vision, Mollymauk is delivering the killing blow to the final Winter Wolf. You're not sure how he's still standing, let alone aware of his body enough to swing his swords like they weigh nothing. Your knees practically knock together as you gather your wits, wiping a hand down your sweaty face. The trials only get harder, and one hit almost took you down. You know you should heal yourself but you're not really sure if your nightly heals affect Mollymauk and, while you have no love for the Empire, it wouldn't be fair if your heals do help him. (And, again, there's the preemptive guilt of maybe not having enough energy for a lifesaving spell. You're just too selfish to use your pearl, too, so you have to make do and conserve your energy.)

The next group comes out and whispers flitter down the row of clerics to you: Owlbears are next. They're awful creatures, nasty when there's only one but two are damn near unmanageable. You happen to know these two aren't even mated, but that hardly matters. It's going to be a bloodbath at best, and at worst there'll be a death. Reaching over the wall, you unhook the latch that keeps it connected just in case you need to rush into the field. The beast-keepers are technically supposed to be the first on the scene, but you're also technically more powerful than they are. You rarely listen to the rules at the Victory Pit, mostly because you're a Crown Cleric and not from the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.

The fight is intense and the clerics next to you barely hold you back when several members of the team go down. They have clerics on their team, yes, but it's hard to tamp down your instincts when you were practically raised by your family for clericdom. It's only when you hear the whispering chatter that the beast-keepers are gathering the magical manacles that you jump into action, flinging open your door and sprinting into the field. The gasp from the crowd barely registers in your mind as you dodge an attack, skidding underneath and stopping next to what looks more like a bloody lump of cloth than a humanoid. The beast whirls on you, but you're faster. You've cast spiritual weapon before it can strike, the air in front of you and the injured party member shimmers and then, the first thing you thought of, a replica of one of Molly's scimitars but three times the size, appears and blocks the strike.

The Owlbear reels back again, going for another, but you're right there to block it. The beast-keepers are going to get an earful from you when you're done with the Pit, but for now, you're relieved that they've managed to subdue the beast and you can focus on the fallen. They're not in great shape, and with a precursory feel of their pulse, they're incredibly close to death.

You put your hands on either side of their neck, close your eyes, and pray. It's not necessarily a religious relationship with the deity that gives you the powers you have to heal, but it's still technically a prayer. The contestant heaves a deep breath, and you can feel the life rush into them from the fold between this plane and the next. The other clerics have gotten everyone else, so you focus on your patient. They probably need two or three more spells before they’re fully stabilized, which is going to burn through either your higher energy spells or all of your lower levels. You grit your teeth as you roll your patient onto the blade of your spiritual weapon, using it as a makeshift gurney. They’re already calling for the next team as if the clerics they’ve hired aren’t already spread thin trying to keep this team from dying. The Mighty Nein are at the doors, holding them open for the clerics, and you barely catch Molly’s eyes as you bring your patient off of the Pit floor and into the waiting room. The scimitar disappears as you lay them on a cot, quickly finding the worst wounds and sealing them with magic, burning through a lot of the spells you prepared and the arcane energy that it takes to cast.

The next beasts are angry and wily - displacer beasts - so you don’t really have time to think about how Molly is lingering near you, trying to find a time to talk to you while you’re trying to keep this person from dying. You stabilize them eventually, but the scarring will be intense. There’s nothing that you can do about that with what you’ve got now. Outside you can hear the next team win against the beasts and stress begins to bundle in your shoulders at the thought of how quickly the Pit is moving. Molly is hovering over your shoulder as you step back and begin clearing the blood off of your hands, despite his group being called out once more.

“That was my sword,” He rumbles, keeping his voice down and stepping even closer to you when you turn around. You track his tail thwipping through the air behind him, either very agitated or incredibly curious. Either could be incredibly accurate, and you don’t really have enough time to parse any information from the rest of his body language.

“Yes, it was,” You want to grumble, but it comes out softer than you intended, “Sorry, but you’re being called and I have to get back to my station so that you don’t die.” Molly tries to catch your arm when you slip around him, but with a promise and a smile you turn back to face him. “Don’t fucking die out there, and then we can talk, okay?” You wish that you could tell him, warn him really, that they’re about to face a Hill Giant. An incredible creature, really, but pushed to a near unreachable limit by the beast-keepers and their prodding, angry spears and arrows. It makes you sick to your stomach, but this is your job. The Empire pays your bills and keeps you fed - they would not tolerate any dissent from you on the matter of the Victory Pit and the treatment of the creatures captured specifically for death, no matter how strong of a case you can make. Instead of telling Molly what he’s up against, you casually brush the back of your fingers against his hand and let your magic make its way into his system. He should be okay, you think, the blessings of a cleric are strong.

Making your way back to your station, you fidget with your uniform. One of your friends - using the term loosely because you’re more like coworkers - catches your sleeve as you pass him. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes. “You’ve never given a contestant your blessings before, what’s so special about him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You pull away from Brock, “I just told him that if he wins, we can have a conversation. That’s all.” You shoot him a pointed look and then, after glancing around to make sure nobody else is looking, a wink. Brock grins and relaxes into his station, shaking his head. You’re known to push the limits, but outright break the rules? It’s almost unheard of for you. Everyone knows you’re blessed with a soulmate and Zadash is a bustling metropolis, frequented by the sort of people who get the injuries you sometimes show up to work with. They know you’ll need to stick around to find them, so you’ve only pushed the limits the Empire gives you, not outright shoot past them. By the time you’ve found your station again, the Hill Giant is almost out onto the Pit floor, and Brock has probably figured out why you’re so soft on one particular contestant.

The giant knocks out one of the pillars, roaring so deeply it vibrates in your chest. He’s pissed, rightfully so. The spines sticking out of his body make you sick to your stomach, and you have to look away. Your eyes find the halfling that was with Molly earlier, but as she sprints off toward the human woman, you realize that she’s a goblin. An interesting myriad of people traveling together, but you’ve seen strangers come through your town. She fires off two of her bolts, missing entirely, and you watch one arc through the air and strike off of the helmet of a Guard, who yelps.

You snicker as she takes off again, and the human man fires off his magic. It’s strange to see magic come from another person, especially magic that is clearly learned and not given. It almost makes you wish that your magic was learned instead of bestowed upon you but that would mean losing Molly, who you’re already rather fond of. You’re watching the man try to keep his cool and almost miss the other tiefling casting - a giant fucking lollipop appearing out of the air, smacking the giant, and then flames rocketing out of her hands to hit him, as well. You grin when you realize she’s a cleric, too. You wonder if she has a soulmate, but it would be improper to ask.

When the giant reels back and hurls a large chunk of wall, you suck in a breath. Everything is happening so fast, and Molly… Not only will it hurt to take the hits, but he’ll get hurt. It’s not just about you, but if he goes down so will you, and then you can’t help anyone. You’re almost relieved when the giant turns toward the half-orc, but then Molly is sprinting up toward the giant’s legs, his swords out. He’s a melee fighter, getting right into the thick of it and making your skin crawl. Molly’s swords carve through the giant like butter, making you cringe because the giant is pissed, and Molly won’t have time to get away from whatever is about to happen to him.

When the giant whips around, his eyes are fully black and bleeding down his face. You’re almost certain that’s Molly’s doing, but you don’t really have time to figure it out. The giants club swings up, and then down, and before Molly hits the ground your world has gone hazy with pain and darkness.

The pain and darkness keep their hold on you for what feels like forever. You know that eventually you’ll wake up, but floating in the darkness of unconsciousness you think of Molly. Did someone heal him? Is he okay? You’ve felt the other times he’s died, the way it rips you apart inside, the way you sleep for what feels like days before you wake up. Is this the same way? Has Molly died, even for a second, and you’re left to suffer the consequences? The stories your family told you all ended with soulmates together, no longer bearing the injuries of the other, because of the love that they share and the way they give and take equally. Nobody told you stories of soulmates where one dies over and over again - or at least comes close to doing so rather regularly. You’re still floating in the abyss when you hear his voice. Molly’s voice startles you because normally it’s the deity who blessed you with magic that comes to you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay.

But this time it’s Molly. He’s saying your name, asking you to wake up so that he can see your eyes again. Faintly, as you drift closer and closer to the surface, you can feel the light tracings of fingertips against the crest of your cheekbone and the faint wisp of breath against your hair. He keeps speaking, telling you things that you’re not sure you’ll remember when you finally float to the surface.

That happens faster than normal. When your eyes finally feel light enough to open, Molly is there. He looks a little worse for wear, but you can tell he has at least one healing spell in him. When he realizes you’re awake, a large grin splits his face. “There you are, darling,” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair to be even closer to you, “Scared me for a moment there.”

“Now that I’ve found you I highly doubt that you can get rid of me, Mollymauk.” Your voice is hoarse as you push yourself up, one of Molly’s hands curling around your shoulder to help you sit up on the cot. When you’re upright he moves from the chair he had set up next to your bed to sit next to you, his entire side pressed against yours. “You are a man who is constantly in danger.”

“That I am,” He leans against you, his horn pressing into the side of your head but you don’t mind. He’s warm and nice. The aches in your body numb a little bit just by being near him, but Molly seems like he has a bit of an ego so you don’t mention that. “Do you know why we feel each other this way?”

“Have you heard of soulmates, Molly?” You drop your voice to a whisper and turn your face to him, your lips pressed against his lavender forehead, “My family has legends of them, given to clerics to help them become the best healers they can be. Pushed to their limits by the other’s injuries, but also filled with an overwhelming need to be good enough. To have enough power. To protect, and love, and heal.” You kiss his forehead, hoping it’s not too bold, and let one of your last healing spells flow through his body. The last one you cast on yourself.

“It’s rotten work to love me, darling.” Molly finally says, one hand searching yours out, “But I do feel much better having met you. I feel connected, loved.”

“It’s not rotten work to love you, Molly. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I do not plan on stopping now.” You kiss his forehead again and his head turns, his own lips pressing against the side of your neck as he sighs, “Perhaps your work is not done in Zadash, but it should be soon.” You drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper so that only Molly can hear you, “War is coming, Mollymauk. You, The Mighty Nein… You should run before you’re conscripted to fight.”

“And you?” He asks, red eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, “What about you?”

“I… I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me.” You watch the shock flicker across his face for a brief moment, but then it settles into something that you can’t find a name for. “But if not, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be conscripted to be a War Cleric, not at first. They’ll take the clerics from the temples before they take me.”

Molly caresses the side of your face with his other hand, a small and hesitant smile playing on his face. “Darling, of course, I’ll have you. The Nein will, too. We’re meant to be together, after all.”

[pkmnomegaverse]

N or Ghetsis

Why not the father and the son!

N Headcanon A:  realistic - during the two years post BW where he’s traveling around to learn more about the truth of the world, he meets a lot of canon characters from the other regions.   I don’t even have particular headcanons about specific scenarios, I’ve just always liked the idea of him crossing paths with past protags and prominent trainers from the other games and learning little life lessons from the ones he meets. Traveling around with some of them for short bursts between towns.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious - the sex ed he received from the Sages (cause no way was Ghetsis going to explain any of that to him) very much stressed that since he was a future King, one day he would find a “prince/princess” who would be his perfect match, thus he needed to wait until he met this person before starting a physical relationship with anyone (or rather wait until the Sages/Ghetsis helped him find this person, in the far future). While he was told this in hopes of preventing him from falling for the first omega in heat he was exposed to once he was out on his own, it did have the effect of making N a bit of a romantic when it came to the idea of finding a partner.  It’s why he does somewhat latch onto the idea of Hilbert as this fated partner.  For all that they’re technically enemies, the duality of their roles stands out to him. While liberating Pokemon, of course, comes first, the idea still takes route in the back of his mind and it’s something he’s not wholly able to let go of even as the two spend years apart post BW.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends - that had N managed to defeat Hilbert during BW, there is no possible route that ends happy for him.  His fate is sealed since Ghetsis wins. Assuming Ghetsis doesn’t just kill him once he’s outlived his usefulness (which is the more likely route if N loses, but Ghetsis wins against Hilbert) his best route is to be the puppet king of Plasma who is allowed to marry Hilbert as his “reward” (something something about them being a clear choice for a “fated pair” given the duality of their roles as the heroes, also it looks good from a propaganda standpoint to have both heroes “working” for Team Plasma). Their children will then be used as pawns by Ghetsis for whatever role he sees fit and by the time N finally realizes just how bad the situation has gotten, his hands are tied and the best he can do is go along with what Ghetsis wants in an attempt to barter for Ghetsis going easier on his family/children.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own - (not unrealistic in my opinion, but) that Ghetsis is his biological father. I will die on this hill, word of god be damned. Ghetsis just threw baby N in some forest with wild Pokemon, monitored him half to make sure he didn’t die (although if he did, oh well), but also to see if he would develop the ability to speak to Pokemon.  Once it was clear he had, he retrieved him from the forest.  He even told N he was his father, thus why he should come along with him.

Ghetsis Headcanon A:  realistic - that he spent almost three decades working towards setting up his grand vision for what Team Plasma would be. While it was very much in the dream stage during his teens, he was still working to cultivate relationships and convince people to one day help him in the future. He also was doing research on what was the best possible way to take over a region, which involved him traveling around the world and looking into the legends of different regions (since using legendary Pokemon is a classic for gaining power).

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious (to me) - that he has multiple bastard children scattered across many regions.  Young Ghetsis was quite the charmer when he wanted to be and very much lived for his own pleasure, thus all the wild sex he was having in his youth (and even once he’s older.  He is the true leader of his cult, afterall. Also, why else would he have his personal bodyguards dress Like That).

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends - He actually did care about N’s mother, so much as someone like him can care for someone. Their relationship was substantial enough that people knew he was the father of her baby so when she passed away in childbirth, he was the clear choice for who would get custody of N.  Had she not passed away, while Ghetsis certainly would never have been a good father, there’s a chance things could have gone better for them.  Even if the likely route would have been villainous dad and morally ambiguous mom raising their son to be the future heir to dad’s weird up-and-coming cult.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own - He ends up becoming kinda sorta a mentor to his grandson, Braith. Picture a grumpy old man who’s done with everyone telling this hotshot kid ways to get his Deino to battle more effectively, mostly because said kid won’t leave him alone, but also because there’s a tiny part of him that is intrigued by Braith.  Maybe even feels a little proud that his useless son was able to produce a useful grandson for him.

[96dys]

hydrangea ; johnny seo

money makes the world turn. there was so much of it, and yet so few people ever saw it. maybe if it weren’t for the money, johnny might have acted differently. maybe his family’s badgering wouldn’t have weighed on him as much as it did. maybe he wouldn’t have taken you, because finding a wife this way wouldn’t have mattered. he didn’t like the circumstance, but he couldn’t keep himself from liking you—the dirt-poor girl who worried more about helping others than feeding herself.

ceo au

taglist: @aaaaalex05 

masterlist

01 | silver spoon

you were warm. the first thing you noticed upon willing your eyelids apart was that you were engulfed by a pleasant warmth, similar to that of which your mother's hugs used to provide. it was soft, so soft against your skin. you grabbed at it, willing the warmth closer. it was so unfamiliar, yet you welcomed it anyway. even if it was a mirage, you'd come to your senses with the pleasant memory of what could've been. it took a few seconds for your vision to become clear, but you were still unable to see anything. everything in your line of sight was a bright white shade. sitting up took twice as long. your body felt like it was packed full of rocks and each of your limbs radiated a dull ache, much like the light pounding in your head. when you were finally sat upright, your face scrunched up as confusion fully consumed you. you certainly hadn't died; whether you thought this was positive or negative had yet to be decided yet. regardless, you were surprised to find yourself in a large bedroom, dressed in a silk nightgown, and covered by the softest of blankets. you smelled so nice, like the pretty roses planted behind the church. this prompted you to slowly raise a hand from beneath the covers. you were shocked to see that it was clean, even down to your nail beds. the taste of mint lingered on your tongue. seeing all of this, you were no longer so sure that you hadn't passed. the room was nothing short of opulent, at least by the standard you had. the bed was big enough to easily fit three people, yet it didn't take up any more than half of the room. you were sat right in front of a closed door across the room, but you also noticed that the door to an en-suite bathroom had been left open a few feet away. there was a third door to your left, so many feet away. one of the mystery doors had to be a way out, but you weren't sure you had the energy to explore just yet. there was a window to your right, bordered by flowing pink curtains. they were the slightest bit transparent, offering a view of two birds nesting on top of a thick tree branch. turning to your left once more, you noticed that there was a vanity near the door, like the ones you read about in princess fairytales when you were younger. it was pink, like the curtains, and littered with more makeup products than you could count. while your body wanted nothing more than rest, you willed your legs over the side of the bed. as tired as you were, you'd taken notice of something worth moving for. just a few feet away, a silver box stuck out of the wall. there was a grated square covering most of its front, a little black button positioned right below it. if anyone asked you would deny it, but you were a kid at heart. you had to push the button; you just couldn't help yourself. you slowly walked over to the wall, keeping your left hand on the bed for support. it still felt as though your legs were filled to the brim with wet sand, though moving seemed to lessen the discomfort just a little. finally close enough to reach the box, you grabbed the fluffy white pillow and tossed aside in order to sit in its place at the head of the bed. a slow hand reached out until your index finger came into contact with the button. much to your dismay, nothing happened. "that was stupid," you muttered to yourself. truthfully, you were annoyed about having wasted so much effort on something that didn't even work. now you had no option but to sit there in silence, as you were certain you wouldn't wake up if you laid back down. inspecting the room a second time, you kicked your feet to keep them moving. you found that the more you moved, the less they hurt. you wracked your brain trying to remember what had happened before you arrived in this strange place, but it felt as though the memories had been washed away. the last thing you could recall was wishing the pastor a good night before you left the church at sundown. this was probably the biggest annoyance, as it only added more mystery to your situation. you thought that maybe if you were able to remember how you got there, you would have some kind of a clue as to why you were there. you knew that once the grogginess wore away you would feel so much more, but for now shock managed to soften every other emotion. the stunned state you were in made it nearly impossible to react the way you felt you should. part of you wanted to run toward whichever door your feet wanted to carry you to. part of you wanted to try to climb out the window. there was even a tiny part of you that contemplated drowning yourself in the toilet bowl. yet all you could do was sit there and kick your legs back and forth, attempting to catch each thought as it sped through your mind. it was the not knowing that caused your head to fill with so many ideas and scenarios. as much as you wanted to enjoy this new setting, you couldn't. you didn't choose to come here; you don't belong here. it was the kind of room you always dreamt of as a young girl, but it wasn't yours. it wasn't yours and you had no idea what was to happen while you were there. suddenly the door swung open. you froze, not knowing what to do as a man entered your room. he was tall—easily just as tall as your father had been, if not a few inches more. he wore a white button up shirt that highlighted his toned arms and a simple pair of  black slacks. jet black hair fell across his forehead, which hadn't been styled at all. as he came closer, your heart started to beat again. taking a closer look at his face, you realized that this was a boy, not a man. despite his figure, he couldn't have been more than fifteen. his plump lips even curled into that signature smile you'd seen so many young boys give before, the shy smile that only girls received. "sorry you had to wait so long, i was on the other side of the house working on something when i was told that you were awake," he said cheerily, like this was something he'd done before. although he refused to let his smile falter, you were around kids enough to know that he was panicking inside. you could see it in his eyes, in the way his fingers nervously pulled at the right side of his pants. you were given the impression that he was instructed to greet you, and that he wasn't especially fond of doing so. he closed the door behind himself and took a few more steps forward, stopping at the vanity. he visibly relaxed a lot more once the door was closed. it made sense then—he was afraid someone was listening in to make sure he was following instructions correctly. "i'm jisung and for the time being i'm kind of... don't ever call me your maid, but i'm kind of your maid," he said. he spoke very fast, so much so that he had to stop himself here and there to keep from tripping over his tongue. this time though it didn't appear to be a nervous habit. his tone was much more relaxed, which told you that he just naturally spoke faster than his brain could form sentences. "what's going on?" you asked calmly. part of your brain felt like a larger reaction was in order, but there wasn't a fiber of your being that knew what kind, only what for. regardless, you saw no sense in blowing up at a teenage boy, so instead you resigned to whatever state of calmness you were able to go to. he bit down on his lower lip, contemplating his response. "i don't really know enough to give you the answer i think you deserve since i'm not important enough to be kept in the loop beyond whatever gossip i hear, but i'll tell you what i can," he rambled. he then placed both hands on the vanity chair and spun it toward you. "come sit down first and then we'll talk. i'm supposed to be getting you ready." you raised an eyebrow skeptically, but stood nonetheless. as much as you wanted to object, you had the feeling that causing problems wouldn't go over well for you in a place like this. you would keep your guard up, but you didn't want to make any more waves than you absolutely had to. "ready for what?" having slowly made your way across the hardwood floor, you sat down in front of him. he then began pulling open drawers and rummaging through everything, clearly searching for a very specific item. "i'm getting there," he mindlessly responded, too preoccupied to give you his full attention. it wasn't until he pulled out a black hairbrush that he was ready to talk. he set it down on the vanity and spun you around to face the mirror. at an instant he was back to his mile-a-minute speaking. "i really hate saying it like this because it kind of icks me, but you were chosen for marriage. it's not super uncommon for people to the taken off the streets and brought here for some reason, but i think you're the first i've seen that has to become a wife. i don't really know why he decided to snatch someone off the streets when he could easily find someone that, you know, wants to marry him, but i guess it has something to do with whatever deadline was coming up." you said nothing, trying to wrap your head around what you'd been told. as he pulled the elastic from the end of your messy braid and began to unravel it, his words replayed in your mind once more. in a nutshell, you were being forced to throw away your previous life in order to start a new one with some stranger. it was laughable. of all the reasons you could've been abducted, this one was so... stupid. your head fell a bit. you sighed, wondering what it was about you that put you in such a position. of anyone he could've chosen, why did it have to be you? why were you the one that had to hallucinate all kinds of gods and monsters, only to end up in the last place you wanted to be? as much as your life sucked sometimes, you would've much rather been back home boiling water to drink than sitting in that chair. at least at home you were familiar with the dangers you had to face. "i know you're probably not in the mood to make friends," he began, running the brush through your hair. you didn't respond, only looked ahead at your reflection. for the first time in years, you looked well rested. how could that be? after everything you had gone through, how was it that you looked so... at peace? "but we're the same," he continued. it sounded like he was talking more to himself than to you, like it was just some mindless rambling. "i'm like you. i didn't choose to come here, and i'm probably never going to leave. i've been here for years." that got your attention. you lifted your head in surprise, causing him to gently reposition it. you didn't know if you were meant to feel sorrow or ease at the fact that you weren't the first person to come here this way. "my parents died when i was six. i was too young to really know what happened—no one would tell me—but everyone has their theories, you know? about death, anyway. to this day i'm still not sure, but i think it was the water. when my parents got sick, they were so weak. they would send me to the next town over with what little bit of money they had stashed away to buy bottles of clean water. they wouldn't drink any of it, but they insisted i did," he babbled. his hands felt nice in your hair now, delicately weaving your hair into a neat braid down your back. you could see him in the mirror, looking down at you. you weren't sure what emotion was displayed upon his face. as he tied an elastic around the end of the braid, he resumed, "they were gone within a week. i was all alone. you know how it is; people die and no one cares. no one came looking for me, but i was found a couple of days later. he doesn't work here directly, but there's a man that works in collections that's associated with the corporation. i think he was there to clear my home of everything my family had left behind, and he saw me there, too. i don't know if he wanted to or if it was part of the job, but i was taken here. no need for drugs; i was too young to know any better, so i believed him when he said he was bringing me to a safe place. i've never left the premises. they just trained me to look after people like you. do your hair, makeup, laundry—things like that. i don't like to call myself a maid, but... anyway, you're my first." he spun you around then, forcing you to face him. you had already taken notice of his height, but you could really see how tall he was now, towering over you. maybe you were shocked because you spent all of your time around children, or maybe it was because you'd never seen a young teenager nearing six feet before. not where you're from, anyway; all growth seemed stunted by the lack of nutrients children typically got from whatever they were forced to call a meal. as he used slender fingers to gently pull pieces of hair from the braid, you bit your lip. then, you spoke for the very first time since he began your makeover. "why? what do they get from a scared six year old?" the left corner of his mouth rose, like he was pondering over what to say. you noticed that he always tried to be very careful about the way he spoke to you. he crouched down so that his face was level with yours. at first, you thought it was so that he could talk with you directly, but then you watched him grab some things from the vanity. you weren't very familiar with makeup, but he now held in his hand what you thought to be eyeshadow and a brush to apply it with. you were right. as he opened the little plastic rectangle and dipped the brush inside one of the colors, you let your eyelids flutter closed and he finally began to speak. "seotech is one of the largest companies in the world. any piece of technology you've ever used probably came from one of their factories. even poor people need technology, right? i didn't have more than two shirts and one pair of pants, but my family had a little flip phone in case of emergencies. they make too much money and they know it," he mumbled. his brows were furrowed either in anger or concentration; you couldn't be sure which of the two it was. "and they know that people like you and me are so easy, you know? we're so low on the food chain, we get pulled off the streets and there's no one there to miss us. the people that do don't really care, anyway. they know how we live. they get free labor wherever they need it and we get the things we never had back home—three meals a day, a shower that works, a real bed to sleep on... they know us. they know we'll take whatever we can get, and they get to keep lining their pockets." you felt a quiet unease whispering in your stomach. it was the same frustration you were overcome with when your family fell ill. money; it was always about money. you were losing your life for something you never had any of. you might not have had many things to your name back home, but it was your life and you didn't understand why you should have to it up in order to help some stranger make money when he likely has more than he'll ever spend in his lifetime. where was his money when you needed it? where was he the summer you had nothing to eat but whatever food scraps you could find in the community garbage pile. where was his precious money then? and although you were so angry that it always boiled down to something financial, you knew jisung was right and you hated it. you hated that there was a part of you that was so thankful you woke up in a large bed, enveloped in the softest blankets you'd ever felt in your life. you hated that the idea of eating more than once a day—and real food at that—excited you. you were so angry at the man that forced you to come here, but you couldn't hate him and that only hurt your head even more. no matter what he did to get you there, nothing could change the fact that your quality of life drastically improved the moment you walked through the front door. you might even live to see thirty now; as much as you wanted to, you couldn't hate him for that. jisung took your lack of response as a sign to keep talking. "i've met johnny once or twice. he's really busy with work and stuff, so he isn't around often, but he's a pretty nice guy. you don't have to like him, but i think you might at some point in time. because of my situation, i didn't like his father, but..." it was at that point that you began to tune out the young boy's mindless rambling. the only thing you found useful was his comment about someone named johnny; context told you that this is the man that brought you here. beyond that, you didn't care much about what jisung was saying. it was as though he couldn't stand the silence, like he had to fill every little second with sound. that was likely why he continued to speak about everything and nothing until he was finished with your makeup. finally he placed his tools back atop the vanity and straightened himself out. you watched him stretch his back for a moment before spinning you back around. you weren't sure how to feel about the girl staring back at you in the mirror. she was you, and yet she wasn't at the same time. you'd never seen yourself in a healthy state, but you imagined you would look like this. the dark circles under your eyes had been concealed, your eyelids were brushed with a very natural looking tan shade, and even your lips were made to look a little pinker, a little livelier. the long pieces of hair framing your face only served to pull the look together. the voice in the back of your head knew that it was just an attempt to better cover your hollow cheeks, but you chose to ignore this fact. "all done!" he exclaimed quietly, visibly proud of his work. he stared at you expectantly, and so you smiled. you weren't especially in the mood to talk, but you had to admit that he did do a very good job of making you appear more put together. seeing your nonverbal response only made him smile as well. you were thankful he got the message. while you weren't very happy to be there, you didn't want to take your negativity out on him. your eyes followed him around the room. he stopped at the door across from your bed for just a moment before turning the knob and walking inside. from what you could see, it was a closet full of beautiful clothing. and you were proven to be correct, as he quickly returned with a few items in hand. he laid everything out on the bed and turned to you. "uh... obviously i'm not going to dress you. that would be really weird, plus i'm sure you can do it yourself anyway. if you have any problems though, just press that button and say you're having a lady problem. they'll send a girl to help you," the boy babbled. you saw that he was pointing to the box again, the one that made the static sound. now you understood that it was some kind of communication device, like a radio or a phone. as you nodded, he continued. "i'm gonna step out for a few minutes to call johnny and let him know you're almost ready. as soon as you're ready i can take you to him." he started to walk toward your bedroom door, but you called after him. when he made eye contact, you felt the need to look down. "do you know what's going to happen with me and johnny?" calling the man by name felt very weird. the man you had envisioned was burley and intimidating, but hearing his name shattered that image entirely. johnny sounded very... familiar, sort of like a noisy little boy in your study group. it wasn't the name someone scary looking would have, and if it was, you felt that he would probably go by something else. jisung nodded. "there's a wedding at the end of the week. i heard through the grapevine that it was supposed to be sooner, but he chose you without telling everyone or something stupid like that, so now we all have to run around like chickens with our heads chopped off trying to put everything together last minute. all i know for sure is that i have to find you a dress as soon as possible." then, he shrugged and walked out, like he knew you weren't going to respond. you only sighed. there was a full ache in your stomach. the idea of getting married really didn't sit right with you, not because you were opposed to the idea of being with someone forever, but because you haven't even seen your forever person yet. but you knew that there was no sense wasting even more time over feelings that weren't going anyway anytime soon, so you slowly rose to your feet. walking felt much better now; you were able to make it to the bed without any issues. truthfully, you were blown away by the clothing laying in front of you. just putting everything on felt wrong, even the cotton panties. you made your way over to the mirror, hoping you would have enough time to gawk at yourself before jisung comes back. to say that you were stunned would be an understatement. the pale yellow dress hugged your abdomen perfectly, the flowing skirt falling just above your knee. the puffed up sleeves were long enough to be noticeable, though not so big as to look childish. the black flats on your feet contrasted the outfit greatly, but you remembered hearing somewhere that black goes with everything. no matter how many times and whatever which way you turned, you couldn't see yourself standing in the mirror. it wasn't right; it wasn't normal. seeing yourself in something so nice—something so expensive—felt very weird. you hadn't once in your life owned an outfit that hadn't been worn numerous times by the previous owner, let alone something so pretty. you looked... like you belong here. you made a mental note to ask jisung how he knew what your sizes were. given that you're extremely underweight and shoe sizes are impossible to guess, you were astonished at how nicely everything fit around your body. standing in front of the door now, you briefly hesitated before slowly pulling it open. you poked your head out into the hallway, hoping to see jisung. he stood a few feet away with his back against the wall, waiting for you to finish up. he immediately perked up once he saw you, waving you over. you pulled the door closed behind yourself and quietly obliged his unspoken request. you trailed behind him a bit as he walked you through the huge house, mostly in an attempt to avoid anymore stories. you found that he spoke a lot less when he was unable to see you face to face. instead, he only gave directions where he saw fit. we're gonna go down these stairs. there's a really weird turn here. watch your step, that stair has a really bad crack in it. being in a place so large made your head spin. no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't count how many rooms you'd been led past. you had yet to see a wall that lacked some kind of extravagant art piece. each one was different from the last, but still there all the same. you even saw numerous people, all of which were dressed just like jisung. some smiled and waved at the boy, others gave some other kind of cheerful greeting. when you reached what he claimed to be the final door, you felt like your legs were going to fall right off of your body. it wasn't often that you went out of your way to walk for such a long time, since your body always seemed to object. in that moment, it felt like this was the worst it had ever been. you weren't winded, but the pain in your legs alone was enough to make you want to quit. now you were very close to objecting. the boy guides you through the doorway and you instantly came to the realization that there was so much more walking to be done. ahead of you was the most beautiful garden, delicate hydrangeas leading up to large hedges that formed what looked like a maze. your assumption was proven to be correct; as you followed him down the stone path and into the entrance, you were immediately met with many twists and turns. however, the sights seemed to distract you from the ache in your calves. the path you took was very boring, but each opening you passed gave you a look at something new and exciting. they all opened up to a large room of sorts, all full of dark green grass and an array of flowers. some even had tall fruit trees growing, which you'd never seen in person before. though you knew it took far longer to reach your destination, it felt like only a few minutes had past. and as soon as you arrived, jisung scurried off. you didn't really blame him. standing there now, all alone with a man that could've only been johnny, you wished it had taken even longer. the area you were in now was very large. there was a bench a little ways away, but everything else was open space. there were so many different flowers, a number of trees, and even a little pond in the corner. you had to admit it was nice. this part of the garden was just as beautiful as any other, and you assumed it would be very peaceful if you were visiting alone. but you weren't. the last thing you wanted was to walk toward the man, but you knew there wasn't another option. you could feel his eyes locked on something in your direction as you slowly worked your way toward the bench he sat upon. in truth, you were hoping it wasn't you. you kept your gaze on the green grass beneath your feet, not yet ready to fully take in his appearance. you wanted to know what he looked like, but you also didn't want to give him any attention. you reached the bench, making sure to keep a few inches between your bodies as you sat down on his right. very very reluctantly, you turned to look at him. he was dressed nicely—almost a little too nicely. he wore a grey suit with a burgundy button up beneath his jacket. the look was finished off with shiny black shoes, the kind that made you wonder how they were worn without acquiring a single scuff. he looked like someone who had just come home from work, which very well may have been true. though he was sitting down, you could tell by looking at his long legs that he was very tall. looking at his face only confirmed it, given that you had to look up a little in order to get a good look. dark brown hair fell messily across his forehead, though it looked like it had previously been styled away from his face entirely. his pink lips settled into a slight frown, though he didn't seem entirely unhappy. more lost on thought, if anything. dark brown eyes stared off at something behind you for a minute before he shifted his body. now that he was facing forward, you felt comfortable enough to do the same. "i heard from jisung that you haven't been very talkative," he began, skipping introductions that clearly weren't needed. he couldn't bring himself to look at you, not yet. though he was very excited to be in your presence, he wasn't very proud of the way he had been required to get you there. "that's understandable. you don't have to talk, but i want to. you can just listen; that'll be enough." from his peripheral vision, he could barely make out the nod you gave. it was so small, so fleeting, he thought it might've been hard to catch if he were looking at you dead on. while it wasn't much, it was a response nonetheless. given what his family had done to you, he liked seeing you responsive in any capacity. he wanted you to be comfortable in his home, even if you weren't comfortable with him. "i know it probably doesn't mean much, but i really am sorry. i only got to decide which woman i would marry, i wasn't really given any options regarding how i would become engaged." he turned his head to look at you, hoping you would notice the sincerity in his eyes, but you refused to look at him. he sighed to himself and continued, "my father passed recently, a couple of months ago. he had cancer, not that it's very relevant... anyway, i had been putting it off for as long as possible—finding a woman to marry—but other relatives had begun to write constantly. dozens of letters and even a handful of phone calls. people were talking, and they weren't saying anything positive. when i took over my fathers business—the family business—i was expected to marry immediately. it was what my father had done, as well as my grandfather, and even all of my uncles, though they're not as important when it comes to both money and business alike. it was tradition to marry the moment you cross over into adulthood. it's different for everyone, but it's always the first defining moment in a mans life. for me, it was inheriting the company. and funnily enough, my family doesn't see that the wealthy are fit to marry. isn't that odd, the rich refusing to marry amongst themselves? my uncle always said that it's because there are so few of us now, you can never really know who might be distantly related; no one wanted to risk it i guess. so instead they opted for the poor, and they would take whoever they liked most. i don't like and i didn't want to, i can promise you that, but i was told that if i didn't do it myself, they would take numerous girls in order to make me pick." you bit down on your lower lip. admittedly, it was funny in the most ironic way. the divide between the upper and lower class had grown so great that people like johnny seemed like a myth—never seen or heard, but always talked about. the poor were so looked down upon that the rich refused to associate beyond recruiting workers for their respective businesses. even then, they sent other workers to do the job for them. you found it humorous that people like you were never good enough to keep well fed, to keep warm during the winter, or even to talk to, but your women are the only ones they see fit to marry. then, you looked at him. "out of everyone, why me?" johnny looked away for a moment before meeting your eye. he searched for any sign of sadness, contentment, happiness—any emotion at all—but he saw none. your eyes were so beautiful, yet so empty. he wanted to blame it on your character, though he knew in his heart that wasn't the case. he knew it was a result of what he had done, and it made his heart drop a little in his chest. he let out another sigh when you turned once more, opting to look at the trees in front of you instead. "i was on my way to a lunch party when i was driven through your town four days ago now. i'd never been taken that way before, probably because i'd never met with these associates face to face. anyway, i noticed you... outside of the church. you had a tattered cloth in your hand and i guess some kind of a wash bucket on the ground beside you. i don't know really; i was only able to look for a few seconds. but i saw you, and i saw the children. you were washing the dirt from their faces before they went inside, almost like you were bathing them." he smiled softly to himself, looking straight ahead. the trees danced gently in the wind, the sight easing his mind. there was a certain fondness in his voice when he spoke, like he was recounting some story of an old friend. he didn't know you, but in those few moments, it had felt like he did. he saw something in you, though he wasn't entirely sure what that was. even now, he isn't sure why he feels so comfortable in your presence. "you don't see that often anymore," he added softly. "after the war, things changed so much. you don't typically see people helping one another anymore, not that i don't understand why. people are so focused on keeping food on the table and a roof over their head that no one has any free time to volunteer. but you did. you didn't have to help those children, but you chose to. i don't know... there was just something about that." he was right. you didn't have to be at the church, and even though you were never paid with money, it was something you loved to do. the few families that owned books would allow you to borrow whichever ones you had yet to read in exchange for dedicating your time to their children, but you would do it even if there wasn't a single thing you got out of it. you loved to read and you hated that there weren't enough people with the knowledge to do so themselves. there were a large number of adults that were schooled to the fullest extent, but after the war education just wasn't a priority. so you made it your priority. you didn't know anything about science and you could only do the smallest bit of math that didn't deal with money, but you could read. your younger brother was exceptionally smart for someone his age. all children learned the alphabet one way or another, but from that he taught himself to read using your parents old books and magazines. by the age of seven he was able to read full sentences; by nine he could read books. and despite being two years younger, he taught you too. at first you thought he was messing with you. some of the things he was saying just didn't make sense. why do we have the letter k if it makes the same sound as c? shouldn't that make it redundant? you would always ask a similar string of questions each learning session, but he would just laugh and tell you to trust him. sometimes it was hard to believe your dorky younger brother wasn't just pulling your leg for his own amusement. you didn't get it at the time, but it would all make sense when you began to read sentences and noticed everything matching up with things you saw everyday in real life. even so, letter combinations were nearly your breaking point. at the age of eleven, you were on the verge of tears as he tried to explain why 'th' makes the sound it does. it didn't make sense to you and that made you feel so stupid. then, he said something that stuck with you. "hey, you're just not looking at it the right way," he'd said, his beaming smile shining up at you. he picked the book up off of the floor and leaned against the wall, propping it up on his knees. he pointed to the word 'church'—more specifically the first two letters. "i'll use a different example: 'ch'. think of c and h like brother and sister, like you and me. when they're not together, they make their own sounds, right? like how i forage for cool plants and you draw pictures. that's us when we're not together, but when we hang out, we read. it's something new we do. like the 'ch' sound. c and h are hanging out, so they've gotta do something together. they make a new sound. it's like that for t and h too." that was the first time everything began to fall into place. it was an analogy you still used to help young children learn to read simple words, partly because it was so easy to understand and partly because it felt like you were honoring your brother. he wasn't around to do any more teaching himself, but you knew he was smiling down on you. he spent so much time with his head in a book, you could feel in your heart that he would be proud of your actions. you couldn't fight the bright smile that made its way to your face. he always did that to you. you've had so much time to grieve him after his passing at just thirteen years old, all you feel is peace when he comes to mind. he did so much good in the world and he enabled you to do the same. even in death he was a beckon of light in such a dark world. it made your heart swell. "i like to read," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "i teach them how to read." johnny turned his head slowly to look at you, but his eyes were much faster. he didn't want to startle you, but he was so eager to take a look at you. it was the first time he heard your voice; his face completely lit up at the sound. he wasn't sure you were going to speak again, so he wanted to cherish this moment. "i read a lot when i'm not working," he cheerfully admitted. "my library is huge; we probably have any book you could ever want to read. if we don't, i can make sure it gets to you. we can meet there tomorrow and i'll show it to you." "tomorrow?" you asked skeptically. "tomorrow," he confirmed. "i'm never going to make you do anything you don't want to when we see each other—you just say the word and we'll do something else—but we're going to see each other. i get caught up at work pretty often, but i'll make at least an hour for you everyday." you thought about responding, but you didn't get the chance. instead, your stomach emitted a noisy grumble. your facial features contorted in an odd mix of embarrassment and disgust; you were really hoping he hadn't heard that. given your luck though, of course he had. he quickly turned to look at you. you couldn't decipher the look on his face. there was a distinct annoyance in his eyes despite the panicked look on his face, which was what threw you off. "have you eaten yet?" you shook your head. truthfully, you were starving. maybe the reason you hadn't noticed was because you had so many more important things on your mind, or maybe it was because you were so used to feeling hungry that you only ever truly felt it when your body couldn't handle any more. he cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. his eyes briefly snapped shut, and for the most fleeting moment, he looked like he had been caught committing a crime; like he knew he messed up. then it made a little more sense. you were getting the impression that he was annoyed with himself over the matter. and he was. "i told them to make sure you ate," he muttered to himself. then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangle the size of his large hand. you most imagined it was a cellphone, though it didn't look like any you'd seen in person. if you ever made up the money, the only phone available would be a tiny flip phone, like the one jisung mentioned earlier. curious about the device, you couldn't keep yourself from leaning in a little. you wanted to see how it worked, if nothing else. staring at the screen almost made your head hurt, it was so bright. there was so much to take note of, too. from the bright colors to the funny icons on his keyboard, you weren't sure where to begin. the time at the top told you that it was just a little past noon. you made sure to keep that in mind, as you weren't sure where you would be able to locate a clock when you go back inside. then you saw that he was typing a message. he was quick to hit send and put his phone away, but you had seen enough to understand what he'd said. he was asking a person named yuta to bring breakfast foods out to a table in garden. "interested?" he asked, the corners of his lips pulling upward in the tiniest smirk. "sorry," you mumbled. just as quickly as he had hit send, you turned away. "don't be," he laughed lightly. "it is pretty cool. well... i think so anyway. sometimes my friends make fun of me because i could easily afford to design a newer model just for myself and this one is a little outdated, but i like it. we don't make phones in red anymore for whatever reason and i'm too lazy to issue a new set of requirements." you bit down on your lip in order to keep from saying something mean. it would be a little much to say that he ruined the moment, but you felt that was exactly what he did. his phone was cool until he started polluting the conversation with his problems. you were certain that even he had real issues that deserve to be addressed, though this wasn't one of them. it would be so nice to have so much money that your main concern is deciding which fancy new phone you wanted to purchase. so you simply asked what it does. "it does everything, honestly. kind of like a computer, in a way. you can talk to people, text people, and search for things on the internet. it takes pictures, records sound, and um... oh! you can play games too." honestly, johnny was excited to answer your question, even if he didn't know where to begin. he stumbled over his words a bit, trying to put together a response that was straight to the point. he wasn't sure how much you knew about technology given your upbringing, so he didn't want to overwhelm or confuse you. his business phone was so much more advanced, he'd be hesitant to even show it to you. "is that what you do?" you questioned, looking at his blurry figure through your peripheral vision. "you make phones?" "all kinds of tech," he answered. "phones and computers are really popular these days, but my company makes everything that sells. even had a guy special order a touch screen fridge once. it was weird, but he paid double just so i could find someone who'd be able to figure it out. we're the only company that produces technology though, so it wasn't like he had anywhere else to look. you know how it is." "no, i don't." you understood how the market worked, but not in the way he was implying. it was no secret that monopolies were still in play; if something was for sale, you could only get it from one set company and no one else. however, it wasn't like there was ever a point in your life where you were ever able to make such a purchase. you were unable to put yourself in that mans shoes, unable to understand what it would be like to have to search for someone to entertain such a stupid request, let alone be able to pay double for it. he didn't speak after that. it was the right choice to make, he decided, because he was beginning to realize how different your worlds were. he had forgotten that you weren't raised the way he was, which meant it probably sounded like he was speaking another language entirely. he could only hope that language wasn't arrogance. after a few quiet minutes trying to spot the squirrels as they darted up the tall trees, you heard something in off in the distance. it was a shrill clanking sound, the kind your battered water pot always made when you put the lid back on. having given your left a good look without finding anything, you turned to your right. a man was turning the corner, pushing a cart topped with various plates and bowls through the stone pathway. this had to be yuta. he was pretty, you thought. his chestnut hair was quite long compared to johnny's. it was nowhere near as long as yours, but from what you could tell, he'd pulled the majority of it into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. an attempt had been made to push the remainder past his ears, and still his overgrown bangs slipped out and softened the edges of his face. "there's your food," johnny informed you. he rose to his feet and extended his hand, only to watch as you stood without even acknowledging the gesture. a breathe of air escaped his parted lips. seeing as you didn't care to talk anymore, he made his way through the garden. he looked over his shoulder every now and again to make sure he hadn't lost you. while the table wasn't very far away, reaching it required taking a couple of odd turns. when you did though, you took a moment to take in your new surroundings. aside from the small entrance, this area was surrounded by large hedges on all sides. it wasn't very big either—just big enough to comfortably house a white square table that stood out amongst all of the greenery. the stone pathway he lead you down stopped at the table, which sat atop a large plot of smooth, shiny stone in the middle of the grass. there was a chair for every side of the table, so you sat down in the one closest to you. johnny sat down on your right. as he did so, the clanking got louder and louder, until the cart came to a slow stop behind you. you understood why yuta didn't want to move the cart off of the stone path, yet it felt very weird for him to set the table from such a distance. actually, it felt weird to have someone set the table for you at all. it made it impossible for you to look up from your lap. you didn't want to risk having to look at him at all. even so, you listened as he made numerous trips, only raising your gaze when you heard him push the noisy cart in the other direction. when you did, your eyes widened until they were as big as the plate in front of you. at least a dozen little plates and bowls full cluttered the table, as well as an empty glass and the pitcher of water that accompanied it. you'd never seen so much food and you were positive you'd never seen many of the things he'd brought. there were some you remembered seeing at least a couple of times back home, like scrambled eggs and little rolls of bread, and there were some you were sure you'd read about, like what you deduced were sliced strawberries. everything else remained a mystery for the time being. "i've arranged for you to have three meals brought to your room at a set time everyday, but if you get hungry in between or want something different, just press the button on the wall and ask," johnny informed you. using long arms, he reached across the table to grab the water pitcher. he poured you a glass and mumbled to himself, his voice so sad. "hopefully you gain some weight." you found yourself lost in thought as he continued to place various food items on your plate. though it was something you always tried your hardest not to think about, he was right. if you had to guess, you would say you were maybe ten pounds away from being able to see your ribs. it was a sad fact, but it was the normalcy when you grew up. in your nineteen years, you'd only seen a few people that looked completely healthy; johnny and jisung made up half of that list. as he finished up, you chose to further the conversation—not because you truly wanted to, but as a way to thank him for what he was doing. you were certain he wasn't worthy of a true apology, though he didn't have to feed you, let alone serve you himself. "the radio?" you questioned, reaching for your water. you took a sip, listening to his laughter. brows furrowed, you set down the glass and looked at him. his shiny white teeth were on full display, brown eyes nearly forced shut by his amusement. "i can get you a radio if you want," he responded after a few moments, gradually becoming more calm with each word. "what we have in your room is called an intercom. it allows you to talk back and forth with staff members if there's ever anything you need. it's older technology, but we still manufacture them because they've proven to be useful—even now." he felt bad for laughing so loudly, but he hadn't been able to help himself. it wasn't that he was amused by your lack of knowledge, it was that he wasn't prepared for such a large cultural gap between the two of you. even now, watching you grip your fork wrong, he thought about how different your life must've been. after a minute, he couldn't stand to let you struggle any longer. with a gentle touch, he pulled the utensil from your grasp, only to reposition and return it to you. he used his own fingers to push up against your own until they curled around the silver once more. then, he pulled away. embarrassment blossomed across your face. there was only one utensil in your home, which was a large wooden spoon, but now you realized you'd been holding it incorrectly this entire time. it was something you stumbled upon in the garbage not too long ago; couple with the fact that you hardly ever had anything to cook, you never had much reason to learn to do so properly. still, this didn't make the current situation any less humiliating. johnny wasn't someone you were worried about impressing and still you felt like crawling into a hole and hiding away for a long time. you didn't want to look stupid, even in front of someone you found so irrelevant. because you weren't stupid. despite whatever he might be thinking, you knew things. they were very different from the things he knew, but very valid nonetheless. you had no clue how technology worked beyond what little bit you'd read in those ancient books, but he wouldn't last more than three days in your neighborhood. your knowledge was just as valid as his, yet it didn't make you feel any better about yourself. looking down at your plate, you briefly wondered what had been placed on it. the thought faded out fairly quickly though, interrupted by the ache in your stomach. very slowly, you allowed yourself to scoop some of the eggs onto your fork. the irony in eating so many new things was that you weren't able to taste any of them. though you paced yourself well, you were so focused on the increasing feeling of fullness that everything else faded to grey. you paid no attention to the man on your right, even as he locked his eyes on you. the both of you settled into a comfortable silence. you'd always imagined yourself eating mountains of food if you were ever given the chance, so you were surprised when you came to the realization that you weren't able to finish more than just half of what he'd given you. a sigh escaped your lips. you looked over at him, almost apologetically. you weren't sure if you were upset that you couldn't eat more, or if the issue was that you didn't want to disrespect the man that went out of his way to feed you. "sorry." he smiled softly. "i'm just happy you ate something." he then grabbed the tiny white cup to his left. there was a dull clanking sound that rang in your ear as he set it down in front of you. curious, you looked down to see that it was filled with a multitude of pills, both small and large. there had to be at least ten of them, maybe twenty. each was a vibrant color; there were only two little white tablets sitting amongst the rest. you only shook your head. even if he had only placed one little pill in front of you, your instincts would've caused you to feel the same way. you didn't want to be drugged again; you wouldn't let him. you.would rather have him force them down your throat one by one than willingly let him put you to sleep again. looking up, you glanced in his direction before pushing the cup away from yourself. "they're just vitamins," he calmly tried to reassure you. he picked it up again, only to set it back down in front of you. there was a bit of hesitancy present as he gradually pulled his hand away. he so desperately wanted to reach for yours, but he didn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already appeared. he softened his tone even more and added, "i don't want to make you feel bad about the way that you look—i think you're so beautiful—but you're not healthy. i spoke with my doctor the night you got here; i told him about the shape you're in and he recommended that you take these everyday. you need to." he was very convincing, but you knew better. you reached into the cup and pulled out one of the white tablets, using two fingers to hold it in front of his face. "you take this one, i'll take the rest," you firmly stated. then, you reached under the table to grab his left arm. he made no attempt to stop you as you turned it over and planted the pill on his open palm. leaning back in your seat, you waited for some kind of a response. johnny only sighed. he understood why you were as skeptical as you were, though he wasn't fond of it. there was no one to blame but himself—and he was well aware of this—though that wasn't enough to keep him from wishing you would trust him a little more. but he wasn't going to push you, and he wasn't going to give you any reason to suspect he could've been lying. without a word, he placed it into his mouth and quickly took a large sip of water from your glass. he proceeded to open his mouth and wiggle his tongue around so you could see that he hadn't managed to trick you somehow. "thank you." although there were so many vitamins for you to take, it didn't take long before they were all gone. sharing a cup with him wasn't something that would cause you to worry, but you wondered why he felt the same way. drinking after someone with pearly white teeth and smelled so nice was nothing compared to some of the people you've shared a glass with back home, but you didn't think he would be able to say the same about someone like you. despite the upcoming wedding, it was still a surprise that he didn't find you as disgusting as you felt sometimes. a loud beeping sound broke through the silence. again, as he checked his fancy watch, you couldn't help but lean over to try to have a look. it wasn't a phone, though it looked like it did a lot of the same things as the one you'd seen earlier. it had the same touch screen, as well as the same bright colors. there was a message on the screen. it was far away to read, but you were able to make out another one of those weird picture icons alongside the text. he swore loudly. you snapped your head up, hoping he wasn't angry that you were snooping a second time. he ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes shut tight. when he opened them again, he let out a heavy sigh. before you knew it, he was on his feet looking down at you. "we have to go. i promise i really wanted to spend more time with you, but i guess my second is unable to supervise without something going wrong," he spoke through gritted teeth. like before, he extended his hand toward you. given how irritated he seemed already, you didn't decline this time. you silently placed your hand in his and him to help you up. having noticed that you continued to look at the mess you left behind, he grumbled, "don't worry about it. i'll send someone to clean everything up when i get the chance." one thing you realized was that the less you spoke, the more others felt compelled to. johnny spent the fifteen minute walk back to the house venting about the issue at his lab. apparently his second in command, ten, had texted to let him know that one of the new cameras combusted during the testing phase and injured one of their engineers. not only that, but he was very passionate in claiming that this wouldn't have even happened if ten simply followed protocol. you were told in great detail why the camera wasn't ready to be tested and how ten knew this. this came just before a heated rant about how he was proving to be a poor supervisor, as he was repeatedly trying to cut corners in order to push products out faster. it was quite the earful. you tried to take in the scenery like you had earlier in the day, but this time you were unable to. the beautiful flowers and sculptures were all a blur as he spoke. in truth, you were interested in what he had to say. you couldn't deny that it was entertaining. not only that, but it opened your mind to a plethora of scenarios about what would occur when johnny arrived at the lab. he seemed too angry to be as kind as he was each time you were disrespectful toward him. as bad as it was, thinking about someone in a situation far worse than your own was comforting in a way. he finally halted his story once you reached the back door. when he went to turn the doorknob, you noticed he was gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles a pale white shade. "i don't want you to feel like you have to be locked up in your room all the time, so i'm going to walk you to the common room," he told you. it was evident that he was trying his hardest to soften his tone for you, to which you gave a small smile as a sign of your gratitude. it really did mean a lot that he didn't want to take his anger out on you. "i doubt you know a lot about how a tv works, but whoever we pass on the way there gets to be the one to show you how it works. you can find a movie to watch."

it didn't take you very long to decide that the tv was extremely strange, and yet you really liked whatever it was you were watching. the story was built around a zombie apocalypse in what looked to be america several lifetimes ago. you weren't sure of the name, since one of the workers put it on for you, but you would make sure to ask at some point. your flats were somewhere on the floor in front of you, your feet pulled up onto the couch. a soft pillow rested below your head, a light blanket draped over your body. the feeling of tiredness returning so soon after the couple of days you spent asleep didn't make sense. you spent a few minutes pondering over it as zombies were slaughtered on the large screen in front of you, only to come to the conclusion that it had to be the amount of food you ate. your sleepy mind drifted to a magazine clipping your brother had found so many years ago about how large quantities of food can sometimes make a person feel drowsy. this had to be the reason. you tried to fight it, but the large couch felt so nice beneath you, the blanket so soft against your exposed skin. unable to hold them open anymore, you finally let your eyes flutter shut. you hoped there would be a way to finish the movie whenever you woke.

author’s note: just because i feel like there’s at least going to be one person to comment on it, i just want to clarify that i know jisung is not fifteen in real life (:

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Father Figure

Title: Father Figure Summary: Reader admits that her father figure is more than just a figure. Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader Prompt: #3 “Call me when you get home”; #47 “Nobody talks you that way, got it? Warnings: fluff, fainting, description of symptoms, swearing Word Count: 1022 This was written for the @moonlit-imagines writing challenge. Prompts are bolded and in italics A/N:  English is not my mother tongue, so any mistakes are on me because I’m still learning. Enjoy your reading!

^

You were supposed to visit Tony at the tower after school, but you weren’t in the mood for talking or anything. You just wanted to be at home, so you texted him

Hi T! I’m not going to pass by today. I have a bunch of stuff from school so I’m heading home directly. Talk to you later! Love u

You put your phone back in your pocket and kept walking to your house. A few minutes later your phone buzzed, telling you that you’ve received a message.

Hey Sweetie! I’m sorry you can’t come. You want some help with it? Anyway, call me when you get home, ok? Love u too

You open the text message, you answer a quick “ok” and put your phone back.

Tony is like a father to you, he took you in when you were little, your dad used to work for him and your mom was out of the picture, so the best thing he could do was raised you like his own. You were grateful for everything he has been giving you all these years. Right now you were in your first year of college and everyone thought could bully you and mistreated you because you were the Stark protected. 

When you arrived at your house, you were holding back the tears, the amount of stress you’ve been through lately was the worst. You were at a point where your sleeping was almost non-existent and your appetite was long gone, you don’t even remember when was the last time you had a proper meal. You left your stuff on the floor next to the door, you didn’t bother to bring those things to your room, you didn’t have the strength to do anything. You walked straight to the small living room in your house and started to do some late homework you hadn’t handed in yet. It was impossible to focus on what you were doing, your vision getting blurry because of the tears you weren’t able to release, not yet.  You don’t know what happened but you started to feel light-headed, everything was fuzzy around you, and you felt like you were floating. You tried to grab your phone to call Tony because you were scared, but everything faded to black.

*Tony’s POV*

Tony checked his phone for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. He was worried because you’ve always texted him when you arrived at your house no matter what. But today was different, he didn’t know how but he could feel that something was happening to you.

-Jarvis, try calling Y/N -Right away sir

At this moment, Tony was dead worried. He didn’t know if you were ok or something worse had happened to you

-She’s not answering, sir — Jarvis interrupted Tony’s thought -Tell the Cap I’m not available and reschedule our meeting. Thanks

Tony grabbed his jacket and his car keys to check up on you. He was too worried to not act up. While driving his mind raced a mile per hour with bad thoughts and the worst-case scenarios. He stopped in your driveway and went directly to your door knocking a few times and waiting for you to answer.

-Y/N, sweetheart, is me, open up — he said Nothing, no response -Kiddo, come on. I’m getting older in here Again, nothing. Tony knew where you hid your spare key as well as he had one, but he never used them because he didn’t want to intrude, but today he didn’t have any other choice. He wasn’t expecting to found you on the floor when he opened the door, you were laying on the floor, lifeless. He rushed to you, noticing that your skin was cold but sweaty and really pale. -Jarvis, call 911 -Yes sir — the AI answered -Hey, kid, wake up — he called you Y/N opened her eyes up not understanding what was going on -What happened? — she asked confused -Don’t know, you tell me Y/N was about to answer when the ambulance arrived. They took her to the hospital for a check up.

Once you were  alone with Y/N, and with a diagnostics, you were about to scold her up when you heard her sniffling

-Honey, what happened? -Life, that’s happening -Ok. Would you like to be more specific? Mainly focusing on the fact that you’ve not been sleeping or eating properly. When was the last time you ate something? - It’s the school — she admitted  -What about it? You don’t like it? -No, it’s not that. But is too stressful, the teachers are giving me a lot of extra work because you are the one who takes care of me. Everyone bullies me because I’m “the daughter” of Tony Stark. And because I’ve that extra work, I’m behind in a few classes and I don’t have enough time to make everything, so I reduced my sleeping hours. -And eating? -I’m not hungry, and every time I eat something, I ended up getting sick because of the stress. -Ok. I’ll talk with your dean. Don’t worry -It’s not only that — she whispered -What is it? -There’s one teacher that has been harassing me and mistreating me because I use the Stark last name. Today he told me that I wasn’t worthy of using the Stark last name because I’m only a charity case for you and that you don’t love me and I don’t deserve you — she explained crying -Y/N, that’s not true. I may not be good with words, but you are my daughter and I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved so far — you told her caressing her arm -I know T, but if you go, everything is going to get worst -You like it or not, I will go to talk at your school because nobody talks to you that way, got it? -she nodded -Thanks, Tony. I love you -I love you Y/N — you hugged her — Now, rest. Everything is going to be fine, I promise. — you kissed her forehead.

Tag List (If you want to be added, let me know)

| @iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @void-hoechlin | @mrspeacem1nusone | @thevelvetseries | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem | @caplanbuckybarnes | 

[jadelynlace]

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath. 

chapter three / catch up here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. also! as apparent in the last chapter, Ivar’s canon dick-can’t-get-wet-problem doesn’t exist. It can go fuck off with the canon ending in my humble opinion. 

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

“You lie,” Ivar says suddenly, shoving your body to place a strong force of distance between you. “Freydis loves me,” Even at his small attempts to prove his own mind to work in his favor, you still catch yourself passing another laugh.

“And do you love her?” You answer, a slick smile spreading through your lips as the amber waves go over your shoulders. “Because lying with another woman as a man who has wed does not sound like love,” Ivar looms over you as you speak, twisting his torso to peak a menacing glare through how he holds on to the sorrow you’ve suddenly stuck him with. His hand grabs your throat at such a speed your flinch is caught far after he has his grip on you.

“You are lying,” Ivar spits again. “You lie because you can not deal with what is truthful,” You feel the pressure along your airways tighten, the hum of the faint dark ink creeping along your vision as Ivar watches your eyes flutter. Suddenly his hand loosens and your mouth opens to pull in as much oxygen as your lungs will take.There’s a quick spark of fear spreading to a fire through your body as you crawl away from him; you know this time Ivar will not wait to call for help because he will ensure you are left at the gates of Valhalla. Scurrying back to your garments, it’s quick work to tie your dress haphazardly as you ready yourself to flee from him. Ivar’s eyes are still stuck on you with such distaste for your words it only makes you fonder, desperate to twist the knife further and tell him more of what you know.

“When that child is born you will see it resembles nothing of you. The only lie that I have ever spoken was that I did not love you. I have loved you Ivar, and I have had to deal with that,” You can hear his roar as you leave the hall, the shatters of broken ceramics not soon after.

*

Ivar hovers over a plain of disillusioned fate, the promises of returning to a woman who claimed her love for a monster like him torn from his crippled hands. His mood sours, even far past what he was normally known to hold as the meal around them takes no interest of his. Chatter from Hvitserk in one ear, chatter from his men in the other. Ivar had yet to look up to see you standing.

“Yes?” Hvitserk says, a faint turn of his head to your figure. Ivar’s eyes peel briefly as he flinches a whisper of fear through his bones from his spot. You place the dagger on the table that belongs to Ivar. “How did you get that?” Hvitserk questions, reaching for the steel blade that you pull back.

“Your hair still curls like it did when you were young,” You voice comes, the meal halfway towards Hvitserk’s lips stopping short. “It is fine that you do not remember me, I would not blame you. Have you not told your brother the tale, Ivar?” You speak, turning your head to look back at him. He is set to sail at the sun’s rise and you will swim behind the boats if you have to. Ivar just laughs, the ring of his amusement falling short with the snap of you wrist, the blade flying to piece the wooden table next to his hand.

“Leave,” He yells. You grab the lone cup of mead on your passage out of the room, drowning the concoction past your lips before tossing the container along the floor.

The moon is high when Hvitserk finds you, silver light past your cheek bones as it dances off of his blonde waves. He studies your body from where you’ve seated yourself, the rocks catching your figure as you try to keep the tears at bay. Ivar did not deserve them then, and he does not now. You would charge him for every droplet of salted water, every scar, every broken jagged twist of your heart if it was possible. The words in his voice that take up your mind, his touch, how tightly he held you. The men you have killed so that you would not simply slaughter him.

“What did Ivar do?” His voice beckons softly, curling around your cloak and lacing with the amber on your shoulders. The lapping water takes your voice from you briefly as you arrange the words on your lips to tell him of the past faults that only you and Ivar knew of.

“When you heat a blade over flame, it pierces more smoothly. Did you know that?” There is no answer given to you as Hvitserk shifts to seat himself where you are. “It is what he did not do. Do you remember the young girl who used to pull him in the wagon? The young woman who would challenge him in the woods when you would practice alongside him?”

“Yes,” Hvitserk answers. “She went missing—left,”

“Ah, that was the tale they told,” You sigh. “You know better of that, do you not Hvitserk?” You catch the way he looks at you, puzzled brow as he absorbs the sight before him. “I never went missing, Hvitserk. I fell, dueling Ivar and he could not help me up but he spoke of getting help. He never came back,” Your words fell past your mouth like tightly coiled ropes, thunking weight on to the ground, unraveling to be picked up and climbed. “I was there until travelers found me, and I went with them,” You added as Hvitserk sighed, his disappointment taking hold of your dropped ropes and latching on.

“And you think he has changed since then?” He asks, his question hanging heavily in the air.

“People do not change, Hvitserk. The seasons may, but people do not. I longed for an answer to why he would not return, and perhaps I will never get one,” You said. You knew Ivar was still under there, under the look of madness, the look of evil. The man that held you last night, making love, was the man you knew. The shocked eyes of being told he was unfavored by his queen were of a new person, failure to read even the simplest scenarios—that was not Ivar. He was not a blind man, nor a stupid one, but you wished for one day perhaps he could be—he could be told of something and simply accept it. He was not in love with Freydis. He was not surprised you came back. But he was sorry that he left you there to die. Crawling from ash as a walking miracle of the skin he dreamt of, rotting on those rocks as he could do nothing with his useless body to save you.

“You will sail back with us,” Hvitserk suddenly states as he bends to stand.

“Hvitserk,” You speak as he halts to turn back to you, brows raised in expectancy for the next question across your lips. “I have been sailing with you since you left Kattegat,” You admit as his face churns to catch where you have slithered through a lie within your words. “I never left, that was only the tale,”

*

Birth of Freydis’ son chimes through the town, up over the valleys and down through the trees, squawking between the ravens, and croaking between the toads. The town rejoices for their new prince upon the return of Ivar and his men, his attempts to act in celebration are only caught to be faulty by your eyes. What comes next are the whispers of Ivar’s unacceptance, his torment of throwing them out because the son carried a skin tone not of Ivar’s and not of Freydis’, eyes deep and dark and the near newly reborn spitting image of the baker’s son. Ivar wanted the man hanged, spread wide and pulled between layers of flesh for all to see. He wanted to pull the blonde hair in Freydis’ braid and choke her own airways. He wanted that bastard child left to the wolves.

Your meal was adorned before you, petty pickings from your cutlery on account of your absent appetite. Even if Ivar knew the truth now, it still did not make you feel any higher. You knew you were broken, but you would never doubt you were powerful—you had destroyed yourself, and it had been glorious. The pounding on the door halts you but you leave it as minuscule in your peripheral visions of things left of importance. You add wood to your fire and put out the last candles, collecting the scraps of your nightly meal to toss to the wildlife that litter the area past the great hall. Through all of your routine the pounding did not cease. With a pull of your shaw you cross the threshold and pull the door from its home, and the guard’s eyes sparkle in the light of the full moon.

“Your king has requested you,” He says. Nodding to the man, you follow his beckoning towards the quarters that hold Ivar’s throne.

“I figured you may haunt me, tell me that you were right to spite me,” Ivar’s voice says as you enter the room. His back is turned to you, speaking his words into the yellow fire that crackles but you can not detect any movement on his body. His voice comes across as dead, so brokenly mundane that you even can tell he makes no effort to hide what he’s feeling.

“Hvitserk never did handle his mead well,” You find yourself saying, the brief smile you crack at how untimely he must have spoken of your return on the ships with them, and how closely you had stayed apparent now. “And I can say all of that if that is what you wish Ivar,” His chuckle calls through your mind as you cross in through the room, padding behind him. “What became of them?” You asked.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Ivar says back all to bluntly for your favor.

“What would you like to become of them?” You ask from behind him. “Because while you have motive to hurt them Ivar, I do not,” You sang from where you were, crossing hands over his shoulders as you level your head next to his, your arm stretching out before both of you towards the hearth. “The burn of a flame can be put out, it can be controlled,” You whisper as you move your arm to the swords on the high wall. “A lot of blood comes from very specific places, but slice precisely and they take time to perish,” Your lips curl by his ear as your breath fans across the hair that has crawled his jaw, tracing your nail along his chin. “The meat of a mortal tastes the same to a wolf,” You add as you catch his jaw to look to you. “Whatever horror you want me to gift to them, Ivar, I will do it,” You spit as his eyes watch you. “You know how simple it is to break a bone,” Ivar’s tongue passes over his lips after you go quiet, your offer taking up space in his mind of the torment he could let you run madly free with. How there was no limit to what you now knew to do because you had spent far too long dreaming up how you would hurt Ivar for leaving you under that sky. You watch his chest heave quickly, a slow smile spreading over his mouth as his mind wanders. “You can bathe in their blood and show your people that there is no one who should cross Ivar the Boneless,”

He had never been this quiet for this long in the time you have known him. Ivar’s eyes mimic the oceans he has sailed for his path to ruthlessness as he stares at you, dancing through the shadows on your cheeks as you level yourself into his lap.

“Can I watch?” Is all he asks.

“You answer my one question, and you can watch anything you desire,” You say as he nods, sinking slightly from you as you sit just inches from his heart. “Why did you not come back?” You whisper, willing your voice not to crack under the extent of getting the chance to be gifted the one answer you ever wanted, but you are of no success. You eyes line with tears and although you need to blink them away, a stray droplet trickles across your cheek. It’s caught by the pad of Ivar’s thumb against your jaw as he looks back at you.

“You were gone when I came back,” Ivar simply answers.

“Now you are the one who lies,”

“You were,” Ivar repeated. “You jumped from that ledge, do you not remember?”

Tagged:

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[yuzukult]

effortlessly pt. 3 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (not in this chapter, will occur in future chapters) words: ~3.3k notes: i wrote this in between writing my reports and preparing for my presentation... yes, inspiration always sparks when you have other things to prioritize ** tried my best to proofread this one lol

i do not have an update schedule therefore i know that i definitely did just post part two like 2-3 days ago so...

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

This was utterly uncomfortable for the three of you... well the two of you because Jungkook is standing there with a smile still stretched across his face. It’s difficult to judge what thoughts are running through his head because he’s pointing to the bag in Dahyun’s hand as she lifts her arm up to give it to him.

“Well, I’m glad you like me. I’m your tutor after all. It would have been really weird if you hated me—”

“Jeon, she has feelings for you.” You break in, scantily agitated with his absentmindedness. Jungkook wasn’t stupid when it came to the books, blessed with athletic ability, and had great social skills but he was awful in the love department.

“Feelings?” He turns to look at you surprisingly before switching his stare back to Dahyun. “When you say ‘go out’ you mean... date. As in more than a friend?”

You’re doubtful if Dahyun is thankful for your presence or not, however she’s sighing with relief that he finally reads her perspective successfully. Jungkook had misinterpreted almost every confession is what Dahyun learns, fearing that he would do the same with her. “Yes, oppa. I want to be more than friends, have more than just a student and tutor relationship with you.”

You want to run and hide. Why the hell did Jungkook tell her to say it with you standing here? You’ve encountered plenty of occasions where the atmosphere was awkward but this takes the cake. Jungkook never failed to surprise you. 

Clearing your throat, you sheepishly rub the back of your neck. “Uh, I’m just gonna wait outside. I’ll be by your car when you’re done.”

Jungkook’s piercing gaze meets yours and if you didn’t turn away, you’re definitely sure that you’d feel the daggers. 

“I’m sorry, Dahyun-ah.” His face is washed with guilt and sympathy but the look on Dahyun’s face doesn’t show an ounce of bitterness or sadness. “Don’t worry about it, Oppa. I know you mean well.”

Jungkook’s rummaging through his duffle bag that sits on one of the benches by the pool, searching for a shirt before throwing it over his body. He recognizes how embarrassing it is standing in front of a girl who just confessed to him and he doesn’t even have a shirt on. 

“I’m sorry. I... want to prioritize swimming right now. I haven’t even really thought about dating anyone else right now. Recruiters are coming by the finals and I want to be ready for it.”

“Anyone else?” She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, deep in thought. “Was it the girl that was standing here just now? Is she that ‘anyone else’?”

Startled, his eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Jungkook Oppa, please don’t make excuses and lie to me. If you don’t like me back, just come out and say it. I can take rejection.”

He frowns. He isn’t familiar with the emotion resulting in being turned down by someone you like but he can comprehend the feeling of longing for someone you can’t have. “Dahyun, it’s not the right time. There’s nothing wrong with you, I’m just very dedicated to my career.” Jungkook hesitates for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip before gathering enough courage to continue his response authentically. “And I’ll be honest, I’ve had my eye on someone for a long time. I’m waiting for her to notice her own feelings without pressuring her. I hope you understand.”

But she clearly doesn’t. Her heart feels like it’s being torn into shreds carelessly and she wants to burst into tears but she holds a facade in front of Jungkook to validate her own ‘mature and adult demeanor,’ and that she wasn’t just any younger girl he tutors.

“I don’t,” She admits, clenching her teeth. “But I won’t pursue you anymore. I’ll see you after I get the results of my math exam back.” Dahyun says firmly before making her way out of the swimming arena.

Heaving a sigh of alleviation, Jungkook slugs the duffle bag over his shoulder as he watches her silhouette disappear. 

Despite all the lovely things about him, Jungkook’s biggest flaw was his guilty conscience. He always found himself in situations where he’d do things for people out of feeling guilty, even if it meant he had to go out of his way to do it. He had been trying to practice the words “no” or “I can’t” but the terms would eat him up inside, causing his stomach to churn in anxiety. He would have inner arguments with himself until he goes back and tells the person that he can do it, even if he didn’t want to.

In a different scenario, he could see himself telling Dahyun that he would consider her confession and take her out on a date. Even though she was a bit younger than him, she was pretty and nice but saying yes to her meant that his chances with you were slim. 

Yet again, your existence in his life only improved him for the better. For the first time, he said no to someone, for the benefit of himself, even if the situation wasn’t good for someone else. 

You’re leaning on Jungkook’s old beat up Lexus in the parking lot of the school, playing Animal Crossing on your phone before the shadow of a figure approaches you slowly, altering your attention toward the person. Dahyun.

“Dahyun,” You call out, standing up straight and off the car. “Uh, sorry about Jungkook. How are you?”

Dahyun stands there, a blank look slapped on her face as if she’s seen a ghost. “He said swimming comes first. Then he said something about having feelings for someone else. Is he just finding excuses to reject me at this point?”

“Huh?” Slips from your lips, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “He has feelings for someone? I didn’t know that specifically, but uh, I do know that swimming is Jungkook’s dream. Don’t take it personally, it’s just something he has always wanted to do.”

She shakes her head, regaining consciousness again before locking eyes with yours. “He definitely said he had feelings for someone. How don’t you know? Aren’t you supposed to be his friend?”

“Yes but—“ You’re hesitating, uncertain on how to comfort her. This hasn’t necessarily been your strongest suit and it was starting to bite you in the ass for never strengthening that weakness. “—I’m sure that even with whomever he said he has feelings for, he’s still prioritizing his dreams.”

“I guess I was stupid enough to think someone like him could ever fall for someone like me.” 

Watching as Dahyun slouches in her school uniform while exhaling a deep breath, you couldn’t help but feel yourself in her position. Her shoulders drop along with her expression before she attempts to shake off the melancholic emotions, waving a goodbye to you. “I’m going to head home. Thanks anyway.”

In a sense, you were Dahyun. Maybe not someone who Jungkook tutors but the words that Dahyun said rang in your ears like a thought you had previously. I guess I was stupid enough to think someone like him could ever fall for someone like me. What made you special enough in Jungkook’s eyes to be more than just a friend? What about this girl that Dahyun was talking about? Who was she and would you even be able to convince Jungkook of your feelings enough for him to consider you?

Jungkook’s nearing appearance manages to snap you out of your thoughts before it got any more negative than it already had. He unlocks the car doors, slamming it after he settles into the seat. You follow in unison with his actions.

“Ugh,” He groans, dropping his forehead onto the steering wheel of his car. “That was my first rejection. I feel so bad for her.”

“Everyone gets rejected at least once, I’m sure she’ll be okay eventually.”

Jungkook throws his head back against the leather seats that are worn to the point it’s peeling and tearing off. He refused to get himself seat covers because he liked the authentic look of the car being in its original shape. 

“She looked like she was going to burst into tears.”

“What are you going to do then? Date her out of pity?” You raise a brow questioningly. He looks in your direction with a pout and you shake your head in response. “That’s what I thought. Speaking of, how are you going to interrogate me about having a crush when Dahyun here just told me you have feelings for someone? Contradicting, much?”

He freezes. The keys are in the ignition but he hasn’t started the vehicle yet, jaw clenched restlessly. Jungkook is trying to observe your expression through his peripheral vision but fails miserably. “... Did she say anything else?”

“Nothing other than you saying that swimming is number one. Why, did you tell her anything else?”

“Uh, no.” He says abruptly, finally turning the key as the car stutters until letting out a heavy rumble. Tilting your head, it’s your turn to lean in closer to Jungkook to examine his face. “You told her about the girl, didn’t you?”

“Uh, no.” He repeats, gulping anxiously. 

“Who is she?”

“I never said there was a girl.” 

“You’re lying. You said earlier that you could tell when I lie. Do you think I don’t have that same exact ability? Come on, Jeon. Talk to me.”

“Nah,” Clicking the seatbelt on over his body, he puts the car in drive before hitting the gas. “Maybe I’ll tell you more during dessert. After you tell me what’s on your mind lately.”

“Has Jungkook ever had a girlfriend?”

“What?” You retort, completely off-guard. You’re sitting squished at a table in a KBBQ restaurant with the rest of Jungkook’s swim team including several of their girlfriends and other friends. Hoseok is sitting across from you, munching on another piece of grilled pork before reiterating his question. 

“You’ve known him like forever. Has he ever had a girlfriend?”

“... Not that I know of—“

“No.” Jungkook chimes in, squinting his eyes at the older male. “Why are you asking this?”

“You wouldn’t tell me,” Hoseok says casually, eyeing the younger with the same expression. “Plus, I wanna hook you up with someone. Are you just going to be a prude up until college?”

“No.” Jungkook says again, picking up his chopsticks to grab a couple pieces of cooked meat and placing it onto your plate. Hoseok is watching closely at the actions between the two of you and you can feel his intense stare penetrating through you. 

Hoseok snaps, his face brightening. “Exactly! That’s why I want you to meet with this girl I know, maybe she can—”

Jungkook waves his hand in dismissal, leaning his other arm on the table. “I meant no, as in no, Hoseok, I am not a prude.” With those words, suddenly his audience extended from Hoseok to the entire team.

“Bro, you’re fucking with us. You kissed someone?”

“Well,” He starts, dropping his body onto the back of his seat. “I did it all.”

Your face is flushing crimson. Jungkook is really testing your patience today, isn’t he? First Dahyun’s confession and now this? Stuffing lettuce and a couple pieces of meat into your mouth, you’re attempting to pretend to keep yourself busy to the point that you’re not included in the conversation.

“No way,” Hoseok’s eyes are widened to the point it could fall out of its sockets. “Who was it? Do we know her?”

“I don’t think it matters.” Jungkook responds, stuffing some kimchi into Hoseok’s mouth to stop him from speaking any more. “You don’t need to hook me up then, right? Since I already lost my virginity?”

“Oh, it definitely matters,” Chimes in Jimin, another member from the team. He’s sitting on the other side of Jungkook, tugging on the younger male’s sleeve. “Tell us, tell us! You never even had a girlfriend. Was it a one night stand? Do you even do one night stands? You don’t even look like you sleep around.”

Irritated by the interrogation, he groans, aggressively ruffling his hair. He smells like your signature vanilla scented shampoo and you’re wondering if he stole some from your house or if he decided that it was going to be a staple item in his routine. “I don’t do one night stands. She’s just someone I wanted to do my first time with.”

“Wow, she sounds special. You gonna ask her out or what?” Jimin asks, body shifting closer to Jungkook. 

“What makes you think he likes her?” Hoseok counters. 

Jimin rolls his eyes at his teammate before attacking back. “He specifically wanted her to take his virginity, what else could it be?”

Hoseok’s mouth drops, suddenly shocked by Jimin’s statement. “Wait, you make a good point. Forget that college chick taking your virginity, who’s this girl that you, yourself, chose to pop your cherry? I wanna know! Wait—” His lips tug into an impish grin as he turns to watch you cramming a portion full of kimchi into your mouth. “—You know.”

“What?” You say; if Yura was here right now she’d call you a hypocrite for speaking with your mouth full. “You know who the girl is. It’s impossible for Jungkook to hide anything from you, you definitely know who it is.”

“I—“ Just then, the door of the restaurant rings its bell, a figure making its way to the table as he screams a bright “hello!”

Kim Taehyung.

He’s still as handsome as ever. The last time you saw him, his hair was in between a shade of grey and a platinum but you’re not really sure since it was hidden underneath his graduation cap. He must have dyed it sometime when he left because the strands from his head are now a pastel pink. 

Taehyung was your unofficial hero, intruding in the conversation and capturing everyone’s attention away from you when you needed him the most.

The team is rowdy at the sight of their friend, taking turns shoving and pulling on him as he expresses his love for them in return, full of laughs and smiles. 

“I heard our little Kook won the 100m freestyle today!” He says, hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, dragging him into his embrace. “Congrats! I’m so proud of you! I also missed you, buddy. Look how far you’ve gone!”

Despite Jungkook dismissing your crush on Taehyung, he was still Jungkook’s role model. Taehyung did the impossible— snatching up the international scholarship and heading to a well renowned university to be part of their swim team. Everything Taehyung was is what Jungkook aspired to be.

“Thanks, Hyung. Can’t believe you’re back, what are you doing here?”

He lets out a chuckle, running his fingers through his soft locks that cascaded over his face. Taehyung was like the lead character of an anime; a flawless personality and attractive. Maybe the only negative thing about him was that he never pursued a relationship and girls were always left rejected, jilted and disappointed... why does that sound familiar?

“Decided to come back during my semester break. Where’s your love?” Right when he says the term of endearment, his eyes meet yours, your cheeks burning hot. “Taehyung.”

The way he says your name sounds smooth and sweet like honey to the point it’s what you want yourself to drown in. He’s advancing toward you, arms opened and welcoming you into his hold. “Missed you, bub. We should meet during my time here and catch up.”

From behind, Jungkook’s nose is scrunched up in disgust. Bub?

The night was filled with stories of the States that Taehyung shares amongst the group; how he managed to get lost after getting on the subway, or a time where he ordered the wrong thing off the menu but it was a great experience, or the time he dyed his hair the wrong color because of miscommunication with the barber. Regardless, Taehyung was living an entirely different life in America and although alone, he seemed... happy.

Eventually, the owners of the restaurant have to escort you guys out of the place, overstaying your welcome there.

“Shall we head for dessert?” Jungkook asks, hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“This late?”

“Maybe places aren’t open but... you wanna stay over the night? I’ve been waiting patiently throughout dinner to hear what you’re going to say and I don’t want to leave the night without hearing it.”

Right. You were supposed to confess to Jungkook tonight. You had finally gathered enough courage to confess to your best friend of almost two decades, possibly throwing your friendship on the line. Should you even do it? Was it even worth it?

“Please.” Jungkook begs, pouting with his puppy eyes. And as if he could almost read your mind, he adds, “Nothing you can say will make me leave you.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Out of the shower, you point with your head toward the bathroom, trying to grab Jungkook’s attention by calling out his name. You’re in a baggy shirt you borrow from him and a pair of shorts you accidentally left over, too lazy to actually walk over next door to grab your own clothes for the night. “It’s your turn.”

He swallows. His stare is glued to your exposed, smooth, freshly shaved legs that you flaunt previously in achievement. Eyes roaming over your body, he feels his lower stomach stir when he notices how obvious it is you’re not wearing a bra— the sudden change in temperature from the steaming hot shower to the cool windy night in his bedroom perks your nipples through the thin fabric.

You crinkle your brows. “What are you drooling over? Go shower, you reek of chlorine.”

After he quickly shifts off the bed and showers, he comes out, dressed in his own pjs, pulling the covers off the bed that you’re sitting underneath.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“We still need to talk.”

“There’s no dessert here.” You state firmly.

He glares at you, sliding into the empty space beside you before snagging the blanket to drape over the both of you. “Just think of me. I’m sweet.”

You hum, lying down closer to him to gather his radiating body warmth as he wraps his arms around your frame. “More like bitter.”

Jungkook must have been spent. His breathing was slowing down and his lids were heavy from such an eventual yet long day that it even shut him up from responding with a comeback.

When what feels like hours later, you’re still awake, head resting on his chest with his arm placed underneath your body. “This feels right,” you say to no one in particular, tapping your finger against his peck. “Everything about you feels right.”

Letting out a sigh, you continue. “Watching and hearing about all these girls that are head over heels for you eventually get rejected or forgotten about is discouraging. It makes me feel as though I’m just like them— pining for a guy who would never love me back. I remember when I told you about my crush on Taehyung and you immediately shot down my beliefs. I hated you for that until I realized that you were right. Maybe I didn’t like him because once I knew how I felt about you, my crush... seemed so small in comparison.” You’re tracing imaginary shapes on his body with your pointer finger, murmuring while scrambling through your disorganized thoughts.

“Yura convinced me to tell you how I feel. I don’t understand what goes on in her mind but she thinks that you’ve been hinting things to me. Even so, I’m scared of losing you as a friend. What if this doesn’t work out? What if you reject me and we resent each other?” You clench your jaw, taking in a deep breath before rounding up every brave cell in your body. “Regardless of that... I think I love you.” and instantaneously, you feel the weight of burden lift from your shoulders. Even though he’s asleep through your confession, it felt good to at last say those words confidently out loud.

But Jungkook’s not asleep. He’s wide awake, freezing in place like a statue, careful not to startle you. You love him.

[ad1thi]

5, 9, 10 😌✨

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

yes and no. i can’t, at the top of my head think of specific pairings that i shipped before fandom that i don’t anymore; but there’s definitely ships that i was divorced from when i entered fandom that i now really loudly am passionate about just because i know fandom is horrible to them. the most particular example i can come up with is pepperony, because i definitely went through a period right at the start of fandom where i ended up, by accident, following a lot of anti pepperony stevetony blogs and i was still quite new to fandom so i read a lot of meta that in hindsight was clearly from a Pepper comes in the middle of my white mlm ship perspective than it actually was productive and insightful perceptions of characters. So i definitely had a period where i wasn’t very pro Pepperony, ive since moved past that and recognised my own misogyny in that line of thinking.

 i was also kind of into ironstrange for a brief period post IW, until i realised that most, if not all ironstrange fics (at the time anyway) were just replacing Steve Rogers with Stephen Strange, and it just felt more Anti Steve than it was pro ironstrange. The same exists to a degree with ironbat, because you’re actually hard-pressed to find ironbat content not set in a post CACW world; but i was lucky enough to come to ironbat much later, so it didn’t affect my enjoyment of the ship as much. 

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

WANDA FUCKING MAXIMOFF. I appreciate that there’s people who like her, and I guess each to their own, but I despise mcu Wanda. I can’t stand the fact that everyone is so comfortable to gloss over the fact that she willingly!!joined HYDRA!!a nazi organisation!!for the sole purpose!!of KILLING Tony Stark!!and that’s somehow okay!!

I’m just - im not sure right if i just watched a completely different film than everybody else, but Wanda literally joins HYDRA for the purpose of getting back with Tony, FUCKS WITH EVERYBODY’S MINDS and then faces zero repercussions,,,literally confirms on screen!! that she purposely sent Tony into a self destructive state by showing him his worst fears,,,,joins forces with Ultron!! only leaves Ultron when she realises that Ultron doesn’t plan to spare her and her brother in his quest to kill humanity,,,says some bullshit line about Ultron doesn’t know the difference between saving the world and ending it, who do you think he gets that from? KNOWING FULL WELL THAT SHE SENT TONY INTO A SELF DESTRUCTIVE STATE IN THE FIRST PLACE,,,never apologises for everything that she does

and then in CACW she fucking loses control of her powers in Lagos!! killing and injuring people!! and still somehow plays the victim!! PUTS VISION THROUGH THE FLOOR when he tries to protect her (again, bearing in mind that she literally just killed people and isn’t an american citizen, which actually means that Tony agreeing to keep her in the Compound was likely Tony’s way of protecting her from worse scenarios because we all know how nice the US is to immigrants,,,especially quote unquote dangerous immigrants)

and then!! empties an entire parking lot!! onto Tony!! just because she was upset!!! 

anyway i fucking hate her

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

i think the fact that Tony’s arc ends with him dying. I hate the direction most arcs went in Endgame, but i particularly hate Tony’s because the explanation was that Tony had five years of a good life so clearly he had his happy ending and it was okay for him to die but somehow the same was not okay for Cl*nt or Scott because they had a family to go back to. like!!so did Tony!! you gave him a daughter and a wife!! he also had a family to go back to!!

also there’s something very fucked up about how Tony, the character who goes through the most visible trauma - i have meta somewhere about how Iron Man is the only superhero to visibly take on damage) - both physically and mentally (bearing in mind that his whole arc in im3 is his fight against pstd); and wins,,,he learns to deal with his trauma and recovers and fights it -- and is then shown to die. it’s a very subliminal message, but the fact that he doesn’t get a happy ending, this character that we see persevere through both internal and external struggles, the fact that his arc ends with him dying; it’s just fucked up.

and then you watch hoco and ffh and you realise oh!! it doesn’t fucking end there!! you’re just going to milk Tony as this cash cow and come up with this whole new list of laundry defects that he has,,,for villains to get mad about,,,because god forbid the villain in a superhero film actually have beef with the superhero himself,,,no it’s much better for him to dislike the superhero’s mentor and for the superhero to just get caught up in the drama,,,,and let’s make the man who’s arc STARTED with him stopping weapons production make a shit ton of weapons and give it to some teenager,,,completely negating all his character development because he’s clearly just right back where he started -- with his tech in the wrong hands,,,

and basically i just have a lot of beef with how Tony’s character is handled by the R*ssos and i think the R*ssos should be blacklisted from making films cuz they clearly have characters they favour and when you make ensemble films like this you have to give due credit and consideration to all characters - not just kill the ones you don’t like. 

salty ask list

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Werewolf Thomas x Merman Sammy.

This might end up taking multiple chapters, in addition to me digging in too deep, this ship in general just gives off a petty enemies, to reluctant allies due to supernatural circumstances, to ‘hey you’re not as bad as I thought.’, to friends, to lovers vibe.

Occam's razor indicates that the simplest explanation to a scenario is also the most likely scenario to be the true one.

For example: when an animation studio suddenly closes down and gets condemned, people who are on the outside looking in are much more likely to blame the studio's poor money management than go look for some extraordinary truth. That, paired with the workers of the said studio also coming out to site the terrible conditions of the place as an added cause for the studio's demise. When people have to work long hours with little pay to show for it in a dingy, gloomy, constantly-falling-apart studio that clearly wasn't going anywhere except six feet under or lower, they aren't exactly motivated to work hard or happy.

The Hunger was intense, growing beyond mere gnawing and was now consuming the cursed mechanic. The first change he felt was his teeth, the Curse deciding it was easier to make them all fall out at once so his new ones would grow in. He cut up his own tongue on the newly-made fangs. Call it an act of mercy or an act of mockery, but the tongue followed the teeth's example, falling out altogether so that the tongue of a wolf could grow in.

No one batted an eye when a majority of the studio's former workers left with some of them being untraceable, the lucky ones moved on to greener and happier pastures, others simply got a change in scenery, and sadly, accidents happen all the time in such an unsafe studio, people got severely injured in there all the time, so it was gut-wrenching for many, but not a shock to discover that it was common for unlucky people to lose their lives in the Dancing Demon's domain.

His entire body burned on the inside and outside, taking off his clothes did nothing for him as his new, thick coat grew in, a coat that was the same pitch black as his hair, at least, most of it was. The change did not hurt as much as he thought it would. As painful as it sounded when his bones became a crackling choir that reminded him of fireworks, it was not pure agony, he was sore, afraid, and so, very, very, hungry, but he was physically fine.

No one suspected anything like somebody intentionally sabotaging the many pipes that pumped ink through the entire building, that would just be silly! It was more than obvious that the pipes got the same treatment as the rotting wooden walls: they were ignored until it was too late. With all the wood, paper, flammable ink, candles, no windows, and avid smokers in that place, it was only a matter of time before that place went up in flames.

Colors began to dim and fade out leaving him with vision that could only see black, white, and the several shades of gray inbetween them. The trade off with his senses made itself clear as his sense of smell and hearing both grew stronger, he could barely think as the smells and sounds his human self had been blind to came to him at full force, overwhelming the mechanic. He held back the urge to scream and call for help, he knew none would come, unless it was the dogcatcher at this point. However he would not hold back the urge to whine, whimper and cry, as pathetic as he looked and sounded, he would at least give himself that mercy, even if he didn't deserve it.

No one thought the ink machine was anything more but an expensive and stupid project that definitely sped up the studio's already fast decline, but only with it's mere presence. Honestly, a machine that made models out of ink, wouldn't it be cheaper and easier to make a statue of your beloved mascots out of plastic or something like that?

Thomas yelped in surprise when the tail grew in, it felt like somebody gave his spine a good sharp yank. He was furious, scared, even remorseful as he knew he was responsible for this happening to himself and possibly others knowing Mr. Drew, and by god, did he want to sink his teeth into something.

No one except for crazy cross-clutching worrywarts who want to spoil every one else's fun and or conspiracy theorists would assume that the Little devil darling who graced the comics and silver screens for at least a decade would have literal satanic magic going on behind the scenes, no matter how screwy the man in charge seemed.

He was starving all day ever since the ritual, but now that the changes were over, he felt hungrier than ever before, like his stomach was a black hole that would make him consume everything in his path.

No one would ever seriously suggest that magic was real and led to being the studio's final nail in the coffin instead of becoming its savior like it's founder had wanted it to.

In the moment, Thomas Conner believed that Occam's razor was bullshit.

The mechanic knew what he'd seen, he knew to an extent what he took part in, he saw what happened to some of the unluckier members of the "Missing" studio workers, and most importantly of all, he experienced what he just went through. There was no 'simple' or 'normal' explanation for it; the ritual failed and as a result, he and a handful of other people had gotten cursed.

Here the new wolf was, squeezing his now much larger body underneath his bed to do nothing but cower like a frighted animal while trying to convince himself not to panic or to eat his pet snake. Keeping his human mind at the moment was both a blessing and a cur- -some extra salt to rub into his fresh wounds.

On one hand, the fact he was still smart enough to know better than to jump out the window and follow his nose for food like his instincts were telling him to was a lifesaver that kept him safe from animal control. On the other hand; if he was a beast in mind, he would at least be doing something more productive than sulking in his apartment thinking about anything else other than how badly he got fucked over, how his life was in shatters and how he had nobody but himself to blame for it (Well, aside from Joey, but that wasn't the point).

While far from ideal, his current plan was to remain under that bed, try his best to go to sleep, and occasionally chew its legs to stop himself from going on a rampage. He might not be the most supernaturally informed person, but he had seen enough werewolf horror flicks to know that nothing good would come if he gave into his hunger or if he tried to leave. Best case scenario; he'd become as sick as a dog after eating something he found in the garbage. Worst case scenario; Somebody decides that he'd make a great living room rug and BANG!

And then, his ears perked up as he heard the song.

It was a simple, repetitive tune, made with a music box maybe? It was the first time he heard it yet it felt familiar to him. The song itself was muffled, used a lot of ambiance in its melody, and if he strained his ears enough, he could almost pick up the sound of a voice singing along with it, but it was far too faint for him to tell who or what was singing, let alone what the lyrics to the song were. It sounded nice in spite of it's strangeness, but it gave him goosebumps. He knew it wasn't playing from the radio, he only kept it on when he was fixing something at home.

The curious wolf struggled to push a window open with his snout to figure out where it was coming from. He was making progress, the song did sound slightly less muffled now that he was poking his head out the window. Was it just him, or did the tune become faster? And it was also louder and more frantic, and he swore that the constantly repeating motif sounded like something he knew. The mechanic never considered himself to be a man with a keen ear for music, but he knew he heard it before.

Three short notes, three slightly longer notes, three more short notes, again and again and again repeating endlessly...---...Wait a minute. Thomas didn't recognize that pattern from a song, he recognized that that was a call for help!

"Don't do it..." He grumbled to himself as he put his paws up on the windowsill. "You don't know what'll happen, or if you'll even get there in time. Just go back inside and you'll figure out what to do with yourself in the morning."

The song, almost as if it was aware he was trying to ignore it like he was ignoring his hunger, grew louder and faster.

"Don't give in..." The wolf turned back. "You can't help anyone like this anyway, you'll only end up hurting yourself."

It... started to die down, back to its regular, chilling melody and grew even softer. Flickering away like a candlelight in the cold.

"Don't..." The wolf let out a very tired sigh as he looked out the window. "Oh fuck me."

Thomas leapt out the window and sped towards the source of the song, not caring who or what saw him in the city that never sleeps, he bolted directly into the forest. He tried to block out the new sounds of various creatures he couldn't hear before as well as the new smells of the earth underneath his paws and the plants all around him.

Strange marks were on the ground, they looked like someone dragging themselves through the dirt and the marks themselves smelled vaguely of fish and ink.

The song, while faint was very close, he was hot on the mysterious caller's trail! In fact, the wolf's new sense of smell started to become useful as he picked up some familiar scents in the woods; the smell of ink, smoke from a fire, and the smell of cologne- Wait, he recognized that specific cologne, it was that fancy European brand that the "missing" hot-headed music director used to keep himself from smelling like cigar smoke, vomit, and despair.

And the voice of the singer in the distress call 'song' did sound like him now that he was close enough to hear it. He felt a pit of dread in his stomach that almost made him forget his hunger. He knew that the musician was far too prideful to call for help for anyone unless this was his very last option and his will to live made the difficult task of overpowering his ego.

Squelch.

Almost confirming his fears and adding a new one that he was too late, the mechanic made the mistake of looking down and saw that he stepped on a severed leg. A black, tar-like substance that smelled like ink and rotten meat was squeezed out of the part of the thigh that should've been attached to a person.

"...Mr. Lawrence?" He hesitantly called out, thankfully getting him an exhausted groan in response. "Lawrence, where are you?"

"Here." A hoarse yet relieved sounding voice answered. "Look down."

The wolf looked down into a shallow pool to see what had become of the musician. If he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't deny that the music director was always easy on the eyes, and while the curse effected him drastically, that fact about him didn't change.

The water was clear enough to show off the musician's jet black, fish-like tail which glistened in the moonlight, the still human half of his body went through some changes as well; his hands were webbed and clawed, unlikely to properly hold any instrument, let alone use it, his torso, arms, and neck had patches of black scales scattered about haphazardly like splashes of paint on a canvas. Aside from the siren's new set of teeth (which looked like they could haunt anyone's nightmares), waist-long hair when it was previously shoulder length hair, and glassier eyes, the man's head seemed relatively unchanged.

"Could you stop gawking!?" Sammy re-positioned himself to keep his tail out of sight, or at least he tried to, the damn thing was two thirds of his body and he didn't exactly have something to cover himself up with. "I'm not exactly 'thrilled’ about this... Change, for lack of a better term."

"That's one way to put it." The mechanic almost let out a sympathetic chuckle. "I’d never thought I’d be saying this, but it’s great to see you haven’t died yet.”

“Why thank you.” The merman sarcastically responded. “That’s exactly why I went through all the trouble of literally singing my fucking lungs out!” He exclaimed while gesturing to a pair of charcoal-black things that the wolf previously thought were rocks. “To hear you tell me that ‘it’s great I haven’t died yet’.”

The wolf rolled his eyes.

“So why did you go through all the trouble for summoning me here then? Aside from the whole ...fish thing, you seem perfectly fine.”

“It... wasn't intentional.” The fish-man begrudgingly admitted, his voice sounded bitter, but his eyes shone with fear. “I wasn’t thinking about who or what would hear me or come at the moment. My body was falling apart before my eyes and all that was on my mind during it was; ‘Oh god, I’m going to die here, aren’t I?! And if not, my life will be ruined beyond repair!’. And when I sang out as a panicked response, you became the first to show up. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The siren swam to the other side of his aquatic prison and sighed resignedly.

Tom’s ears folded back in guilt, It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the musician was cursed by the failed ritual HE played a giant part in. As strongly as he disliked the musician, it didn’t feel right to leave him like this; alone, scared, and immobile in a place that could even spell out his death if he was unlucky enough.

He walked over to the other side of the pool and laid down beside the edge of it.

“Hey, you don’t need water to breathe, right?”

The siren looked confused.

“I’ve been breathing air just fine, in fact, I think one of the few advantages to this new body is that it replaced my old lungs with healthier ones. Why are you asking?”

“Climb on my back and I’ll take you out of here, granted, I don’t know where we’re gonna go, but where ever it is, it’ll be better than sitting around waiting for your pool to dry up.”

The merman, while hesitant, did climb up on the wolf man’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck to keep him from falling off, the wolf stood up and ran deeper into the woods.

[tyunniverse]

TXT x DISNEY Halloween Shorts 🎃 (4/5)

pairing: ot5 x reader

genre: fluff, crack, college au

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: there's a halloween event at your uni and a few students are in the mood for misfit.

yeonjun | soobin | beomgyu | taehyun | hueningkai

TAEHYUN | Sleeping Beauty (2.5k)

The sky had turned dark, not a single star in sight, covered by ominous looking clouds that helped set the atmosphere for tonight's grandeur. Sunset came about an hour ago. Everyone was scattered around enjoying the festivities, trying out different booths and events that were held by the different departments. But Taehyun wanted none of that.

The bags under his eyes and the ever present frown on his face made it obvious enough. He'd been working his ass off for days for their department's event— delegating tasks, going back and forth for supplies, decorating their venue, advertising, assisting a few students with their script— Taehyun could go on and on. He looks up at the venue from where he sat, frowning as he reads the sign he made and put up at the entrance: FRIGHT MANSION. He wasn't too fond of the name but everyone else thought otherwise.

The walls of the building had aged with time, sporting numerous cracks and holes. Amateur graffiti lined the entrance up until the doors that were previously barred shut. Taehyun figured there was probably more at the back but didn't care much to actually check. Moss and overgrown weed poked out of the ground, adding to the dilapidated building's charm. The place had a reputation of being haunted but Taehyun never believed in that, but it did turn out to be quite the efficient marketing scheme, drawing in daring students like moths to a flame. He'd wondered whose brilliant idea it was to get permission to use the old Nursing Department building. Oh, right. It was his.

The old wooden bench creaks as Taehyun lies down, propping his head up his backpack that he'd turn into a makeshift pillow. The leaves above his head sway with the breeze. The rustling of the trees made the chattering and screams from the inside almost inaudible. Almost.

Taehyun made full use of the bench that's situated farthest from the venue, taking the time to get some well-deserved shuteye before someone comes and ruins his beauty sleep over something stupid like someone's costume catching fire. The thought rings in his mind, the likelihood of that scenario was far too plausible for his liking. His eyes flutter shut, shuffling from side to side to find a better sleeping position before settling on the one he first had earlier.

A strong breeze sneaks up on Taehyun, making him wrap his arms around himself as he shivered. He recalls fumbling to wear anything he got his hands on before rushing back to school. A little thought would've been nice while putting on his outfit, by then he would've settled on a few layers of clothing rather than a simple loose sweater. Another blow of a breeze makes him frown.

No matter. He's slept under worse conditions.

"Sure is cold tonight, huh." You say, adjusting the box of glitter containers in your hands as you rush to catch up with your friend, Yugyeom, who was carrying less than you were. You curse the difference in length between your legs and his— Yugyeom's being longer than yours, allowing him to take larger steps. It didn't help that he was a fast walker too.

"Yup, sure is." He says, sparing you a glance. "Which is why we should hurry this up. I don't want to get scolded twice for being late with the delivery because of your tiny legs." And with a snort, he speeds up. You roll your eyes.

The crunching sound of dead leaves beneath your feet alerts the two of you that you're nearing the old Nursing Department building. A cool breeze rolls in, somehow cooler now that you were in an area with lots of trees. You've been here before, once, with Yugyeom. It was for a stupid college party dare he'd made with his friends, and he forced you to come with.

The two of you pass the wide opening, the path towards the building showing up in your peripheral vision. From where you were, you could see the brught graffiti plastered around the walls. A quick scan and you spot the one Yugyeom had made for the dare— a simple sign saying: GYEOM WAS HERE, huge enough for his friends to spot from afar the next day to see if he really did it.

You chuckle, remembering how dumb he looked when he accidentally sprayed some paint over his shirt. "Hey, Yugyeom, remember when—" A stronger breeze blows by before you could finish, whipping your hair in front of your eyes. This wouldn't have been a problem if your hands were free to remove the obstacle from your face.

"Shit." You curse under your breath when you stumble against something hard. You feel a little light-headed as your feet move to regain your balance, unfortunately the attempt doesn't do much for you as the contents of the box spills, the containers of glitter rolling away from you faster than you could catch up to Yugyeom. Speaking of your friend.

"Yugyeom, wait!" You let the empty box fall, your hands rushing up to brush the hair out of your face as you whipped around. The familiar clown outfit you'd been following since the beginning of the night was long gone. You almost felt a little betrayed if you hadn't remembered how he got chewed out the last time he was late because of you. "You're not even gonna help me pick these up?!" You yell, hands slowly rubbing against each other to combat the cold wind. As you expected, you're greeted with silence. Well, almost silence. You jump as you hear a blood-curdling scream coming from inside the building, your balled fists immediately shooting up in self defense. Not like it mattered. Punching a ghost in the face didn't seem possible in the first place.

The rustling trees greet you as you slowly flutter your eyes open, taking the time to adjust to the darkness before you can start to make out the form of the building, and on the second floor, light. You breathe a sigh of relief, a smile forming on your face as you remembered that there was a Haunted house event going on right here and now. Definitely made the place seem a lot less creepy, you thought.

A few sparkling dusts in the air catches your attention and you're immediately brought back to reality— the harsh reality of you getting yelled at by a fuming Jinyoung when he finds out that half of the glitter he had you buy was now spread all over the mossy landscape of an abandoned building rather than the cute little treat shop your class had worked hard to build. Yeah, good luck to you.

You feel the grass prick against your knees as you bent down to pick up the containers that still had most of their glitter on, taking two trips from where they spilled to the box that you'd left behind at the opening. There was no way you'd start carrying that thing around while you cleaned up. If any of the glitter spills again, you wouldn't know what to do. Well, you would, but it would be too much of a hassle to clean up after yourself all over again.

Lastly, you settle for the piles of glitter scattered around the area. Some were spread around in bundles, some were tedious to scoop up since they were scattered too far apart, and some were sticking to the moss and mud, to which you've decided to leave alone. You've never had a good relationship with moss and you tried your best to keep your hands and feet away from it as much as possible. Just the thought of feeling the nasty thing with your own hands had your skin crawl. So that's that, no touching glitter covered moss for tonight.

You continue your endeavors, following the sparkling trail until it led you to one if the benches. Specifically, the person lying down on the said bench. Even more specific, that person's face— his face that's covered with a pile glitter.

Another breeze comes swooping in and hold your hands close together. Your eyes widen when the pile of glitter that was resting comfortably on his cheek was now spread throughout his face. At this point, trying to get the glitter back wasn't even an option. You frown, crouching down to take a closer look at your poor accidental victim.

His hair was sticking out on different angles, his lips dry from the cold, his outfit loose and thin, completely inappropriate for the weather and arguably the spirit of Halloween. You couldn't help but compare your matching clown costume with Yugyeom to this guy's sorry excuse of a Halloween getup. But upon closer inspection, you recognize who this was.

You didn't know his name, just that he was the one in charge of the Haunted house event going on behind you. You'd run into him a couple of times while purchasing supplies downtown. He looked even more tired after each encounter. Looking at his peaceful resting face and how underdressed he was, you figured he must've reached his limit. He was tired, understandably so, and you just spilled glitter over his face. He wasn't going to be happy when he wakes up and gets some of this stuff in his eyes.

Another gust of wind blows past you and an idea sparks in your head. "Just gotta be careful."

There's a tingling sensation on Taehyun's face and it's certainly not welcome. For one, it broke his beauty nap. And two, there is no number two— irritation taking over his mind as he finds himself shifting his full focus on number one. At first, he decides to ignore it, trying to go back to sleep despite the uncomfortable feeling on his face. But then he notices something strange.

He tries his best to stay still, refusing to move and open his eyes. He realizes that the tingling sensation was quite similar to the breeze that kept passing by, except that it's smaller and somehow warm? He couldn't really explain. He just knows that it's uncomfortable and roaming all over his face. And that's when it hits him.

This place was rumored to be haunted.

Goosebumps spread all over his body. The sensation almost felt like there's someone breathing on his face. No, not breathing. Something stronger. The thought alone was enough for Taehyun's eyes to shoot open, quickly prompting him to get up until halfway, his lips brush against something soft and warm.

"HOLY SHIT." was the first thing he heard after being pushed back down on the bench.

His body stiffens, completely stunned. And he wasn't the only one. In front of him was a complete stranger in an unflattering clown suit, staring back at him with equal shock and terror as their hands cupped their mouth. Taehyun isn't quite sure, but he swore he saw a pink blush spread across your cheeks.

He eyes how your hands are still covering half of your face, slightly shaking. A breeze passes by, seemingly reminding you two that it was the main villain for tonight. Taehyun shivers in the cold and is then briefly reminded of the sensation earlier, a warm blowing. "You," He looks up at you, a concerned look on his face. "Why are you here? What were you doing to me earlier?"

"GLITTER." You scramble to your knees, trying to gather any left over glitter from before to show as proof. Managing to get a few, you quickly hold it up to his face. "I— well, you see. Glitter. Yes, glitter." You wanted to slap yourself for failing to be coherent during the time you needed it most. "I accidentally spilled glitter all over the place and some happened to land on your face so, yeah, I don't really know why I even did it in the first place but yeah.. I started blowing on your face to get the glitter off and— oh!" You grin once you realized that his face was now glitter free, well, except for his lips. "Looks like it worked out fine anyway."

Taehyun couldn't help but look at you as if you were crazy. Here you were dressed up as a clown and reacting to your own explanation. He sighs, the bench creaking when he moves to sit up properly. "So, you were behind that weird sensation on my face earlier?"

"Weird sensation?" Your brows raise. "Oh, the blowing? Pretty much, yeah."

"And the soft feeling.." Taehyun stops himself after piecing things together. His hand shoots up to his lips on instinct, his cheeks flushed as he watched you slowly stand up. "Did we?"

"Yeah."

"When I—"

"When you tried getting up."

The leaves rustle and one falls off its branch and lands straight on Taehyun's head. He brushes it off. "Sorry for that."

"No, no! I should be the one saying sorry. I accidentally spilled glitter all over you and even ruined your sleep. Your reaction was totally normal and it just happened coincidentally."

Taehyun could only nod. He had to admit, his mind wasn't 100% present at the moment but he could at least process what had just happened. He looks down, noticing the containers of glitter by your side. "Do you still need help?"

"With that?"

"Gathering the glitter."

"Oh, no. I'm actually done."

"Well, then what d—"

"Taehyun!"

Both of your attention shifts towards one of the windows on the second floor. There, a group of students were frantically waiving at Taehyun. He could sense it. The panic in their movements, how some of the staff were running around aimlessly in the hallway— he'd predicted it all earlier. He just thought nobody was careless enough to actually set their costume on fire in a venue that's only filled with fake candles, but they keep proving him wrong.

"I think they need you." You say, feeling sorry that he had to go back to his duties after everything that went on.

"More than I need them." Taehyun sighs, getting up from his seat. He doesn't bother to pack up his belongings, merely stretching out his body before turning back to you. He notices your eyes on his bag and he reassures you that no one's going to want to approach a shady looking bag in front of a creepy building at night. At least, not while he's around.

"Sorry again." You say as he slowly made his way to the building. "I'll make it up to you somehow."

Taehyun pauses. "What's the glitter for?"

"Oh, it's for our Halloween treat shop."

You blink as Taehyun turns to face you. You half expected him to smile or something, but he only continued to look at you with the same tired eyes from earlier. "If you want to make it up to me for ruining my sleep, then wait for me here."

"Huh?"

"We'll go to your little shop together once I'm done." He says, now smiling. "And you're going to treat me to everything I want."

[shegoesbyarose]

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒆 ⟨𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑘.⟩

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Some angst and intense scenes

Song Inspo: You’ll Ask For Me by Tyler Hilton

A/N: Lemme know what you think. I have two specific scenes for this pairing in my head. Not much more after that. This is a “whim” fic. OC is a WOC. 

❖❖❖

“Do you really live on a plane?”

Artemis smiled as she tucked the brown carry-on into the overhead bin. If only she had a dime for every time she received that question.

Securing the bin, she placed a hand on her hip and wiggled her brows. “Maybe.

His green eyes widened. “Do you have your own room? I share mine with my brother.”

She feigned surprise. “You do?”

“Uh huh.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have a brother?”

She paused and smiled. “I do. He’s around your age, actually.”

“Really? What’s his name? Does he like Pokemon?”

Artemis chuckled. Kids and their litany of questions, not to mention the constant bouncing back and forth between topics.

“His name is Kalep,” she answered, bending down to tap his nose. “And he loves Pokemon.”

“Awesome,” Bailey smiled, revealing the gap between his two front teeth.

Lana walked over and placed her hand on Artemis shoulder. “Bailey, just when I thought we were gonna be best buds. You switching out on me?”

Bailey grinned. “I like a lot of buddies.”

Lana and Artemis shared an amused look.

“You heard him. Stop being selfish,” Artemis taunted. “Be right back.” She moved down the aisle, answering a few questions here and there.

Artemis then moved onto checking the overhead bins. Rest assured, a couple would be incorrectly shut. As she reached for the third bin that needed to be properly secured, she first glanced down to notice that the passenger was being over, digging in a bag.

As she finished closing it and looked back down, she met striking azure eyes crystallized between black, thick rimmed glasses, and a warm smile.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

She returned his grin. “First time flying?”

“You could say that.” He chuckled. “That obvious?”

“Naw.” She shrugged. “I’m just pretty good at reading people, and you, sir, have the look of someone who’s never been privy to being 30,000 feet in the air. You’re in for a treat.”

“Well, thank you, ma’am—”

“Oh god, please don’t. Artemis, my name is Artemis.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Artemis. I’m Clark. Clark Kent.”

Her grin diminished as a flyer placed his hand on the small of her back, quickly shifting it downward to her ass. He gave a light squeeze before continuing his walk to his seat.

She retained an eye roll and resurfaced her grin, even as Clark’s dimmed.

“Nice meeting you too, Clark.”

“I’m sorry.” She paused, confused. He looked surprised too, only for a second. “The overhead bin,” he quickly added.

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “It’s the least of my problems.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmured.

“Let me know if you need anything—”

“Artemis!” Bailey stood on the seat, leaned over so he was grasping at the passenger in front of him headrest. She looked back at Clark. “Or any of us.”

He nodded. “Will do.”

That was the first time they met.

The second time would be under similar but very different circumstances.

❖❖❖

Artemis was a ready reserve for Lana who was set to fly a special first time joint venture with the air force. Artemis didn’t mind. Lana had a family emergency, and they were friends. That’s what friends are for.

The speaker was a bit of a bitch, but that didn’t bother Artemis. She’d come across so many different types of individuals, some nice, some not so much. It never mattered, though, as long as she got her paycheck.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Even with the kids on board. She didn’t quite understand why in the hell they had minors on board, but not many things made sense to her when it came to Metropolis.

She was chatting with one of said kids who was fascinated by her name. Apparently, it was the same as one of his favorite characters from some book series. She prepared to ask which one when everything went dark.

Artemis looked around. She’d been trained to respond to countless scenarios, but this was different. She quickly excused herself and stood up, moving down the aisle to correspond with the other attendants.

She knew something was wrong. Hell, she could feel it. This was something that just oozed of malfunction. That much was obvious. However, she felt all of the young, frightened eyes on her. Even though she was concerned, she refused to show it. She had to remain calm, not incite panic among the kids.

Artemis helped  children get strapped in. At one point during the flight, they were all secured and yapping among themselves. Somewhere between the taxi and takeoff, they maneuvered out of their seats and moved about.

However, that plan went to hell at the same time the power went out again, and this time, it didn’t come back on shortly after. No, conditions quickly deteriorated. One minute she was helping the children secure their seatbelts, and the next, she was holding them against her body as the plane began to violently jerk.

In the event of turbulence, there was training. There was training for everything, but the fact that she just knew that this was beyond turbulence didn’t help. Still, she managed to keep her emotions at bay. Better than the other attendants who failed to hide their concern.

They too realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

And it only continued to worsen. Infrequent jerking transitioned into abnormal shifts in directions. The plane was moving about like a rag doll, simultaneously, forcing Artemis around and against various seats, walls, and armrests. She bit back her groans and moans of pain.

Help now.

Feel later.

Screams, shouts, beeping, and all sorts of chaos occurred around her. Still, she remained calm. In the kids, she saw Kalep. What if he were there? She’d want whoever was in charge to help him remain as calm as possible, no matter how grim the outcome appeared.

But, things only exacerbated.

The plane was angled almost entirely upward, and Artemis felt the absolute brunt of the trajectory as she continued to be tossed about the plane. Her shoulder was dislocated and the red liquid coating her fingertips after feeling on her abdomen told her that her injuries were becoming more severe by the minute, second, even.

Still, she couldn’t shake the terrified expressions of the children whose cries only increased in volume and intensity.

Even the adults were becoming choked up.

It was utter madness and chaos beyond comprehension.

For a second, she contemplated the most dire and maybe realistic outcome.

Is this how she would meet her maker? Thousands of feet up in the air, bloodied and battered, completely helpless to do nothing but make everyone as comfortable as she possibly could given the circumstances.

When was the last time she FaceTime’d her family? Purchased Kalep a game off of the Playstation Store?

Hell, she hadn’t seen the inside of her apartment for almost a month.

And now, she never would.

It was all a culmination of feelings and thoughts. Regrets at what could have been. Sadness at what would never be. Anger at the finality of it all.

Death.

And then a thought, if this truly was the end, did it mean the beginning of something else? A reunion she’d longed for for over a decade?

If only she knew it would happen like this.

Her eyes slammed shut as wetness pooled and spilled. Consciousness was a battle she was gradually losing.

But nothing had ever come easy, nothing that she really wanted, anyway.

She would hold on as long as she possibly could, as long as was possible.

And she’d spend the last of her energy making the children as comfortable as she could, even if it was only a fragment of comfort.

Plastered against the back of the plane, Artemis turned to the window. Everything was whipping by with such abnormal speed, red heat and flames of the fire lashing against the side of the plane.

She didn’t even want to imagine what the outside looked like, given the bedlam transpiring inside.

But what did still her was the quick flash of something that came and disappeared in under a second.

It was far too large to be a bird, much smaller than a plane, but the speed at which it moved…… It was almost beyond human comprehension.

I think hallucinations are a sign of pending death.

A macabre thought, but not entirely inappropriate.

Her eyes fluttered moments before her body dropped, moving in an unnatural manner. At that point, she’d managed to block out the searing pain that traveled through her body. What point was there in trying to address something she couldn’t fix?

It was meritless and a waste of time.

And energy.

The ability to remain coherent enough to guesstimate just how much time they had left waned with each struggle to keep her eyes fully open. Even when they were opened, she kept looking toward the children. As if she could will them to meet her gaze. Maybe then she could try to assure them that they were going to be okay.

She took a deep swallow.

That was such a lie, but she’d rather their last minutes be filled with hope, even if it was an empty box.

They didn’t need to know that.

As her body dropped to the ground, she took a sharp breath and managed to flex her fingers. They seemed to be the only thing she could use.

Voices called her name. She briefly recognized them as belonging to the attendants.

She lifted her head and saw black shoes and sheer stockings covering tan skin moving closer.

She moaned. “I’m f—fine.” Something caught up, and Artemis choked up something. She blinked. Red. Blood. “Kids. H—h—help them.”

The walking ceased. “Art—”

“No,” she growled, fisting her hand against the ground. Seconds later, she was shifted again, thrown forward, her head colliding with something hard. She blinked several times. Her vision was good and hazy. Artemis was almost certain that she was seeing duplicates.

The descent was steady this time, downward, and fast.

Every breath felt struggled against the invisible weight of the trauma that suffocated her body. Her fingers flexed and wiggled. If only she could bring her arm into her body.

The chain around her neck, the tiny cross that hung tucked into her blouse. Not that it would do anything to help her, physically.

But the emotional comfort, the connection is reminded her of, it would dim everything.

So she attempted to pull her arm inward, a burning shooting through that immediately ceased all movement.

So much for that.

That was when the tears continued. One could only remain strong for so long.

And just like that, everything stopped.

The movement, at least.

Everything was so still.

Too still.

Was this it? Was this how it was? A noticeable void of everything that being alive represented.

It was……subpar. Far from what she’d always imagined the afterward would be.

Halfway unconscious, Artemis missed the noticeable gasps and harsh whispers that spread through the plane as the door was easily ripped and tossed aside.

The question of if everyone was alright followed by heavy footsteps and a shadowed darkness that covered her back.

Hands moved to her side, gently turning her on her back. She gasped violently, becoming somewhat aware of her surroundings.

Eyes. Warm yet cool eyes bore into hers. However, her involuntary reaction was to fight. She struggled, mustering as much strength as she could, attempting to push the person away.

Then she heard it, the quiet whisper of her name.

“Artemis.” She stilled and tried to focus her vision. Everything was just so foggy. “It’s alright.” Artemis continued to moan and groan, determined to fight, so he continued to reassure that it was fine.

But, it wasn’t.

She was dead.

……Wasn’t she?

Artemis calmed herself down enough to stop moving. The stranger took that moment to speak again.

“You’re hemorrhaging internally, and If I don’t cauterize this bleed…..” He trailed off. If Artemis was in the right frame of mind, she would have cursed him. That certainly wasn’t the extent of her injuries. She didn’t like being lied to.

Her brows furrowed. How. Who. What.

All unasked questions he somehow detected.

“I can do things that other people can’t.” She shut her eyes and gasped. If breathing was difficult now, it was unbearable now. “Hold my hand.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, placing his over hers. She calmed down, ever so slightly. “This is gonna hurt.”

It wasn’t as though she was any position to speak, and even if she did, the scream that left her mouth seconds later spoke volumes more than any word could.

To her credit, the pain only lasted for a few moments, having lost the battle to consciousness.

❖❖❖

Hospitals sucked.

Of that, Artemis was 10000% sure of, to the point where she was prepared to defend it to the very end.

Every wall, floor, building, everything about it reeked of death. If not for you, for someone you knew.

Rarely anything good came from visiting one, let alone being admitted. Sadly, that was the case for her.

She’d been stuck at Metro General for over a week, and each day brought her that much closer to seeing if she could make a break for it.

Even though, deep down, she knew that was ridiculous.

She’d been significantly injured. Artemis lost count of how many times she was told that she was lucky to be alive.

More than she’d like to count.

Really, the fact that there were no other fatalities was enough for her. Sure, there were injuries, but nothing as severe as hers. From her knowledge, she was the only one still being held hostage.

And even if the hospital itself wasn’t bad enough, the damn people were just as bad.

Maybe not the doctors and nurses, and the staff. She admired them.

No, the damn people who visited her every hour on the hour, she felt like.

Lana had been at her beside from the moment she was rushed into the OR.

Guilt, she figured.

Artemis focused her gaze on the vase of flowers on the side of the bed. They were different from the one’s she received just this morning. However, the change wasn’t what circulated her mind.

No, it was the reason she was still alive.

Him. Her rescuer. She barely remembered what occurred, but she distinctly recalled his eyes, the way he looked at her, her name on his mouth.

Who was he? What was he?

She’d first thought she’d been dreaming. How could another person do what he’d done?

Flew up into the sky and separated a damn shuttle from a plane, stopped the plane from crashing, cauterized her wound, flew her to the hospital, and who knew what else.It was all too unreal, impossible to be reality.

But everyone else had saw him.

And Artemis heard him.

Whoever, whatever, he was, he knew her name.

And he’d saved her.

She was alive because of him.

For that…..she was beyond thankful. Still very much confused, but thankful.

Unfortunately, the world was also confused, and as the only person to have such direct contact with him, she was highly sought out.

Not to mention, everyone was praising her for being so “heroic.” Whatever that meant.

Reaching over the bed, she grabbed the card and flipped it over to see two letters followed by periods. Initials.

C.K.

Artemis frowned. Who?

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She prepared to give the same scripted reply to the nurse on duty. She then paused as she was met with the same warm smile she’d first encountered a few weeks ago.

She leaned back against the pillows and paused. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stood in the doorway. “Is it alright—”

“Oh, yeah,” she waved him in, sitting up as much as she could. Her eyes then fell on the bouquet in his right hand. “Please tell me those aren’t for me.”

He squinted. “What happens if I say yes?”

“Add em’ to the rest,” she sighed and smiled. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I just don’t know if I’m going to have any room in my apartment if I receive anymore.” He handed them to her. She sniffed and closed her eyes. Lillies. Her favorites.

“Clark, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” She leaned and placed them on the remaining free space oo her side table. They were smaller than some of the others, but she wanted them to be the closest to her.

“I’d ask you how you’re doing but—”

“I’m sick of hearing that question,” she finished for him with a small smile. “How did you—you’re a reporter.” The bag on his shoulder, the almost embarrassed expression when she said it, it was obvious.

She prepared to send him away as she did the rest, but there was something different about him. Something genuine.

Artemis was willing to give him something. Not much.

“Look, all I know is that I owe him my life. Me and everyone else on that plane. I don’t know anything else.”

Clark crossed his arms. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s what you’re here for, right? The mystery hero?”

“Not my story.” He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “I’m actually here for you.”

She stilled. “Oh.” Well, that was unexpected.

“I work for the Daily Planet. We’d like to do a story on you. The mystery hero wasn’t the only one who saved lives. They say a lot of those kids are alive because of you.”

She shrugged. “I just did what anyone else would have done.”

“Not everyone.” He frowned.

Artemis picked at the hospital bedding. “You have any siblings, Clark?” He shook his head. “I do. Two. My brother’s name is Kalep. He’s ten. The sweetest and most annoying kid ever.” She smiled softly, remembering his big brown eyes in the FaceTime camera as Artemis reassured her father that he didn’t need to fly down.

Unnecessary money.

“Did you know that the youngest kid on that flight was eight?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Eight-years old. Hell, you haven’t even started to live when you’re eight. I can’t imagine it all ending so soon. I’ve seen enough of this world. I would have been okay. No matter what happened.” She looked out the window and licked her lips before looking back at him. “I wouldn’t change anything I did. Not a damn thing.”

Clark said nothing, chuckling softly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am doing the story on the hero.” A beat. “But she’s not a mystery.”

Artemis caught his gaze. There was something both familiar and comforting about him. She couldn’t place her finger on it, though.

“Okay, they sure do know who to send to get a story.” She shifted again. These beds were so damn uncomfortable. “I do hope they find him, though. He deserves it. I won’t even bitch if they throw him a parade or some shit. It’s well deserved.”

They both laughed as Artemis looked down, nodding slowly. “I just want to thank him, you know.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Of him?” She laughed. “No. Why would I be?”

“I mean, a guy who can fly. You don’t see them everyday.”

“There are a lot of things to be scared of in this world, Clark.” A beat. “He’s not one of them.”

❖❖❖

Artemis had never been so grateful to be home.

It was one thing to be away because of work. It was another to be away because she was physically unable to be home.

Thankfully, she’d been cleared and discharged. That was a few days ago, but each moment was more than appreciated.

She’d dusted, rearranged, hell, even cooked more than she had in all the time she’d been in Metropolis. Even whilst ambling around in a boot on her right leg.

Near death experiences tend to have that effect.

Not one for much television, she’d even started to rewatch One Tree Hill and was halfway through Homecoming. However, too much time in front of the screen triggered headaches, so she decided to switch out programming for a book on her wall of books.

She had so many that she’d purchased, started, yet never finished.

One of her new resolutions was to change that.

She loved to read.

It was one of the many fond memories she had. Being read to as she lay in bed, forcing herself just to stay up because no one told stories in such distinct voices as her.

Artemis settled on The Chaos of Standing Still. She noticed a bookmark toward the beginning and pulled it out. She could barely remember the plot, let alone the little that she’d read.

She scratched at her hair and made a mental note to order the bonnets that were waiting in her Amazon cart.

Ooh, she also needed to pay her cell phone bill. Maybe automatic payments weren’t so bad, because if she garnered one more goddamn late fee—

Artemis turned around and nearly fell flat on her ass. Thankfully, the book took one for the team, stumbling on her carpet. The bookmark laid next to it.

Across her room, close to the backdoor that led to the small balcony, he stood, cape lightly flowing behind him. The lighting was dimmed, but even with the lack of illumination, he stood out in the darkness. Representative of who he was, whoever that was.

“Umm, hi,” she blurted, placing her hand on her forehead. “How did you—” Her eyes shifted to the backdoor. “Never mind. Stupid question.” She got the feeling that whether she welcomed him in or not, it made little to no difference.

“Hi.” She waited for more. Nothing else came.

“Can I—get you something to drink?” She asked. “Do you even drink?” Artemis wanted to slap herself. What the hell was wrong with her? Since when did she get so easily flustered?

Maybe that was another side effect of almost dying.

“I do.” He smiled and stepped forward. She remained where she was. “But, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “How—why—what are you doing here?”

“I read the interview you gave.”

“You read?” She blurted.

He shrugged. “In my free time.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “For—for saving me, and everyone else.”

He lifted his a hand. “Don’t. You never have to thank me for that. No one does.”

She tilted her head. “What are you?” She continued. “I mean, you’re not human. I dated my high school’s quarterback, and we were all impressed by his ability to push his truck. Yet, you’re out here lifting planes?” She hadn’t meant to babble. It wasn’t in her nature, but she was so damn intrigued. Not to mention, everyone had been searching for the man who stood a few feet away from her, only for him to find her.

“What I am isn’t important. It’s what I do….that’s what matters.”

“What exactly is it that you do? Save people? There are occupations for that.”

He chuckled. “I think we both know it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Touche,” she whispered and danced her fingers against her legs. Artemis looked him over. He was solid, muscles rippling against the formfitting material of his….uniform? Costume seemed inappropriate. Costumes were for people who feigned what he really was. A hero. “What’s the S stand for?”

He looked down and then back up. “It’s not an S. On my world, it means hope.”

She bit on her bottom lip. Artemis wanted to ask him where exactly his world was, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t answer. “Well, here, it’s just an S.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

Her next question was instant. “What’s your name?” He stared at her. Artemis kept his gaze, willing herself to affirm her assertiveness. She was never one to shy away, to back down, to retreat. That couldn’t change. Not even for him. “You know mine.”

His gaze softened, something that didn’t bypass Artemis.

“It’s Kal.”

“Kal,” she repeated, accentuating each letter, despite the shortness. Artemis smiled. “My little brother’s name is Kalep.” She cleared her throat. “So am I your first or last stop?”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You know, on your grand entrance to the world.”

He offered a small smile. “No. What I do….who I am….it’s not of importance.” A beat. “I’m not yet ready to reveal myself to the world.”

She quieted. “But you did with me, and I’m nobody special.”

“I wouldn’t say that. To those kids you saved, the ones you risked your life for, you’re the hero.”

She straightened one arm and grabbed her elbow, shrugging. “The cape takes the cake. Kids are fickle like that. Besides, I just did what was right. No need to make a big thing out of it.”

He nodded slowly, stepping forward. Artemis inhaled subtly. He was so big. “And that’s why I’ve told you….and only you.”

His voice lowered toward the end of his sentence as his gaze focused on her, meeting her eyes. At that moment, she understood. She didn’t know why or how, but he trusted her. Kal trusted her.

“Got it.” A beat. “Okay, I just have to ask. Is this like a disguise? I mean, your….skin….” His eyes crinkled in amusement, tiny lines forming. “You’re not really….like green or something, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, good, cause then that would be really….weird.”

His smile deepened. “You have a good night, Artemis.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “You too, Kal.”

He nodded and prepared to leave.

“Hey, Kal.” He turned to face her, eyebrows lifted. “I—uh—I’m out of work for a while. Recovery and all. So, um, if you ever want. I mean, if you’re ever around.” She pushed her lips together and pushed a hand over her curls. “I’m just here.”

He said nothing, just a smile, and a second later, he was gone.

[kpopgirl1234bl]

Hello honey, here i'm again with my Kuroshitsuji escenarios ahaha, can you write a scenario where y/n is ill and have a horrible fever. Ciel is so worried and then discover that there is a supposed curse in her family where all die young for a strange disease, and everybody worries including Sebastian, but it ends with that she just has a flu? Sorry if is too much, you can make it angst or funny or whatever you want, thanks honey 💙💙💙

It's not too much, I actually like how specific you are. It makes the writing process a lot easier for me.

I also took inspiration from myself. I had a really bad case if the flu a few years back and it was torture.

It's not fun being sick, and I think we can all agree on that.

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

Summary: when you suddenly get sick, you fear the worst and decide to tell Ciel about your family's curse.

Pairing: Ciel Phantomhive x fem!reader

Words: 1,069

Warning: maybe a little angsty

Request: yes

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

You had felt funny all day, but you didn't know what was going on. Throughout the day, it only kept getting worse and worse.

It was in the middle of the day you felt worse. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You were leaning against the wall, your vision getting worse.

You collapsed onto the ground, still heaving after the air. Your vision became even more blurry. Right before you passed out, you saw someone round the corner you didn't know who, but you needed help.

"Help...Me." You whispered before passing out from exhaustion.

It just so happened to be Finnian, who came from the corner. When he saw you on the ground, he knew something was very wrong.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Finnian shook you, trying to wake you up. Finnian didn't know what to do, so he picked you up and ran towards the kitchen, the last place he saw Sebastian.

Finnian burst into the kitchen, where he saw Sebastian preparing something, probably for the young lord.

Sebastian turned towards whoever burst into the kitchen so carelessly. But when he saw Finnian with you passed out in his arms, his eyes widen.

"Sebastian! I found Y/N passed out in the hallway. She's breathing heavily, and her face is warm!" Finnian shouted, panicked out of his mind.

Sebastian rushed over and put his hand on your forehead and immediately felt your body temperature.

Sebastian took you into his arms and rushed to your and Ciel's bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and carefully started to shed some of your clothes off.

In the meantime, Finnian had found Ciel in his office and informed Ciel what had happened.

Everything stopped for Ciel. He looked up at Finnian, who was breathing heavily from running.

"Where is she! Tell me!" Ciel shouted as he stood up.

"She's in the bedroom, Sebastian is taking care of her," Finnian told him, and before Finnian could say any more, Ciel was already on his way to you.

"Y/N!" Ciel burst into your shared bedroom and looked towards the bed. He rushed over to you and took your hand into his.

"My Lord, it seems like Lady Y/N has a high fever and have trouble breathing," Sebastian informed Ciel.

"Don't just stand there! Do something!" Ciel shouted at Sebastian.

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastian said and left the room to retrieve supplies. Ciel looked over at you and gripped your hand tighter.

"Y/N, please. Be okay..." Ciel whispered and placed his lips against your hand.

Soon Sebastian came back with a bowl with cold water and a small towel. He wet the small towel and placed it on your forehead to help you cool down. There wasn't much they could do since you were unconscious.

You woke up a few hours after. You felt something cold and moved your hand to remove it.

"Y/N! You're awake!" You heard the familiar voice of your lover, Ciel.

"Ciel? What happened?" you asked him.

" You passed out, luckily Finnian found you. You still have a high fever, but at least your breathing seems to be orderly again, that's good." Ciel told you. When he informed you that, you felt your eyes well up with tears.

"Y-Y/N? What's wrong, What's happening?!" Ciel asked you.

"I'm sorry, Ciel, I should've told you sooner." You said, tears falling your cheeks.

"Told me what?" Ciel asked you.

"There's a curse in my family. Everyone in my family dies at a young age from a seemingly unharmful thing." You cried and held his hand even tighter.

Ciel looked at you, his eyes widen. He felt like his whole world just collapsed right in front of him.

"We don't know why, what, or when it will come for us." You explained to him.

"At the start, it seems like the common cold or something else that's not harmful. But before we know it, it has claimed another family member." You continued.

Ciel didn't know how to respond. It was like his whole world shattered into tiny pieces that one could not repair.

Ciel pulled you into his arms and whispered:

"I won't let that happened. I will find a cure I promise you that." You felt tears well up in your eyes again and hugged him tightly.

After talking some more, Ciel told you to get some sleep, and he would come back with some food later.

Ciel stepped out of your room and nearly broke down. He swore on his life that he would find a cure for this strange disease in your family, and save you before it's too late.

Eventually, the word got around about your family's curse. Everyone was worried about it because they knew how much happiness you brought Ciel.

During this time, Ciel never left your side. Any time he could spend with you, he did. He would bring you food, tea, and medicine in hopes you would get better.

After a week, you didn't seem to get any better. Ciel decided to call a doctor.

The doctor finally arrived and was shown the way to the bedroom. The doctor asked Ciel to leave the room, but he was reluctant to do so, but you finally got him to leave the room so the doctor could examine you.

Ciel stood outside your bedroom, waiting for the doctor to call him. It didn't take long before he was called into the room again.

When he stepped into the room, he saw you smiling, and he smiled back at you, but you notice the sadness in his eyes.

"What is it, doctor? Is it bad?" Ciel asked.

"Well, not as bad as you might think. It seems like Miss Y/N here has a bad case of the flu, nothing to worry about." The doctor told Ciel, and you saw the happiness return to his eyes.

"I have given her some medicine. Be sure she takes this medicine after she has eaten something." The doctor explains and handed Ciel a small bottle of medicine.

"Thank you, doctor, and thank you for coming." Ciel thanked the doctor, and Sebastian showed him the way out.

Ciel turned towards you and smiled and hugged you tightly.

"Thank goodness." you heard Ciel whisper. You smiled and hugged him back tightly.

From that day on, he promised himself he would find a cure for you and your family.

And for the future yours and Ciel's children.

[tulip-mom]

Simple Mistakes

It all started out as a simple mission... 

Fairy Tail- Nalu [Angst]

Simple Mistakes

It seems like everything Natsu and his team faced starts off with a simple, innocent mission. It was a regular old day at the guild, a sunny July morning, and they took a job earlier that week. Team Natsu had set off for the mission via train earlier that day, much to Natsu's dismay. Once they arrived at the small town of West Zeld, the team got briefed by the Mayor. After they dropped their luggage off at a local hotel, they set off for the Dark Guild's last known location, in the forest.

They were going up against a rather large dark guild, even though they've been active for less than a year. The guild was called "Nightmares of the Hidden", and they didn't have much information on the guild, and it's strongest members. They were going in blind this mission, sadly. By the Mayor's debrief, it was run by a man named Ethel Umbra, who had started this guild less than a year ago, and have been kidnapping people from the local towns, and keeping them hostage.

Lucy panted heavily. After getting separated from her team early on, she's been fighting off a lot of dark guild members. She's exhausted the majority of her magic, after summoning Loke, Aries, Taurus, and Gemini in the span of 30 minutes. Though she's not relatively injured by the amount of people she faced, it didn't mean she was not hurting. Her body was covered in bruises and rather large cuts, and her cute new outfit she bought was torn in a few areas. Loke still had his gate open, as he appeared on his own magic, but her ears were ringing slightly from a member's explosion magic. It slightly reminded her of Jackal's magic, from when they fought Tartaros, but she quickly disregarded her thoughts before she got depressed on the battlefield from her losses that day. Just thinking about that entire scenario made her stomach drop in fear.

She was suddenly thrown out of her vision back to those dark times by Loke, who was yelling her name and had to result in shaking her shoulders. He had a look of concern, and worry written all over his face.

“ Lucy, are you alright? “ Loke asked, concerned, also lacing his voice. Lucy just mumbled a reply and peered around the forest. She needed to find her team again, find Natsu. Loke, seeming to read her mind, started to walk her towards the sounds of distant fighting

But this peace hanging over Lucy for a moment was shattered in an instant when Loke was struck from behind, and soon disappeared into a golden light. Lucy- taken aback, had staggered and fallen to the floor. With eyes like she was a deer in the headlights, she turned to face her attacker.

On the opposite side of the battlefield, the fiery Natsu was pummelling dark guild members, left and right. When he had the chance, he’d scan the field, in search of mainly Lucy, as he could see Gray off in the distance fighting alone. He could smell Erza behind him, deeper within the forest surrounding the mansion.

He suddenly saw Lucy, who was still wounded, was running straight for him. Natsu froze, only for a moment, as pure rage filled him. She’s hurt. Now- He was as well, but seeing her, more specifically hurt, killed him inside. It made a rage that burned more violent than anything else. “ Luc- “ As soon as her name was almost off his tongue, he seemed to freeze up. He couldn’t move an inch. His eyes widened in some sort of hidden horror, as he saw Lucy freeze up, just like him. Their eyes connected with each other, as Natsu stared into Lucy’s horror-stricken ones.

A man’s dark and sadistic laugh echoed off the walls of the large mansion beside them. A tall, darkly dressed man, wearing a coat that looked like Laxus’s, came from the treeline and approached the frozen pair. “ It’s amusing to see the horror on peoples’ faces when I freeze them. And to think that someone of Natsu’s caliber be stuck like this, and have such a vulnerable teammate is an opportunity I won’t miss out on... “ He said, as he stood beside Lucy, grabbing a bit of her hair, with that grin of his.

[Warning: Here, Things are gonna get a bit… descriptive. Violence Ahead]

A dark mage from this ‘guild’ came up and presented this man with a weapon. A metal pipe “ Here you are, Sir Umbra. “ This man was the leader of this dark guild, and he was right beside Lucy. Natsu feeblish struggled within this mysterious restraints, as Ethel turned towards Lucy “ Natsu- You got front row tickets to some… entertainment. “ Ethel said, as Natsu tried to call out to Erza, or Gray, but wasn’t able to find his voice. Ethel raised his rod and struck it down on Lucy. A horrifying scream came from Lucy, the spine-chilling kind of scream. She was suddenly released from this hold, and she felt to the ground, with a now broken right leg. He had completely shattered her tibia, and she was sobbing on the ground. Natsu kept trying to struggle- No no! This can’t happen. The one person he swore to protect was being attacked right in front of him and he can’t even move! But Lucy’s next words made him tear up. “Natsu! Help! Please help me!” Lucy begged as Ethel swung the rod down again, a loud and sickening snap echoed in the forest as her left arm was now broken from the impact of the rod. Her screams got louder and until her screams were cut off by a harsh hit to the head.

Natsu was screaming in his head, as he was unable to voice anything. He felt like this was just a bad nightmare, like the ones he’d get from the GMG,

With Lucy, now unmoving on the ground, Natsu believed Ethel would leave her alone, stopping this sickening attack, but he didn’t. Ethel continued to beat her senselessly until he suddenly stopped, discarding the rod to his right.

Ethel looked at his work. Lucy was a bloody mess, bruises, cuts, and mangled limbs. With a small laugh, Ethel walked away, while the harsh breathing came from Lucy. It wasn’t a normal sort of pant, but rather a deep painful wheeze.

The invisible bonds suddenly were gone, and Natsu staggered forward, caught off guard from the suddenness. Natsu caught himself, and ran forward to Lucy, collapsing beside him on his knees. “ Luce! Lucy! “ He cried, his hands hesitating to touch her, as he’s afraid of even touching her. Afraid of hurting his friend even more. His hands shook as he took in her form.

Lucy was beaten very badly. He could see the harsh lumps in her arms and legs where the bones were broken and making the skin poke out more. Her head was bleeding from a few cuts the rod gave her, and her left eye was already swollen shut. She was taking shallow and painful breaths, resulting in this horrifying wheezing

[For Referencing of the Wheezing, I’m picturing the wheezing the Morphling from Hunger Games: Catching Fire, when she saves Peeta from the monkeys (ik ik im very evil)]

“ Luce... Luce, it’s ok! I’m here... You’ll be ok “ He said, his voice shaking as Lucy’s tear-filled eyes were staring directly at him. They both knew deep down, she wasn’t going to make it.

Lucy’s eyes were fading, the light leaving, which reminded him of the time where they saw Future Lucy die, which had his stomach drop. He couldn’t lose Lucy- Not now, not ever!

“ Lucy, Stay with me ok! I-... I’ll find Wendy! An... And you’ll be alright! “ He said, tears now filling his eyes as he looked up and scanned the surrounding area for Wendy, but to no avail. Panic and fear were settling in his bones, as he looked back down to lucy.

no words were exchanged between him and lucy, as she was only trying to hold on for him. but by the time he looked down, he saw her glassy eyes and her far looking gaze. his heart stopped for a moment as he pulled lucy in closer, his mouth hanging ajar a bit.

“ n-no! lucy.. lucy.. oh god.. we still have… so many adventures together… “ he couldn’t hear her heart or her painful breathing. he kept staring down at her, his hands on her face, as he began to feel more tears rush down his face, blurring his view of his precious lucy.

“ i had so much to tell you.. s-so many adventures we had to go on.. no! don’t leave me... please lucy.. please “ his begs fell onto deaf ears, as he kept holding onto his lost lover, and the surrounding sounds were soon drowned out by a deafening silence.

With just one blink, Lucy was suddenly not there. She had disappeared. She was nowhere in sight, as he frantically looked around for his fallen partner. He only was able to spot one person, a few feet away. Ethel fucking Umbra. Ethel was laughing, almost hunched over with how hard he was. “ To see the Salamander from Fairy Tail cry over some blonde bimbo is a sight I never thought I would see! “ Ethel said, before breaking into laughter once more. Natsu, now filled with a dangerous fiery rage, jumped to his feet, and his fists burst into flames. His eyes burning with rage- looking square at Ethel “ Where the hell is she!? Where’s Lucy! “ He demanded, screaming at Ethel. Ethel had his smug smirk remaining on his face, as his laughs died off to Natsu’s screaming

“ It was all an illusion, Natsu. You must’ve thought that was all real! Seeing the one person you swore to protect... Die right in front of you, and you didn’t do anything to protect her… “ He said, smugly.

Natsu felt a rage he’s never had before. With his fists still ablaze, he charged right at Ethel, in a blind rage. Ethel dodged his attacks and suddenly disappeared from in front of him.

Two Ethel’s Stood, with Natsu in the middle of them. But one was different, one was holding a Lucy, who looked as hurt when he saw her at the beginning of the supposed illusion.

Natsu froze up again. Oh god- Not this again. He didn’t know what was real, and what was fake. The Ethel not holding Lucy began to speak. “ You really think you can win against me? You couldn’t even save her future self! “ Ethel said as fear went over him again, making him feel cold.

“ How the hell do you know about her- “ Natsu growled out, but stopped speaking as the Ethel holding Lucy now had his grasp on her neck, as her panic and fear-filled eyes connected with him.

Natsu’s expression hardened, as he turned, and attacked the one who wasn’t holding her. His fists ablaze, attacked the man, as he simply dodged all his attacks.

He soon landed his fists on Ethel, square in the jaw, and heard Lucy’s sudden gasps for air. He quickly had the chance to look back and saw that the Ethel holding her had disappeared.

Relief flooded him. He followed his gut and attacked the one who wasn’t holding his precious teammate, and it turned out to be the ‘real’ Ethel. Natsu didn’t stop his attacks then, but the anger and rage bubbled back, and he viciously attacked the illusion mage.

Punches, kicks, fiery attacks were all thrown at Ethel. He had a hard time dodging when Natsu had that killer intent in his eyes, the burning and seething rage filling him, consuming him. He got Ethel to the ground and showed him no mercy.

After a long and hard battle, Natsu had won the fight. Completely and brutally beating him to a near crisp, but, he was alive. With some urgency, Natsu went up to Lucy and made sure she was alright.

He knew, deep down, he wouldn’t ever forget the horrific sounds Lucy gave off while she died. He hugged her tightly, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. This all reminded him of the incident with Future Lucy, but luckily, it was all an Illusion.

He pulled back, and with his usually cheery grin, looked at Lucy.

“ Let’s go home, Luce. “ He said to her, as Lucy teared up, and nodded. With Natsu’s assistance, was able to stand, and led the pair to the rest of Team Natsu, who were gathering by the front of the Dark Guild’s mansion.

Natsu knew then, Lucy would be okay. Natsu also knew he would never let anything happen to her again. Not on his watch.

[allicekitty13]

Twilight Noir: Chapter 2

Read On Ao3

 Alice narrowed her eyes and took slow, tentative steps toward the voice. She released the hesitant breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding as she laid eyes on a semifamiliar looking face. He was a tall blonde who leaned against the brick wall of one of the buildings that made up the alley, a cigarette burned in his left hand, and a cowboy hat sat atop his head tilted down just slightly covering his presumably red eyes.

She'd seen the man before on a few sparse occasions; despite her brother Emmett's best efforts, it had been no secret to her that he was involved in something secretive. The blonde, whose name she wasn't aware of, had shown up at their home on occasion always to whisk her brother away in the middle of the night. As intrigued as she was, she'd never attempted to question the occurrences, nor had any visions ever crossed her sight that would have cleared anything up. 

Alice had only existed to her knowledge for a little over twenty years; she knew she had to have had a human life before this; unfortunately, she had no recollection of such an existence. While she was beginning to gain a semblance of control over her gift, it was a slowgoing process. Visions tended to come of their own volition; while Alice could force them on occasion, she was only able to see a few hours ahead at most. It wasn't exactly helpful in situations such as the mystery she currently found herself.

Alice stood for a moment in quiet contemplation, attempting to discern how best to address the stranger who had summoned her. "I seem to be at a disadvantage, sir; it appears you know who I am despite my having never met you." She finally greeted.

"It's Jasper, ma'am." He responded calmly with a sly grin.

"Well, Jasper, what is it I can do for you." 

"Emmett's innocent."

"I know."

Jasper's head snapped up at the declaration turning to face her more directly with narrowed eyes. "What exactly did he tell you."

"He won't tell me anything; he actually insisted I stay out of it. Call it a strong intuition or wishful thinking, but I know in my gut he's innocent." She shrugged, indicating the end of her piece when his words dawned on her abruptly. "Why... what do you know." 

"Not here." He glanced around the alley, "They have eyes everywhere; I've been waiting here for you too long."

"Waiting for me? Why are you hiding out in an alleyway waiting for me?"

"There's a diner, come with me, and I'll answer your questions."

She had a multitude of questions to which she wanted answers, particularly any information he may have that would help clear her brother's name. So while she wasn't sure if this man could be trusted, she reluctantly reached for his now outstretched arm, intending to link her own through. However, the second their bodies made contact, a new, unexpected manifestation of her gift took hold of her being.

One of her more prophetic visions crossed her sight, the kind that came without warning, that she couldn't control. These were the visions that took her entirely from the present, threatening to knock her from her feet. It was overwhelming, coming in fast flashes that would have caused her heart to race, were it still able to beat. A wedding, shopping trips, stolen kisses, all involving the strange, suspicious man who stood before her. 

It wasn't as though she'd never thought about Jasper before; he was very attractive. She knew he'd noticed her as well; there were more than a few times she'd caught his eyes lingering on her place hidden in the shadows when he came for Emmett. She always remained hidden when they had a vampiric visitor; Carlisle deemed it safer with a gift such as hers.

The images caused her heart to soften; the idea of such a bright and happy future full of love filled her with glee. Alice was positive she had to have reflected this somehow in her facial expression or body language, but if Jasper had noticed, he didn't let on. 

When she came too, he was looking down at her in concern. She noticed he'd placed a steadying hand gently on her shoulder to help keep her upright. "Everything alright, ma'am?" 

"Yeah," She replied breathlessly as she shook her head to clear the visions. Regaining composure, she looped her arm through his and indicated he direct them to the second location. Romantic fantasies could be dealt with later; if this vision was any indication, they assuredly would be. A vision as strong as what she just saw was nearly impossible to change. Nothing was set in stone; the future was fluid; that much she knew. However, a vision like that was almost likened to fate.

----

The diner was an unassuming dimly lit space; leather booths lined the left side, a long counter on the right had stools peppered alongside the front. There were only a handful of people inside; an older man sat at the counter, staring down at an untouched plate of eggs, there was a couple sat in the far corner booth, and the waitress behind the counter who hardly registered their entrance. It was clear to Alice why Jasper had chosen this location to talk; the people inside seemed to keep to themselves.

He led her to one of the booths in the middle of the row, offering to take her coat before she sat. He'd mumbled something about appearances as he gestured to the surrounding humans when she'd raised an eyebrow in question. They sat in silence as the waitress approached, a tall woman named Betty. Alice ordered a coffee, extra sugar while her companion declined to order anything. 

"What happened to appearances." She questioned with a smirk.

"It's wasteful; we both know neither of us will actually be consuming anything." He went silent again until Betty returned with the coffee, setting it down gently before proceeding to quickly leave the pair alone. 

"Alright," Jasper leaned forward as soon as he felt confident they wouldn't be bothered further, addressing Alice in a whisper. "I'm sure you have many questions. It's safe here for now, but they'll follow eventually."

He was right; there were a lot of things she wanted answers to. "Okay, who is this they you keep referring to. Why wait for me, you're clearly well informed on my family. Surely Edward passed by that alley long before I did; wouldn't he have been more help to you? What do you know about Emmett's arrest, and how can you help me get him freed." She leaned back in her seat after the barrage of inquiries faking a sip of her coffee as she eyed him with impatience.

The clock was ticking; she had no idea if a vampire had ever been sent to human prison before or what would happen in that scenario. She also didn't know if Rosalie was still alive; surely, no human would be able to take her by surprise. Alice was fully aware that they were dealing with their own kind. 

"Edward doesn't trust me," He replied simply, staring out the large glass window to their left. "He's read my mind one too many times; he'll never say that to my face, of course. But I've got my own abilities; I can feel the waves of mistrust and distaste radiating from him."

"I have the ability to read and influence the emotions of those around me." He clarified as he took in Alice's confusion.

"I was under the impression if you had an ability like that, it was to be kept secret. Carlisle told me there's a group who rules our kind that would stop at nothing to get their hands on you should they discover such a power."

"That, my dear, would be the they in this equation. They're called the Volturi; I was under the impression they'd caught word of my group's actions and were here to put a stop to us." He stared at Alice in concern as he spoke as though he were worried for her, and her specifically. "In light of recent information, however, I don't think they care about my organization at all. I think they're here for a more sinister purpose."

"What does any of this have to do with Emmett?"

"When Rosalie went missing, it didn't sit right with me; I did a little investigating. I think they have a member working in the mortal legal system and had him framed as a distraction."

"What can I do to help?"

"Stay out of this; let me protect you." He asked her with pleading eyes. "I think you might be in just as much if not more danger than your brother."

"No. With or without your help, I'm not letting this go."

He stared at her in challenge for quite a while; she continued taking bogus sips of coffee, refusing to back down. With a long sigh, he finally relented. "If you truly want to help, I think it's time you met Maria."