#but i left my thoughts to simmer too long and now it's been reduced into thickness 😞 but anyway

[currentlyonstandbi]

[assectations]

Time was a finite source, what you borrowed would inevitably be scraped from somewhere else. You gambled, knowing full well the worth of the coins you hedged were undefined until the house called. But when things mattered, too important to push aside or write off as something moderately forgettable — you made time. Treviso and Minrathous were worth it. Now hung between them like a bitter pall, and it's slow unspoken rot coloured their conversations, even now. Clipped, not quite enough to draw a scrutinising gaze, but poignant enough it lingered. Like the haze beginning to overtake the grey clouds overhead, bruising like fruit with the early onset symptoms of the Blight. Frustration wasn't a newly bought dawn upon a never experienced horizon, rather it was a bitter taste he'd long been acquainted with, and loathed it with the fossilized rancour of the first. He wasn't frustrated at Neve, not for a minute. Her grief, reproachful gaze and the now near-permanent hardened line to her, was understandable. Forgivable. When your whole World burned down, reducing everything — and everyone — to ash on the fetid, flame-warmed breeze, what was left? And besides, what could he say — Sorry?

Words, in their Worlds, were often the poor man's currency. The gambit of the foolish and the naively ambitious. Too easily doled out, a gambler frantically parting with their weeks wages in the Cantori diamond, hoping to win big. You could say everything, and have it still mean nothing at all. He couldn't even say they'd managed to slay the Trevisan Dragon, which lodged another thorn of contension beneath his finger nails. Rhen's frustration solely lay in the situation that had been dealt to them, and his inability to do anything about it. Not right now, and not in the immediate future. Long games and their careful plans, however bloody they could get, couldn't be rushed. Locked in limbo, until the board spun on it's axis, casting their moves anew. "They were waiting for us the first time we came back, it's likely the only conscious thought they had. If they buried it —" A gloved hand waves in silent extrapolation, lips pulling downward, odd coloured eyes examining the beams. It didn't make it any better, but the Venatori's single minded penchant for violence, and poorly executed focus in the secondaries, was their gain. Wiping the soot away on winged shaped sleeves, he spots a relatively undamaged crate, lodged behind the bloodstained brazier he'd spied earlier. Wedging it out with little difficulty, and righting brazier in the process against the wall. He props it up and gets to work, beginning to dissect the debris for anything which looked salvageable. Straight to business, with zero hesitation. Neve's venom saturates the air, mixing inky and unpleasant with his own simmering disdain. Lower castes and slaves. Written off as less than worthless. He wants to say this is how they get them, by underestimating the underdogs. But that'd be more platitudes, so he doesn't. "Anyone else, this would be the holy grail. Viago would have my head if I came back empty handed from somewhere like this." Rook states with a tilt of his head, reaching to pull a stained, and slightly water damaged book from beneath the splintered wood he was crouched beside. Opening it to check to see if it was still legible, and then setting it aside so he could reach back in. "And they just step all over it, all because of the who." It might've been their gain, that the Venatori had left everything to rot in the wind, damp and ruin, but the why. The why settled ugly.

Time. How precious a commodity. While Neve's never been content with sitting idly, now it feels like it must have been another life entirely when she'd let herself rest for more than a moment. The past few weeks might as well have been years. Ever since the dragon attack she's been running only on fumes and time that feels far too inadequate for everything that needs to be done. How much of it do they really have? How long before the gods strike again, just as inevitable and relentless? How long before Neve has to begun grieving anew, and be helpless to do nothing?

A habitual 'thanks' sticks deep in Neve's throat. She swallows it and then feels cruel for doing so.

Wouldn't be entirely the truth to say she wouldn't mean it, but...she can't help herself. Bitterness lingers. Resentment. Resignation. The burgeoning blooms of trust trampled underfoot.

Unfair, you're being unfair, she tells herself. Treviso is Rook's home as much as Minrathous is hers. The idea of going anywhere else when she knew her city needed her, her people needed her, was unthinkable. Even if all she could do didn't amount to anything tangible in the end. What had she really done here, anyway? She hadn't stopped Viper being blighted, nor the Dragons brutally hunted down for the crime of opposing the Venatori. She'd been helpless to quell the blaze of dragon-flame. Some of the poorer streets of Docktown had gone up like so much dry kindling, despite the perpetual wet and damp.

Neve knows it isn't kind of her. She wonders if she cares about that anymore. Seeing your home burn puts a lot into perspective.

"We should clear away the worst of the debris first," she says instead. The largest of the wood beams that made travel difficult had been moved, but little else. Too like disturbing ghosts. There's no less ghosts now, the hideout no less haunted by their silvery regrets, but Neve has grown rather tired of looking around her and seeing only destruction. "Left the structure well enough alone," how nice, for the Venatori to have left the shell intact while they gutted it, "what was brought down doesn't appear to be anything supportive.

"We'll want to save any books or scrolls we find. Anything. Preserve them as best we can. Looks like they were more interested in the attack than looting afterwards," bitterness rises, bile-thick. "Probably because they saw no value in the inferior writings of slaves and the lower castes. Venatori," the name a curse, a brand of loathing. And what did it matter if a few tomes of no worth survived, if no one would be left to read them?

[cottonkendi]

Your Babies | 49

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Established Relationship, Angst

Warning: Spoiler warnings, Violence, Gun, Blood

Synopsis: Family ft. No Sides

Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50

Hugging your knees closer to you, you carefully take out a picture of Shinichiro from your wallet, your eyes grazing over his smiling face as he pulls you closer in the picture.

Even after all these years, you can still remember what happened. Can still remember just how flustered both of you were when the picture was finished, his hands getting sweaty but he was still hesitant to let you go.

The two of you looked so young before. Barely graduating high school, barely knowing what to do with your life.

And now…

You’re stuck living your life alone, hoping to every deity and god out there that they’d be merciful enough to you. That they’d give you a chance to finally be happy and bring all the siblings together even though the love of your life won’t be there to see his family be complete again.

It’s the only thing that you can wish for now.

You can’t think of anything else that you want in life. All your dreams, you’ve set aside all for the sake of the kids’ happiness and well being. All you wanted was for them to be safe and have a future to look forward to.

But now, you don’t know if you can continue living your life like this anymore. You don’t think you can continue living anymore.

Not when fear is the very first thing that you feel when you awake in the morning.

You just want to be able to wake up and look forward to all your seconds being spent with the love of your life, starting a family with him, with your families happily watching over you and your future unfold.

Raising your hand to your neck, you grasp the cold metal, fingers playing with the ring that you’ve barely worn for a year before opting to put it on Shinichiro’s necklace just because the ‘what ifs’ that would always plague your mind was too much.

What if Shinichiro didn’t die?

Will you two be happy and together now?

Will you have kids?

A happy family?

Will Izana be helping Shinichiro with the shop?

Will the siblings finally be able to look each other in the eye without any hatred simmering underneath?

Wiping your tears away, you continue to stare at the picture, unaware of how long you’ve been sitting with Shinichiro, nor do you notice the figure getting closer to you. Leaning against the headstone, you start talking to yourself, hoping that letting it all out will finally lessen the burden that you’re feeling. That it will finally give you room to breathe and think for yourself on how you’ll get through all of this.

“Shinichiro… do you think you can help me? Just, help me like you always did before… it’s been so hard being all alone, not having you to love me, hold me, support me… I don’t know how I managed to do it before I met you but now… I don’t want to do it by myself anymore…” Licking your lips, you fiddle with the flowers that the kids must have left earlier, breath shuddering with every exhale, your fingers shaking as more tears continue to flow. “I was really looking forward to our future, Shin… You made me get my hopes up thinking we’ll actually get married… thinking that we’ll be able to fulfill all our dreams together… I never thought that I’d be left all alone, Shin. I never imagined a future without you, I never wanted a future without you…”

Closing your eyes, you bite your lips, preventing any more sobs from escaping you even though the tears are still flowing freely down your cheeks.

The tears are hot as they trail streaks down your skin, but alas, it doesn’t lessen the weight on your shoulders. It doesn’t do anything to relieve the pain in your heart that continues to pierce through your soul. It almost feels like you’re about to drown from all your tears, unable to ask for help as you just lay there and hope for the best.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this helpless in your life.

Never thought you'd be reduced to a broken woman. Unable to cope with all that has happened to you throughout the years. Still holding onto the past while desperately trying to get to the future.

“Shin, I-” Your breath hitches when you feel a hand on your cheek, thumb gently wiping away your tears.

“I’m sorry…”

Slowly, you open your eyes, immediately being greeted by the sight of golden eyes filled with sadness and regret as he continues to wipe away all of your tears. “I’m sorry I ruined your life, Y/N-nee… And I’m sorry for not apologising sooner. You’ve been in pain for so long…” Kazutora whispers as he watches the way your trembling hand tightens on Shinichiro’s necklace before slowly letting it go, hand falling limp on your lap.

“Kazutora… what’re you doing here?” You rasp out, voice breaking a little from how long you’ve been crying.

You watch as the teenager takes in a deep breath, eyes trailing down to your side where the headstone is. “I… Emma’s surgery. It’s done… I went out to tell you that she’s safe now and that-”

Your eyes widen, fresh tears flowing down your cheeks but now, instead of grief and fear, it’s relief flowing through your body like a river, swallowing your whole body in a cool breeze. It makes your shoulders sag, tension leaving your body only for a split second for Kazutora speaks up once more.

“And I’m sorry to ask this of you right now Y/N-nee… but Mikey needs you. He’s at Yokohama Bay. There’s a huge fight between Toman and Tenjiku-”

“Tenjiku…?” Your eyes widen, the name of the gang sounding too familiar for your liking as you slowly stand up, lips quivering when you piece it together. “Izana and Manjiro… they’re going to fight?”

“Yes… I heard that the one behind Emma’s accident was Kisaki who’s now in Tenjiku. He was also the guy that got Baji stabbed-”

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you stare down at him. “They’re at Yokohama Bay, right?” He nods, a little scared at the look on your face. He’s never seen you angry before.

Has never seen you snap at any of them ever since he first met you years ago.

“Did you bring your bike with you?”

“Yes-”

“Good, we’re going to go to Yokohama Bay and stop all this fighting at once.” Taking in a deep breath, you spare one last look at Shinichiro before starting to head out of the cemetery. “I’m not going to lose any more of my kids.”

Driving to Yokohama Bay, you managed to finally compose yourself, the anger slowly simmering down until you can finally think of what you’re going to do once you’ve arrived.

So far, the only thing that you can actually think of is to stop the two from engaging in a physical fight while also making sure that the Kisaki kid doesn’t do anything to actually start whatever plan he has in his mind, knowing what he’s capable of, judging from what he was able to do to Keisuke, Emma and possibly, Ken, you’re sure that you’re not too keen with that Kisaki kid continuing his affiliations with any of your kids.

“This is the place.” Kazutora huffs out as he parks his bike next to yours as he leads you inside. “They should be in the 7th pier, just further inside. And as far as I know, it’s only been a few minutes since the fight has started.”

Following the teenager inside, the two of you cautiously look around, not sure if there are any gang members planning on jumping the two of you.

“Kazu… how did you find me, by the way? I don’t think I told anyone where I was going.”

“Oh… I was actually planning on visiting Shinichiro-san… to apologise. But then, Mikey called me and asked if I knew where you were because Emma’s surgery was finished and they were planning on leaving the hospital to go fight Tenjiku since Emma was finally safe.”

Humming, you’re about to ask another question, possibly bring up his apology earlier but then, the two of you freeze in your place when you hear the sound of angry shouting along with pained grunts and gasps.

Sharing a look, the two of you proceed to run towards the sound, immediately being met with the sight of teenagers punching and kicking each other which then turned to said fists and legs being thrown towards the two of you.

“Shinichiro is dead and you let Kisaki try to kill our sister too!”

“She’s not my sister!”

Dodging as best as you can to get to the two brothers sooner, you almost reach them when you hear Kazutora shout your name which makes you turn to the side where a fist is hurtling towards you from a guy wearing the red uniform. “Y/N-nee!”

With wide eyes, your hands instinctively raise, right hand grasping their wrist tightly before punching them on the nose with your left. “Oh my god… I have not done that in years…” You mutter to yourself, chest heaving from how hard you’re breathing due to the adrenaline starting to rise in your body, but alas, your little moment is ruined when you hear the sound of the two boys who you’re supposed to be stopping right now.

“Y/N-nee?! What are you doing here?” Manjiro shouts from the middle of the crowd which halts all of the fighting. Turning to him, the small relieved smile on your face disappears and turns into a frown when you see the bruises on his face which match the ones on Izana’s.

Huffing, you wipe your hands on your shirt, the blood on your fist smearing against your clothes as you look at the two brothers who are now looking at you, uncertainty in their eyes as you walk closer to them. “I came to save you two. I don’t want either of you to get deeper into this gang fights anymore. I don’t want any of you to end up in jail… or in the hospital. Or in a grave. So I came to stop you…”

Now that you’re only a few feet away from you, you’re suddenly aware of the numerous delinquents watching your every move, some with their weapons while others are merely listening in on what you’re about to say.

Watching the two brothers, you immediately notice how Manjiro’s shoulders had sagged at your words while Izana started to shake, eyes glaring at you as you utter every word. “You think… you think that it’s that easy? You think that you walking in here will suddenly stop all of this?! You must be delusional…” With a dark chuckle, Izana rushes towards you, his fist raised, about to hit you but then, he gets knocked to the ground with one kick from Manjiro who’s now gritting his teeth in anger, eyes starting to fill with hatred as he glares down at Izana who’s starting to chuckle on the ground.

“How dare you?!” Lunging at Izana, Manjiro raises his fists and strikes down at his brother which only makes Izana grip on Manjiro’s neck, tightening his hold with every hit. “Y/N-nee has done nothing but try to save you! All she’s done is sacrifice the little time that she had for herself in order to look for you! She wasted time and money just so that she can finally bring you home! And you try to hit her?! She’s gone through so much just for you! She’s still going through so much just to save you! How can you be so ungrateful?! Why can’t you just accept your family and be happy?! Do you want to die alone?! Do you want to die knowing that you shut out everyone that tried to help you just because you’re so into your sadness?!”

“They lied to me! Shinichiro and Y/N! They lied to me! And now, they’re leaving me behind too! Y/N and Shinichiro are siding with you! They don't care about me!” Kicking Manjiro off of him, Izana staggers on his feet as he stands up and glares at you. “You should’ve just left me alone the moment Shinichiro died. Should’ve never taken me away when I met that woman…”

Turning back, Izana’s about to walk over to Manjiro who’s just about to stand up when Kisaki speaks up from the crowd. The teenager clicks his tongue as he does so. “Goddamnit!” Whipping out a gun, your eyes widen when the teenager points it at Izana. “I joined Tenjiku thinking that you’ll be the person who’ll finally get rid of Mikey and Takemichi! I didn’t think you’d be bringing your family drama into this.” Clicking his tongue once more, he then looks over to you, with Keisuke and Draken standing behind you in order to protect you if there are any other people who’d want to go after you.

“And you… who do you think you are? You’ve already ruined my plan in killing Baji off. And now, you’re here again… I didn’t think that you’d be such a threat to my plans… I should’ve finished you off first.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but the moment you see Manjiro running towards Kisaki as the teenager turns to face Izana once more, your feet is suddenly taking you to the middle of the crowd, your body shielding Izana’s as you pull the boy closer to you.

BANG!

It takes a second for you to process what happened, but when it does, you suddenly find it hard to breathe, your legs starting to shake as you lean against Izana.

The sounds of shouting and crying can be heard as you turn your head to the side to see Manjiro pinning Kisaki to the ground, fist raised in the air before it hurtles down on the teenager’s face, over and over and over again.

You can hear his cries as he shouts out your name while tears start to brim his eyes. You can see the other kids start to move as well. With Keisuke and Draken going after Hanma who’s just about to come to Kisaki’s aid while Chifuyu, Mitsuya and Takemichi run around and try to get everyone to leave.

Then, as you’re about to call for Manjiro, something gurgles in your throat.

Something warm and metallic.

Covering your mouth, you start coughing which makes the pain on your shoulder worse. With shaky hands, you remove your hand from your mouth only to be met with the sight of blood.

Sucking in a breath, you try to wipe it off on your shirt only for your wrist to be held by Izana who’s looking at you with wide and frantic eyes, his hands clutching onto you so tightly as he pulls you closer to him, voice shaking as he whispers your name. “Y/N-nee… you-you’re blee-bleeding…”

By now, your eyesight starts to get blotchy. Dark spots start to cover your vision as you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “Izana… call your brother for me… stop him… I don’t want him to become a crimi-” Coughing, you immediately cover your mouth, trying your best to not let your blood touch his skin.

Your hand starts to feel heavy, making it harder for you to move as you’re left to stare up at Izana’s crying face as he holds you closer to him. You can feel the way he’s shaking as he holds you, can feel how hard he’s trying to hold onto you.

It reminds you of the time when you first had to leave Izana in the orphanage after you first met him.

He had cried so much while holding onto you. Asking you to not leave while Shinichiro tries to hide his tears behind you.

Kakucho was there too. Just behind Izana. Tears streaked his cheeks even though he tried so hard to pretend like he wasn’t crying. “Now, now… no need to cry, ‘Zana… Kakucho…” You whisper as you see Kakucho walk over to you, his eyes unable to meet yours as you look up at him. “I’m sorry I-I wasn’t able to bring… you t-two home sooner…It was more difficult than I thought, doing it a-alone…”

Patting their cheeks, you smile as they lean closer to your touch though by now, your vision is almost completely black, your eyelids continuously getting heavier which makes it hard for you to stay awake.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as you do your best to keep holding onto them, arms feeling like lead. ​​

Your ears are starting to ring as soon as your sight turns dark, the ringing only getting louder.

But then…

You hear a scream.

It gets louder and louder.

Eventually overpowering the ringing in your ears.

“Y/N-nee! Y/N-nee! Please! Wake up! Please! It’s me! Manjiro! Please don’t go yet!” With great effort, you manage to open your eyes though you can barely see him, everything looks so blotchy and hazy while the pain on your chest and shoulder only increases the more you’re awake. “Don’t leave me, Y/N-nee! Please! I need you! I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to be left alone!” Manjiro continues to sob, hands grasping onto your shirt as he leans closer, his forehead resting on your chest while the rest of the kids surround you, eyes glistening with tears as they try so hard to be closer to you even though the sound of the sirens are getting closer and closer.

“Ma-Manjiro…”

With one final burst of strength, you manage to lay your hand on his head, fingers barely moving to caress his hair. “I’m sorry… wasn’t able to protect any of you… I guess I was-wasn’t strong eno-enough on my own… but now… I hope you’ll be happy with your siblings… I promise to do my best… I’ll protect all of you… with all I have.”

Looking up, you smile at the kids, the pain slowly subsiding as your vision finally starts to go dark.

It seems that the pain will finally fade… that you won’t have to wake up in fear anymore…

Maybe you’ll finally be able to be with Shinichiro once more…

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[yinses]

he reminds your ex who you belong to

gojo satoru ft. f! reader + exhibition ( technically phone sex ¿) + some hair pulling + unprotected sex  wc: 2.3k

a/n: trying to get better with my tagging. i realize the community has it’s own sensitivities and i often fall short on that thought. i still owe some prompts and a few other asks but this has been siting in my drafts for a few weeks and i finally finished it up. 

it never fails to come as an interruption in your life, the shrill call of your phone blaring at inopportune times. each one conveniently impeding on time with gojo.  

your boyfriend of four months would give you that tight smile, blue eyes swimming with annoyance, but never concern. because not once did you pick up the call, always reaching out blindly to silence it without even acknowledging the accompanying messages. 

the number changes, but you learned not to accept any call from one you didn’t recognize. important communications were typically followed by voicemail and that was how you dealt with that. but the duration was becoming more tedious than either of you imagined, reaching above the white noise decibel it had been reduced to. 

“maybe i should just change my number, “ you suggest forlornly. it would ensure that he had no way to contact you freely, but it would also force you to reestablish connections with all your friends and family. it seemed like an extreme measure but when push came to shove. 

only a few moments pass before the phone picks up again, hammering down the final nail in your resolve. 

“i think you should answer.”

gojo’s unexpected intervention comes from the edge of the bed where he flips the said phone carefully from one palm to the next. his fingers brush past the two blinking options just short of selecting. 

you shift from foot to foot, not sure how to accept that response. gojo was as irritated as you were but you didn’t expect him to cave first. 

frowning, you shake your head. “i’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” his gaze sweeps over your face, somewhat amused by your discomfort. there is a swirl of mischief alight in those bright blue eyes.  “apparently he needs a little more than a simple no.”

he holds out the device, voice taunting but firm.

“if you don’t answer you’ll miss the call.”

as if there wouldn't be a dozen more to follow. 

your mouth feels dry, hand heavy with the weight of decision. it wasn’t as though you couldn't deal with the situation, so much as if you were prepared to. ignoring had been the more appealing option over confrontation but perhaps it had been your hesitation that had been the problem all along. ultimately your thumb taps to accept the call. 

“hello?”

‘baby, i’ve been trying to reach you for ages.’

the bed creaks but you’re too focused breathing evenly to notice. you weren’t familiar with the etiquette of many break ups, which was why this one was the hardest. it had been a long love that had followed you into the early years of adulthood before spark began to fizzle out. 

“i just answered to tell you to stop calling. i’ve already blocked your number once.”

the attempt to revive the romance before it all fell apart had been one-sided. he’d been quicker to discover other fish in the sea before you had. it seemed as though in your patience, you’d found something better while he spent his time chasing minnows without satisfaction. 

‘yes, but you didn’t give me the chance to explain. we don’t have to be over.’

you should have seen it coming. 

your shoulders tense at the press of his lips at your neck. gojo had a propensity for creating opportunities out of every little divot in life. he lived the role of a jester but held the mind of a genius. gojo had been kind in biting his lip to bare down on the jealousy simmering down beneath.

he gives you a brief grace period as his slender fingers tap the mute button then his lips return to your ear. “if you want this, get onto the bed and place the phone above your head with the speaker on.”

an immediate protest flies to your lips but doesn’t quite make it to fruition. what he’s suggestion goes beyond sexual barriers you’d set up thus far. gojo had a knack for pushing them and helping you discover new fantasies and hidden pleasures. 

at the first hint of a pout against your throat, you cave. 

so weak for him.

your ex seems none the wiser to the hitch in your voice as you press one knee to the bed, then the other before carefully rolling onto your back. swallowing the waning confidence before it leaks from your body, you seal the deal by placing the phone just above your head after activating the speaker. 

“good girl.” the words come whispered for your benefit as gojo crawls onto the bed. as if his intentions weren’t already clear enough, the prominent hardness in his pants as he slots between your legs is. you can’t help but grow dizzy at the thought of your premeditated actions, all while your thighs tighten around his form. 

his hands warm the shivers from your sides as he slides up your shirt and kisses down your navel. gojo delivers a sharp nip just before muttering a brisk,” unmute.” in reminder. 

the command comes just in time for your expected response though you’re no more prepared to deliver when gojo unbuttons your pants and works them over your hips. 

‘maybe if we could just meet somewhere?’

the sincerity coupled with your actions makes it all feel more one-sided with you playing the role of the villain. he’d been an ass, yes, but surely he didn’t deserve this. 

right?

“it doesn’t matter, were-mmph.” no part of you expected gojo to play this fairly. you choke on the response when his tongue licks a firm swipe against the fabric of your panties. 

‘what does not matter? speak to me. lets talk this out.”

funny how he chose now of all times to acknowledge the issues you had and attempted to resolve in the past. 

gojo words feel condescending as he mimics what’s heard against your cunt. there was no doubt in your mind that he’d completely written off your ex from the beginning. the same confidence from your first date dripped from his touch as he worked down the fabric from your hips. 

not once did he promise to watch his volume as he sloppily wets his fingers. he’s is ruthless as he plunged in two in on the first thrust, palm curling up to rub friction against your clit. any other time you would have revealed in his ability to make you come apart so easily, now you were more embarrassed by how much easier you felt. 

‘is this a bad time? you seem distracted.’

every time was a bad time. that was the point. 

gojo’s tongue wet the inside of your thigh, “don’t let him hang up. you want this to be his last call, remember.”

at this rate he was going to make this your last waking moment. 

somewhere between a squeak and a whimper, you managed to form words against the friction of gojo’s touch sliding in and out. “no, let’s just-i- yeah, no, we should talk it out now. i’m tired of going back and forth.”

the line pauses briefly. and you almost hope for a second he reaches clarity and saves you from the embarrassment. ‘alright then. are you really not willing to give it another shot?’

your groan of arousal is disguised by disappointment but the opposite warms gojo’s breath against your damp skin. “i didn’t realize you were dating such an idiot. how can he be so dense.” his lips smack, shiny with your stimulation.” you must just really have a thing for pretty faces, willing to look past so much.”

you were willing to look past his deviousness right now, ready to let him desecrate you over the phone like this.

“you’re pretty, toru.” you try to jab but are countered with the addition of a third finger as he starts a relently pace. the sounds are so dirty, reckless suckling sounds that had to carry. gojo made sure of it as he twisted his wrist in retaliation over every shift of your hips. 

“i am much prettier than they guy. much better at a lot,” he enunciates sharp smack to your thigh. 

then he curls just right and you turn for face into the phone and keen.

‘seriously what is going on you sound- strained.’

gojo’s chuckle vibrates within you. “poor guys don't even know what you sound like on the verge of an orgasm.”

your voice is impossibly hoarse and not very convincing as you choke out,” i’m fine. n-no look … i only answered because i wanted us to-fuck-no sorry.” gojo wasn’t making this easy. “- wanted us to reach some closure and move on.”

gojo pulls out just short of your building orgasm and you gasp breathy at the loss. 

‘we were together for two years. surely that amounts to more than just moving on.’

it did. way back when the unexpected break up had torn your hearts to shreds. the misunderstanding and lost connections had eaten you out from the inside. left you failing in the unknowns of what you did wrong and why he wanted to slow down your progress.

now it all seems insignificant in comparison the sight of your current boyfriend slowly fisting his cock. 

‘you wanted to use the break to decide if you were ready for a future together and i think we both realized that we weren't-”

gojo had chosen the right moment to intervene in your life and the moment at the head of his cock pushes through the first ring. he follows through in one motion, filling you to hilt as his hand reaches up to fist the short of your hair. 

‘baby, no one knows you like i do.’

the sharp sting of his fist clenching as he hips rock back is the last warning you get before he slams back in. there was more to the familiar precision as he ruts into you. gojo was the better man, but even he felt short to the green-eyed-monster. 

he was relentless with his pace, fucking into you harder with each new whimper you give up. your consciousness is a fleeting cloud, wafting high out of your reach as your mouth opens up to sharp cries. 

‘are you working out right now? your words sound broken.’

gojo’s hand presses into the curve of your back as he leaves over you. “fuck, you should just tell him. get this over with. let him know that you belong to someone else now. someone who is currently fucking you better than he ever could.”

your protests mirror your resolve and you can already feel your lips forming those exact words before you catch yourself. “i-i cant.” that was too much, right?

gojo didn’t seem to think so. he suddenly pulled out just enough to turn you over, hand still holding your hair hostage as he pushed your face into the mattress effectively ruining your ability to speak properly. 

“tell him, or i will. and i’ll add in every dirty little thing we’ve done leading up to this moment. you don’t belong to him anymore and he should know it. properly.”

‘hey, should i just come over?’ comes that voice again, a constant glutton for punishment.

“no!” you cry out. “i-we can’t- i’m.”

gojo decides to help you out. no longer willing to be a spectator as if he could be called such. “fuck, baby. make those pretty noises for me.”

‘is that someone else? are you with someone right now.’

gojo snatches up the opportunity, hand curling around the phone to place it against the tacky sweat accumulating against the skin between your shoulder blades. you can feel it teetering with each jerk of your body. 

“yeah, she is. apparently she needs help getting her point across. if she wants to contact you  she will do so on her terms. “ he huffs peevishly,“ until then fuck off or you can listen to me fuck her doesn’t matter to me.”

his commanding tone shouldn’t sound so hot. you can’t help but moan as he hits that spot just right. 

a high pitched ‘what the fuck’ grates unpleasantly against the mood you’re so desperate to build to its peak. 

“i take it back, hearing you screech is going to make me go soft. don’t call again.”

‘wait don’t-’ his protest comes a moment too late for gojo’s waning patient as he abruptly cuts off the call and flings the phone somewhere above your head. 

“I imagined that going much smoother in my head,” grunts as he picks up the pace.

your mouth falls open but nothing comes out. you’re unable to blink past the flood of light as you melt into the roll of his hips. there is nothing left for you to do but squeeze around him as you absorb each thrust. 

“i don’t know what i was expecting thinking you could form coherent sentences when i fuck you stupid like this.” his voice is markedly softer now, still agitated but gentler in his touch as he loosens his grip. your head turns without instruction, eagerly catching his mouth in a sloppy kiss. 

the tell tale tremble shudders from one end to the next as you dig your knees into the mattress and gyrate your hips. the angle rewards you with an opportunity to ride his cock straight into nirvana. gojo comes to shatter the already broken cry of release by manipulating speed and precision while you chant his name all the way over the edge. 

his breath comes in short rasps as he follows you over, body drawn up taut as his orgasm washes over.  

gojo’s weight is unforgiving, but thankfully brief when he collapses on top of you before rolling onto his side. he gathers you into his arms and rolls you in against his chest. his fingers chase yours and he brings them to his lips to kiss each one. 

“maybe you should have just gone with your idea and changed numbers.”

somehow you find the air to laugh as your head falls back against his sweaty shoulder. he shares your humor, smile sharp with a new prospect.

“or perhaps we can try again? maybe repeated exposure will do the trick.”

[yandere--stuck]

Yandere Megaera x Shade Reader, submitted by @faeleas (idk if i did it right, but hope you like it regardless. and im sorry it's a little long >_<")

~

it had taken so long for you to sneak back into the entrance to Asphodel to catch even a glimpse of the powerful fury without her detection, but now that you had your spot behind on of the pillars far off to the side, you stayed put, kept silent and didn't blink lest you lost one second of Megaera in the fullness of her element.

she was a blaze of glory, her strength vibrating through the air as she snapped out her whip again and again at the prince, slicing the very breath from your lungs as you gazed in awe. how wonderful and powerful she was to behold, and how enthralling it always would be to watch her fight, to see her wicked smile cut into her teal cheek as she overflowed with the desire to cut the Zagreus down and stop his progress.

you could almost feel the faint impression of a thundering heartbeat in your chest, and that sensation only swelled when Megaera caught Zagreus by the ankle with her whip and tossed him high into the air above her. you gaped, eyes on her alone and in your shock, your duty to silence fell away, the quiet suddenly broken with your small gasp.

Megaera was just about to deal a finishing blow to the haughty prince who'd dared challenge her again, who was so proud to believe he could best her in her own domain, when she heard it. she heard you.

time seemed to stutter as her gold eyes darted to every corner of the entrance to Asphodel, searching through the dim glow of flickering firelight for the source of the sound that broken her focused rage. after a second, her brazen gaze locked on you hidden in the shadows in the corner of her arena, hands clasped over your mouth and eyes wide with... something. as far as she knew, it should be fear. no shade had ever gotten this far away from the House of Hades, let alone made it inside this forbidden space, and yet, there you were, trembling as you held her narrowing gaze still.

why? what kind of foolishness mightve brought you to her? what a silly, brazen little shade you must be to even try, but before Megaera could consider any possibilities about what you might be made of, a searing pain tore through her lower back.

a gasp clawed out of her gut, dragging up with it a small splatter of blood that coated her lips. as Megaera tore her eyes from you to her stomach, she found the tip of Zagreus's sword lodged right through her waist.

"y-you... wre-etched... " she choked, then coughed again. with the little time she had left, Megaera looked over her shoulder at the young determined prince and snarled a smile full of bloody teeth before she spat, "next time, i-i will... have you... kneeling before m-me... Za-agreus."

the fury was beginning to fade, but with the very last moments of her current awareness, she threw a burning glare at you, daring you to try anything near her again.

Megaera snarled as she came to and pushed herself to her feet in the resurrection pool of blood, snatching her whip from the shallow beside her and quickly marching out, shaking the sticky blood from her hands and raking it out of her long lilac-blue ponytail. You were all she xould think about: the shade who had snuck in, distracted her, watched her get outmatched by that smart-mouthed prince of Hades. she had to find you and punish you as she saw fit.

blowing off Thanatos before he could say anything to her, not that her blazing rage that licked at the air around her like coughed up sputters of lava from a volcano didn't do enough to stop his attempt anyway, the Fury snapped out her one sharp wing and took off, rushing back to her domain in hopes that you had been petrified where you stood. when she landed with a thunderous crash and found you there still, a bubbling snarl rose to her throat.

"You." Megaera prowled towards you, cutting her whip through the air just to make you flinch, and just as you opened you mouth to apologise and explain, she roared and unleashed her weapon, the force of the wind caused by it's movement alone knocking you back into the very pillar you had been hiding behind. not a moment after you'd caught the breath knocked from your lungs did you find it firmly restricted once again, Megaera's whip binding you securely to the marble pillar itself.

Megaera stood with her arms crossed for a moment, her endless rage sparking under her teal skin, brightened by the gold ornaments that gleamed around her arms and waist and neck. she watched you squirm in the tight coil of her whip, a grin stretching across her rouged lips as your panicked eyes eventually met hers. you knew all she could do, and you could tell from her easy cadance walking close to you that she knew it also.

"Tell me, you impudent shade, why were you in my domain? for what reason would you think you could be here and not be discovered?"

Megaera purred, but her voice was devoid of warmth, promising that the wrong answer would only end in pain. she kept sauntering closer and closer to you until her iron breath caressed your face, then placing her hand beside your head on the pillar, the fury ran her tongue across her teeth, leaned over you and finished, "What made you think you were that clever to enter the arena of a Fury and escape unpunished? Do tell."

now you knew you had a heart, since it thumped hot and hard in every corner of your being. you couldn't pull your eyes from hers even though everything in you screamed to. you swallowed hard, knowing there was no way out of this so with a sigh, gave in and told the truth.

"I-I... I s-saw you once, in the lounge. I'd h-heard about you but... I just wanted to see you- to watch you fight, i mean."

Megaera frowned at your words but inside her, something was turning. "Is that so?"

you nodded quickly, then instantly shivered it when you watched the burning anger in her gaze reduce to a contained simmer, gold winking in the light of the fires around you both.

The Fury watched you, the hot blush in your cheeks, listened to the thundering of your heart in your chest, could almost taste the terrified awe in the air around you, not that she wasn't used to it. But... you thought she was incredible.

Megaera thought back to the fight with Zagreus, the moment she'd met your gaze, how wide and full of.. adoration it had been. it wasnt disgust, or disdain, or fear. it was... shock, awe maybe... something else.

"How long have you been watching me?" she whispered, leaning closer, pulling on the end of the whip and purring a smile when you whimpered.

the leather of her whip burned as it pressed into your throat, the hissing sting snatching every thought from your mind. after finding your breath, you tightly confessed, "I've... seen you fight Prince Z-Zagreus... 13 times. I didn't mean t-to intrude. I just.. wanted to see you fight for myself."

Megaera blinked twice quickly. 13 times. it took at least a week for Zagreus to get through all of Hades and reach the surface, so for 13 weeks you had been watching her, not in disgust, or disdain, something else that made you come back.

"Why?"

again the Fury pulled the whip tighter, and again it dug into your body, making you gasp as you blinked through the stinging pain, but as it subsided, you looked up into her honeyed gaze with desperation and honesty, muttering with embarrassed timidity. "I... think you're... really cool. Incredible, even. T-That's all."

Incredible.

a pulse flickered in Megaera's bottomless core. No one had ever used such a word to describe her in... longer than she knew. those words settled deep in Megaera's heart faster than she could stop them, and once they were there, everything in her clung to them like they were the only thing keeping her alive.

What were you that such simple words could elicit such a profound internal symphony that almost sent her shivering with shock? how could she have not known such power existed? when you looked at her with that pleading gaze, with eyes that were so raw with truth, full of goodness, of... something, it was impossible to lokk away. in your eyes was something that was more than respect, more than fear, more than adoration... love was the only thing more than all three.

yes, that must be the only explanation. You loved watching her, you loved seeing her fight, loved seeing her, loved her. You loved her. how fickle, how very mortal of you... and yet...

Megaera huffed a laugh as she stepped back to look at you, all of you that apparently loved all of her. The Fury couldn't believe it. a simple shade had risked everything to tell her, to show her that they loved her. how enrapturing.

the lilac haired punisher of jealousy was quickly overcome with something that, in the scope of all that had just happened, must felt like love too, but she wanted it for herself alone. this pulse of heat within her because of you and the way you looked at her, it was for her, and it would always be hers. anything that threatened to take it away would be destroyed. it had to be.

with that resolve fluttering inside her, Megaera gently brushed your cheek with the back of her fingers, then lifted your chin with her finger. when you flinched at her cool touch, she grinned and cooed sweetly, "Hm. Oh, my curious little shade. If you love it so much, then you will stay here to watch me. You will be able to witness my greatness for as long as you want, as many times as you want. Yes, you will stay right here, but if you betray this trust, there will be consequences. Have I made myself clear?"

As you nodded, likely out of fear of saying otherwise, Megaera's heart tightened once again. Yes, you loved her, and now, she would fight to show you how much that love meant, to prove that she was the only one you needed to love, to make you love her even more. It wouldn't be hard.

No one else would take your eyes from gazing upon her. Not Zagreus, not her sisters, not even Lord Hades himself. Your endless gaze was hers now, and by extension, so were you.

end

---

I'm so so sorry I only posted this just now but. Oh my Goddddd this is incredible holy shit!!! Thank you so, so much for submitting this I'm 👀👀👀👀👀 Ms. Megaera......

Thank you so so much again, I love your writing and prose, and I'm sorry for only getting to it now, the app doesn't show me notifications for submissions, just asks ;w;

[mae-gi-writes]

Take Me Back | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! You broke up with Sunwoo because of long distance and he’s hated you ever since. When you meet up after three years, feelings resurface. 

Genre: angst, ex to lovers au, enemies to lovers kinda, fluffy ending.

A/N: JESUS i know I said that I don’t have time because I LITERALLY DON’T. So don’t ask me why all this inspiration comes to me when I can’t even sit down to write -- I write on the way to and from work, it’s so sad -- so yeah. I hope you enjoy <3 <3 

---------

Breaking up because of long distance was one of the biggest regrets of your life. The fact that you had to let him go because it was just getting too hard for your heart to cope was, in itself, heartbreaking. But you figured that it could get better, for the both of you, if you moved on with your lives without being tied at the hip with someone that was a continent away.

Except, the moment you had murmured your silent goodbyes, you had broken down into the most horrible, heartbreaking sobs that had ravaged your entire body. You cried and cried and cried, and wouldn't stop. The tears just wouldn't stop even when you told yourself that it was better this way, that he'd find someone better, stronger, it did nothing to ease the burning pain pulling your heartstrings apart.

One thing was for sure, Sunwoo's behaviour made things much easier. He'd grown distant first, curt and cold and isolating you, though you knew deep down it was a way to protect his own heart from the damage you'd inflicted on him.

But then he started ignoring your messages, spoke rudely whenever you did catch him on the phone. While you tried being understanding the first few times, you soon grew frustrated and annoyed that he'd act so childishly. The man you had once loved with all your heart had now been reduced to nothing but someone who kept digging holes into your heart.

You juggled the thought of asking him whether he hated your guts for what you did. You wouldn't judge him. On the contrary, you'd understand.

But you hadn't. Merely because the thought of losing him forever pained you.

Fast forward three years and here you were, sitting in a restaurant with a group of your high school friends, Sunwoo included. He'd nodded curtly at your appearance but did nothing more, causing your heart to squeeze in pain at the nostalgia kicking through your stomach.

"It's been years, Y/N. And you look the same," one of your good friends, Eric, jovially stated with a wink, already down by a few beers.

"Thanks Eric, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't go hitting on Sunwoo's ex with him right here," your classmate Raina said, "let's not end this dinner in a fight."

"I don't think Sunwoo minds," you mumbled loud enough for it to reach everyone's ears.

"You're right, I don't care," Sunwoo's voice -- still as deep, still as gorgeously beautiful and rough. An obvious contrast to the iciness of his words like pricks aimed at your heart.

You tried your best to brush off his comment, turning to Raina to ask her about any updates about her love life.

As the night wore on and people fell into deeper conversation, others left with excuses that they had spouses to return to, families waiting for them. Until there's only you and Eric in a corner, with Sunwoo at the bar, chatting up a gorgeous girl that looked like she had just walked out of a magazine spread.

"Still doesn't wanna talk huh?" Eric took a swig of his drink.

You shook your head, "he hates me, Eric."

"No he doesn't."

"Yes, he does.He can't even look at me in the eye without scowling."

"Bollocks. You just don't see it."

"What's there to see?" You scoffed, "if killing me was legal he would've done it ages ago."

Hesitating slightly, Eric takes another swig of his drink before replying, "look, I can't speak for him. But...you'll just have to talk to him yourself."

"Fuck no, I'm not doing that," you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Stubbornness never looked good on anyone."

You pulled out your tongue in response.

"Childish," Eric's eyebrow rose in amusement. Before you could defend yourself though, the said man turned to call out Sunwoo's name and you watched in growing horror as Sunwoo walked over to your table.

"Right," Eric jumped up from his seat as though it was on fire, "Sunwoo, keep her company. I'm off to see my girlfriend."

"What? No--" but Eric was already out of the door before Sunwoo's protests were heard, resulting in an awkward air hanging off your table the moment he turned, causing you to quickly drop your eyes to the beer you were nursing.

"You don't have to stay here," came your mumble.

You felt him shift in his seat before he said, "even if I am, I'm not doing this for you."

"I know," you shot back, gaze flitting up to clash with his mahogany orbs, ones that you remembered held so much love and tenderness before. They were now cold, dark with silent seething anger. You continued, "I know you're not. I never asked you to."

"Then stopping looking at me like that," he snapped, "you of all people should know how tough this is for me."

"Sunwoo, it's been three years--"

"Don't," he cut you off with a hiss, "talk about that."

Rage started to bubble in your stomach, "I don't understand whether you hate me, or whether you’ve just turned into this rude annoying person that nobody can stand.”

He seemed to have been slapped by your statement, stayed silent for a few minutes as he clasped his drink a little tighter.

Knowing Sunwoo, he was probably silently seething from what you'd just said. Your own fingers clenched around your beer, hating how easily he could upset you even after all these years.

When he spoke next, his alto was slightly softer, a little less harsh on you, "I don't hate you."

"Doesn't seem like it to me."

There was a pause in which you managed to recollect your emotions, the anger simmering down to cold remorse at how badly you had left things.

"I'm sorry," you murmured out, avoiding his eyes in case he saw the pain that consumed you, "I know it's not easy for you. It's not easy for me either."

"I don't hate you, Y/N," Sunwoo's alto was gentle this time, without any of the malice of the earlier hour, "I...It just hurts me, every time I see you I can't stop thinking of what we were before. I--" he shifted and you managed to lift your orbs up to his, only to see guilt swimming through his as he choked out, "I miss you."

Emotion tightened your chest. Tears rushed to your eyes, "I miss you too."

You stayed unmoving, your eyes saying everything that your words couldn't. The music boomed around you, filled the empty silence that would've swallowed you whole otherwise.

When you felt your ex-boyfriend move in your peripheral, you glanced at him, noticing for the first time the tired lines around his eyes. What looked like resignation was set on his face.

And then he was pushing his hair back, muttering a string of excuses about how he couldn't do this anymore before he walked right out of the bar, with you gaping at his retreating form.

"Sunwoo! Hey--" you scrambled up to chase after him, stumbling over your feet as you gripped your bag clumsily. Running out into the street to see him already steps ahead of you, you quickly jogged up to his frame, not taking into account the nervous fluttering through your chest.

"Hey, wait! Sunwoo!" You gripped onto his arm and pulled him back. He resisted.

You started blurting things out anyway, desperate to make things right, desperate to take away the pain he felt.

"Sunwoo I'm sorry," you stumbled on as he quickened his stride, "I never--I never meant to hurt you, I-- I thought that it was best for both of us at the time, I didn't--" your words were choked, laced with emotion, "I didn't know how hard it would be."

He stopped so abruptly you almost walked into his back.

His shoulders shook as he spoke, "when we broke up, I couldn't stop thinking. Did I do something wrong? Should I have done more?" He took a breath, "I wasn't living, Y/N. I barely ate. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. It was-- it was horrible," his alto broke at the last word.

You took a step closer. Tentative. Hesitant. Hands tightened into fists.

He continued, "and it never got better. I thought it would. That's what they all said. But three years have passed. Three years and I still feel like I lost the most precious fucking thing in my life and I can't live with myself because of that."

You couldn't feel your heart, which was tightening with pain and sympathy that mirrored his words. Memories of you crying into your pillow as you willed all of your love to disappear, memories of the dull ache stretching across your ribs because you had cried too much.

You opened your mouth, an apology on the tip of your tongue, when Sunwoo swivelled around so fast you barely blinked, his hands finding your shoulders in a tight grip.

"Y/N," His eyes were red and red-rimmed as they searched yours in growing desperation, "look Y/N, what I had-- what we had, I miss that. I miss us. Please, I--" swallowing thickly as his grip tightened on you, he continued, "you can do anything. Anything, Y/N. Break me. Use me. Do whatever the fuck you want but just-- just--" his chest heaved with a shaky inhale, a sob echoing from his throat, "just let me be yours again."

The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't believe your ears. Your heart beat so loud you felt it vibrate against your ribcage.

His chest heaved, his breaths coming out short and static as he stared at you, waiting, hoping.

There were so many things, so many things you wished to say at this very moment, so many things that you had regretted the moment you had parted ways with this amazing man.

And now, to hear that he wanted you back, that he was still undoubtedly, irrevocably in love with you was enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes as another wave of pure hope crashed through your heart and flooding it with light. 

"Y/N," Sunwoo searched your eyes, "say something--"

You did. Jumped up to press your mouth against his.

He stumbled, hands finding purchase at your waist.

And when he kissed you back, all thoughts flew out of your head only to leave Sunwoo's taste engulfing your entire being like you had never stopped loving him from the first day you met.

It was pure, utter bliss. It was like finding the lost lover that had parted ways with you at sea. Sunwoo's mouth was hard on your own as he moved with the same grace, the same fluidity that left you breathless. His grip tightened, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest on your lower back as sparks ignited beneath your half-closed lids. Everything came crashing back; the memories, the happiness, the giddy excitement that erupted in the form of goosebumps and electrical sizzles over your limbs whenever Sunwoo kissed you.

It had never stopped. And at this very moment, you wondered briefly why you had forced him away when your heart was still irrevocably his.

One hand coming up to cup your jaw, he proceeded to tilt your head back to suckle onto your lower lip, the action causing a gasp to die in your throat while your hands tightened around his neck, pulling him even closer if that was possible.

Sunwoo's chest rumbled with a choked up moan, tongue darting out to meet yours halfway while a soft whimper echoed through your throat. You tried to match his movements, to kiss back as passionately as he was kissing you. But it was almost like Sunwoo was trying his best to make up for all the time you's spent apart, his mouth permanently pressed on yours and when you turned to catch your breath, he kissed your cheek, the corner of your eye, pulling you into him to imprint another kiss at the base of your neck.

You shuddered with emotion, body lighting up on fire and heat pooling through your stomach. Turning your head back until your noses brushed, your breath caught when your eyes locked, for Sunwoo's gaze was one of fierce, intense affection, as though you were something he'd sworn to protect his whole life.

"Don't," his gaze softened, thumb brushing your lower lip, "don’t ever leave me again, I--” his own lips trembled, "I don't know how...how I'll live with myself if you do."

You knew that words were going to be useless at this point, so you just nodded, biting down on your lower lip as he leaned in and dropped a kiss near your temple.

It was weird after so long, to have his body so close and his scent overwhelming your senses, a reminder of many long nights where you'd cuddled up to sleep on his chest. Just the memory made your lips tilt into a soft amile.

That grabbed his attention, "what are you thinking about?" He murmured.

"About you," your soft maroon clash with his intense dark chocolate, "about how stupid it was to have given up on us, because all this time apart feels like a waste. And I feel so stupid."

"It's not your fault Y/N," he smoothed a hand over the side of your head as his gaze softened, "there were so many things working against us. And maybe-- maybe it was right, at this time."

Your head tilted upwards to watch him. You felt his fingers, absentmindedly drumming against your lower back and igniting a line of sparks up your spine.

He continued, "I wouldn't have known, how important you were to me, how you filled up such a major part of my life--Oh shit. You're crying?" He was quick to catch your incoming tear with his thumb, panic flashing through his features, "Y/N? What is it? What did I say?” 

“Nothing, it’s nothing I just--I’m so sorry I broke up with you,” you blurted out as silent tears trailed down your cheeks. Shaking your head and looking up into his maroon orbs, you impulsively reached up to cup his face with your hands. Lucky, your subconscious chanted. You were lucky to have someone like him.

"Come here,” You didn’t protest when Sunwoo’s arms tugged you into his broad chest -- was it broader? You felt like it was-- before his head rested atop yours. Another softest of pecks was imprinted atop your forehead, then your nose, before he dipped his head for a chaste kiss upon your mouth. 

It felt like a promise. It felt like a message conveyed from him to you, that he wasn’t about to let go, prompted even more when he wound his arms around your frame in a firm, yet gentle hug. 

You pillowed your head against his chest, closed your eyes, and counted all your blessings. 

You were definitely counting Sunwoo as one. And you’d make sure that you wouldn’t be as foolish as to let go of him ever again. 

[aio-rya]

Silver Chef Uniform — SR Card Story

Part 2

Let's make beef stew 2 ~Silver Edition~

Ghost Chef: This time I would like to introduce... Ta-dah! 「Electric Pressure Cooker」!

Silver: Electric pressure cooker...!

I see. If you use the pressure cooker, you can significantly reduce the stewing time.

Moreover, if it's an electric type, it also has a timer function. It seems you don't have to worry about burning the ingredients even if you take a nap.

Ghost Chef: Well... yes, that's what it is. It seems you told me everything about it before I could explain you.

Silver: It's the frst time I've used appliances for cooking.

Riddle: Eh! For first time? Even I, who don't cook often, have used the microwave oven.

Silver: Of course I know it exist but... Since I came to this school, I had the school cafeteria so I didn't had a chance to use it.

In the Valley of Thorns, far from having a microwave oven, most homes doesn't have gadgets themselves.

Riddle: So life is based on the premise that you can really handle magic... It's hard for me to imagine that.

However, if you live in the Valley of Thorns, your magic will improve even more.

Silver: If you have the magical power and ability, I don't think there could be any inconvenience for life in my hometown.

Ghost Chef: Well, Silver. Put the ingredients inside the electric pressure cooker.

Select "Beef stew" from the menu displayed on the panel and turn on the switch to start cooking.

Silver: Twenty minutes left...

Ghost Chef: That's how it works. Now, let's relax and wait for it to boil.

Silver: Is it okay to not look at the cooker?

What about stirring it?

Ghost Chef: It's okay since you set it fine. Otherwhise, if you play it badly¹, you'll fail.

Let's leave the pressure cooker and make some Demi-Glace Sauce.

Silver: The sauce making finished unexpectedly early. Should I wash the pot and knives we used?

Wash...

..........

...the pot....

..........

Ghost Chef: Ah! Hey, Silver!

Silver: Huh, dangerous. I was about to fall asleep. You noticed right away.

So, what should we do now?

Ghost Chef: I was taken away from the show a while ago, so let me explain how to use the pressure cooker.

Silver: Yes, please.

Chef Ghost: There are many menus registered on the electric pressure cooker but you don't have to make eveything acording to the recipe. By changing some ingredients and seasonings you can cook any dish you want to.

For example, there are ingretiends being simmered right now, right? If you add tomato juice instead of the demi-glace sauce, the tomato stew will be completed.

Silver: ....... Tomato juice is my father's favorite.

Using tomato juice instead of sauce...

Father might like it and eat it.

~ ~ ♪

Silver: What kind of sound is that...?

Ah, have it finished cooking?

Ghost Chef: Open the lid of the pressure cooker, be careful not to get burned.

Silver: Yes!

This is...

Both, meat and vegetables are well cooked. How is it that soft in just 20 minutes?

Ghost Chef: Now, let's get it finished.

Silver: Season with a little amount of ketchup and the demi-glace sauce we made earlier, is that it?

Ah, it's delicious!

...... okay, it's done.

Ghost Chef: Isn't it pretty? Now, let's take it to the judges.

Silver: Ah, no matter how tough it appears, I will ensure my own victory.

Ghost Chef: No no, you are not a dueling.

???: Are you the one who cooked, Silver?

Silver: Jamil, I often hear from Kalim that you are good at cooking.

One of the most talented people at school... Would I be able to beat you?

Jamil: What the hell are you playing to? Well, I'll get it right away.

The taste is... Yeah, it's ordinary.

Silver: Ordinary... But...

Jamil: Ingredients are well cooked such as meat, that can be evaluated, it's so soft that it crumbles just by putting it in your mouth.

Didn't it take a long time?

You might fall asleep on the way...

Silver: Ah, I was worried about that too.

In fact, I was drowsy while the boiling process. I was able to do it well thanks to the chef letting me use an electric pressure cooker.

That's why the stew time was shorter. I managed to survive without sleeping.

Jamil: I'm surprised.

I thought "Master Chef" was a program aimed to improve cooking techniques... Students who have problems with their skills must been given a tool to avoid failure. And by that I mean, studying.

Silver: Oh, he taught me a good way to make up for my own immaturity.

If you fall asleep, you can set the timer so that you won't burn food. Besides, when time is over, music will be played and you'll be able to wake up with that sound.

Jamil: How did you came with the idea of ussing an electrical pressure cooker instead of an alarm clock...?

Silver: I can't just rely on tools, but... I think it's necessary for me now.

Jamil: It was a nice feast². It's a delicate matter to know how much of technology you can use, but it was an edible taste.

Silver: It wasn't a complete vistory but I did scape the situation of a miserable failure?... Let's continue to devote ourselves.

Ghost Chef: Good work! You did it without falling asleep until the end.

Silver: Ah, speaking of which. I want to make some tomato stew and that cabbage rolls father taught me. Did I forgot my drowsiness on the way because I was thinking about that?

Ghost Chef: Imagine the faces of people who will eat deliciously and think "I'll do my best to make it today!"

Silver: I see... cooking is the most important way of thinking.

1 — That could be a literal translation of the expression, what the ghost Chef means is that if Silver worries too much, things won't have the desired result.

2 — What he literally said was 「ごちようちま」 [Gochiyôchima] which is literally translated as "Feast" and is a polite way of thanking or complimenting to your host about food.

ー・Φ・ー

「Part 1 here」

I just have a comment: I cried with this translation and with Silver's voice lines which I will translate tomorrow 'cause I haven't slept in 24 hours.

The love he has for Lilia is bigger than anything in the world. Even bigger than his narcolepsy and, as I felt with his voice lines, is bigger than his very own memories from before meeting Lilia.

[shiroi---kumo]

@regnantlight​ asked:

"You once asked me about my home, Hyrule..." Zelda's voice was quiet against the soft night air. The fire had simmered into a light, warm bed of embers. The Prince had suggested she sleep, but her thoughts were awake, and they drifted gently between them as she spoke.

"It is a beautiful place. There is none like it in all world." There was a sad, nostalgic edge to her voice where pride and joy should have been. She told the Prince of its varied landscape, of its surrounding kingdoms like the Zora Domain and Gerudo, of its food and culture and ancient temples.

"...and so much of it," she admitted in a soft whisper, "has been reduced to ruins and shambles. There are days when I feel as though I no longer know my own home. The Hyrule I left a century ago is long gone...but, I think, the Hyrule that has grown in its place is beautiful in its own right. Perhaps you will see it one day."

Somehow he’s always getting lost in her words. A beautiful fantastical place like none other. Unlike anything he’s found within the space of Wonderland, and unlike he thinks he ever will - or at least so he hopes. He doesn’t want to see her world in any other way than actually visiting himself. It sounds like something out of a dream and he finds himself wondering if she would think the same of Misterica.  If she would think the same of his island high cities and and the tall buildings craved out of mammoth crystals. 

What would she think of his pastel skies and standing eye level with the clouds themselves? Would that be fantastical to her? He supposes it probably would when one is not used to such a thing. There are still all kinds of wonders he’s still finding within the space of this world - and he must admit that this place - this Wonderland could be quite beautiful when you ignored the truth of it all. 

He listens to her intently with a life sparkling behind jade eyes even as the fire slowly dies down and leans to lift a hefty stick from the ground to stir the embers around in order to rouse the flames back to life. 

But the conversation shifts as her eyes do. Her tone drops with her enthusiasm and he can feel her emotions lingering in the air. He can feel how lost she feels. He can feel the ache of her loss and in turn it makes his own heart ache for his own loss. 

So he moves, different from he normally would, to cross over the short distance between them - lifting himself from his seat to place himself back down so he’s setting just off to her right side. Mask still fixed upon his face his posture shifts and the look in his eyes falls down to a somber shimmer he hasn’t quite displayed to her yet before. He’s told her of Misterica but he’s never told her what’s become of it. He’s told her of his nightmares and how his mind would play cruel tricks on him and force him to watch his world crumble before his eyes but never once had he confirmed to her that those were no mere nightmares but instead his memories. 

“I too.” He sounds as his voice drops into a softer than his usual tone.

“I too fear I do not know Misterica as I once did. I have spoke to you - of my nightmares in the past. Of course I have seen my home crumble before my eyes countless times within the space of my dreams but I have not been honest about such things. They are more my memories than nightmares and it was one of the reasons I do not wish to sleep. 

Misterica had always been filled with ruins, I loved to explore them when I could get away - but ruins is all it is now. There is one small fragment of it within the space of Wonderland but other than that small island and myself - that is all that remains.  I can bring you to it if you ever wish to see it, but as for your Hyrule - to the Celestial Mother I pray that it has not been met with the same fate as my home once did. So I hope - I hope that we can find a way to get you back to your home. It sounds like such a beautiful place is in need of it’s beautiful princess. Your family must be worried about you... ” 

[samstree]

splash of the waves, and the sand castle crumbles (2)

(geraskier, prince!jaskier, fairytale elements, angst with a happy ending, insecurities, jaskier whump, chest pain, 4.8k)

Geralt discovers that being with a prince comes at a price. Jaskier deals with some bad news.

previous: [1], read on AO3

A big thanks to my amazing beta @wanderlust-t!! 💖💖

Geralt will always come second in Jaskier’s heart.

As he sinks into the soft mattress and gathers the prince into his arms, the realization becomes ever so clear.

His fingers find those faint freckles on Jaskier’s back, the ones he can already trace by heart without looking. The press of Jaskier’s body nuzzles into his. The clamminess from their earlier passion makes the closeness a little uncomfortable, but Geralt can’t seem to find the strength to pull away.

Instead, he moves closer to Jaskier to observe him carefully.

The prince has this look on his face that Geralt never liked, one that suggests he’s lost somewhere far away, so Geralt brushes a strand of stray hair away to guide those blue eyes back to the presence.

“What are you worrying about?”

“Huh?” The corners of Jaskier’s eyes crinkle when he snaps out of the trance. “Nothing, um—court happenings. Valdo has received news on the investigation in Cintra.”

“About the assassination?”

“Dead end, again.” Jaskier chews his lips. “No concrete proof that it was ordered by Calanthe, nothing except for some whispers you stumbled upon in a tavern. Valdo is looking elsewhere now.”

Geralt tilts his head in sympathy, hating the idea of the prince living with one more potential threat lurking in the dark. “How can I help?” he asks.

“You stopped them. I reckon that’s plenty.” Jaskier leans in, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “I won’t bore you with grim details, my dear. But perhaps…distract me? If you truly want to help.”

So Geralt presses his lips everywhere he can reach. One on the crown of Jaskier’s head, another at his hairline, and then on those already kiss-swollen lips, so enticing in the candlelight.

The prince responds eagerly, his deft fingers roaming across Geralt’s chest and provoking him with the softest touch, soothing and aggravating the ache deep within him. A surprised giggle escapes Jaskier’s lips as he catches Geralt’s hand trailing down under the cover.

“Really? Again?” the prince threads their fingers together and pulls Geralt’s hand away, subtly interrupting his not-so-subtle attempt. “The way you screamed my name earlier, my dear, I thought you would pass out from the sheer intensity of it. Witcher stamina or not, you can’t possibly still want more.”

“I don’t… scream.”

The defense is so weak that Jaskier’s grin breaks out in amusement. He continues to kiss Geralt’s knuckles with the utmost care, but the ache in his stomach still simmers.

Geralt groans with frustration.

“What is it?” Jaskier, ever so perceptive, notices his turmoil. The bliss on his face soon turns into concern and Geralt regrets ever letting on his emotions. “Talk to me, darling. It’s okay.”

“I—” Geralt realizes how silly it would sound, but Jaskier is waiting for an answer. “Tonight is the first time I’ve seen you since Ellander. Since the striga.”

“Since you accepted my hand in marriage.” Jaskier places an open-mouthed kiss on the scar on Geralt’s neck. “Darling, I wish I could have stayed with you at the temple. You know I do, but there was—”

“The coup at the border. I understand.” Geralt chastises himself for even bringing it up. He remembers how tired Jaskier looked after riding day and night to reach Temeria, how attentive he was when it came to nursing his injuries. “Uh—forget I said anything. You had to go, Jask. It’s fine.”

He also remembers when the urgent message came four days after they were betrothed and the sinking feeling in his stomach to watch Jaskier leave—albeit reluctantly. At the time, the prince kissed him so fiercely, his touch lingering on the signet ring he left on Geralt’s finger. Jaskier repeated his promise so many times, to return to him as soon as possible.

Geralt remembers the disappointment when he didn’t.

“It’s not fine.” Jaskier looks almost sad. “It’s never fine to leave you when you are hurt. It’s never fine to break my promise to you. Geralt, don’t you know you are my whole world? It’s my job to take care of you. Of course, you have every right to be angry with me.”

Except you also have to take care of the whole world.

Literally.

The world will always take precedence over a mere witcher.

“I missed you, that’s all.” Strangely, the admission lifts a weight off his chest. “I’m not angry with you for wanting to keep your people safe.”

“You aren’t?”

“I just—” Geralt’s stomach churns at the uncertain look on Jaskier’s face. “I just want to be with you, all of you. For more than four days at a time.”

“You have me.” Jaskier scrambles onto his elbow, not quite letting go of Geralt’s hand. “I’m here, all of me.”

“For tonight.”

“And tomorrow, and every day after.” He presses another kiss to the ring. “You’ll see, starting tomorrow morning. No more coups. I’ll stay with you when the tailors come over. Knowing how much you hate choosing designs and having people fuss all over you, it’d be cruel if I didn’t. It’s important that my husband looks dashing on his wedding day.”

“Hmm.”

The word husband is all it takes. Geralt finds himself drawn to Jaskier’s blinding smile, like a moth to a flame.

It should scare him, the thought of binding himself to someone. A witcher is not meant to stay at one place, with one person. And yet, Jaskier promised him the freedom to return to the path anytime as well as a seat at the Aedirnian court as the prince’s husband.

Because that’s the kind of person Jaskier is. When he’s in, he’s all in. In both his political life and with Geralt, Jaskier is ever so consistent. When he’s with Geralt, it’s like he’s only existing for the man in front of him, only in the here and now, as if his sun rises and falls with the tiniest sign of happiness on Geralt’s face. And yet, when he’s away…

It’s the world and the people the crown prince has sworn to protect.

It’ll always be the world before him.

Always second.

Geralt rubs the pad of his thumb on the signet ring, the proof of Jaskier’s devotion. The weight on his ring finger has become so comforting in Jaskier’s absence.

Maybe it’s enough. He has witnessed how Jaskier gives an ocean of love eagerly and unreservedly, to his work and his music. If Jaskier’s heart is willing to spare him anything like he’s someone worth loving, worth keeping, it’s enough.

Geralt drifts off with the prince soft and pliant, draped all over him.

And he wakes up to a cold bed, the familiar scent of citrus soap still faint on the sheets. Resting on the pillow, where tousled brown hair should be is a note scribbled in haste.

My darling witcher,

I must ride out before dawn as a riot has broken out near the settlement. It seems that men’s prejudice has not only made them seethe with hatred, but ruined our time together as well.

Forgive me for my absence, and for not having the courage to wake you before I leave.

Remember that I love you. I love you.

I love you,

J.

Geralt’s grip tightens around the paper before letting go of it with resignation.

Perhaps he has made peace with being second in Jaskier’s heart. He just wishes the proof is not so solid in ink.

*

Geralt stops in his tracks when he sees Valdo Marx standing outside the kitchen, his blonde curls shining even in the low candlelight. There’s a tankard of wine casually held in his palm.

“Well, isn’t this the White Wolf himself?” The lord flicks a strand of hair out of his face, checking the witcher up and down. “What brings you here so late at night?”

“Could ask you the same,” Geralt doesn’t want to converse with the man for too long. Every time he speaks with Marx, the lord always hides an edge in his words that makes the witcher uneasy. “And Geralt is fine, as I said last time.”

“Of course, how can I forget the name of the man who captured our Prince Julian’s heart. For so many years, he thought of marriage as a mere joke. A songbird is not to be caged, he said, or he will be forever songless. Julian was ever so dramatic on this matter. But that’s before you swooped in and suddenly he’s reduced to a lovestruck fool. It’s always Geralt this, Geralt that, even before the ball.” Valdo leans against the doorframe, squinting and scrutinizing.

“You are in a chatty mood, my lord,” the witcher dismisses the salty comment and walks toward the door. “Excuse me for not having the time. I’m only here to fetch Jaskier some food.”

“No need.” Valdo puts a hand on Geralt’s elbow to stop him from entering the kitchen. The smell of alcohol is strong around him. “I’ve ordered the maid to prepare something to be brought up. I know Julian must have slept through dinner. How is he now?”

Geralt hums. The too-familiar tone with which Valdo speaks of Jaskier has always put him off, as well as the hand that’s currently resting on his arm. Even though the urge to shake the man off is palpable, Geralt is determined to remain civil to the most important member of Jaskier’s council.

“His heart acted up earlier. It’s fine now. But he’s still resting.”

“From the fatigue, I imagine.” Valdo releases Geralt’s arm, his face falling. “The riot was a real pain in the neck. The people living near Dol Blathanna have been displeased since the settlement started, but one that lasts a fortnight is a first. Julian barely slept a wink. He was dead on his feet by the end of it.”

And now he’s just woken up, waiting for Geralt to return.

“I should go if you have everything sorted—”

“Do you know how dangerous it got at one point? How out of control the situation was?” Valdo’s piercing eyes meet Geralt’s, his tone demanding. “How come you, the deadliest witcher and Julian’s betrothed, were not at his side protecting him?”

“Jaskier never wanted me involved. I assume the Butcher won’t be good for his looks.”

“You would be more stupid than I thought I you believed that bullshit,” Valdo curses loudly. “He wanted to propose after meeting you twice, even though his whole council was against the idea. And you think he’s ashamed of you? No, he’s leaving you out of everything to protect you.”

Geralt frowns, but the lord continues.

“He cares so much about your stand, your neutrality or whatever moral code your kind holds on for dear life. He believes accepting his hand has already compromised your beliefs—as if marrying a prince is such a chore—so he won’t ask your loyalty to Aedirn. He won’t ask you to fight for him.”

The bitterness in Valdo’s voice is nothing compared to the bile that rises up in Geralt’s throat.

“If I was with him…”

“He’d be safer. The guards can’t always stand between him and danger, as your first meeting has already proved.”

The lord’s jaw tightens before downing the content of his cup. The silence hangs in the quiet night.

As much as Geralt dislikes Valdo’s snarky remarks and jabs, he cannot bring himself to hate the man. His devotion to Jaskier is unmatched even amongst his closest advisors, let alone the fact that they were childhood friends.

Even when no one supported Jaskier, Valdo was there. And for that, Geralt will forever be grateful. Even though a witcher never answers to nobles, perhaps an explanation is owed to Valdo Marx.

“I am loyal to Jaskier if that’s your concern.” Geralt says in earnest. “He has my sword, even though I’m no knight.”

Valdo crosses his arms, the tankard still in his hand and tipping sideways. A drop of red liquid hits the floor.

“Good. If you have to marry our prince, you might as well take your duty of serving him more seriously. Although only the gods know why he chose you over so many more deserving.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at the bitterness in that statement.

“Like a court advisor? A politician of the highest rank?” he stares down at the other man. “A long-time friend, maybe?”

No surprise flashes across the other man’s eyes, but being a lord his whole life means anything can be hidden under the calm surface.

He does let out a tight laugh, the wine loosening his tongue. “The whole continent will know before Julian.” He shakes his head, mumbling something incoherent. “Did you know he started to sing because of me? I took lute lessons one summer in Cidaris. I was eight and Julian was two years younger, and what do you know! He was better than me within six months. Ha! With talent like that, it’s a shame princes aren’t allowed to be bards.”

Geralt feels equally proud and jealous to hear the childhood tale. Jaskier has not talked about his relationship with Valdo much, apart from the fact that both of them were extremely competitive growing up. Although it is not difficult to imagine if a six-year-old Jaskier was as infuriatingly persistent as he is now.

“Are you to flaunt how well you know him again?” Geralt almost scowls. “How you know him better than anyone because you’ve known him for two decades longer?”

“I should remind you, witcher, that I’m also friends with people more powerful beyond your imagination. Mages who can dispose of a witcher with the snap of a finger.” Valdo straightens his back as if it’ll make him more imposing. “Julian may never listen to me on the matter of his marriage, but if you ever harm a hair—”

“What’s left of me will only be found in the deepest dungeon of Aedirn, I know.” Geralt holds his gaze steadily. These threats would be laughable if not so tiring. “No need to repeat yourself so many times, my lord.”

The promise hangs in the air. Just when Valdo Marx opens his mouth again, they are interrupted by soft footsteps padding from the other end of the hallway.

“Geralt? What’s taking so—Oh, Valdo.” Jaskier blinks while turning the corner, his sleep-rumpled hair sticking to all directions. His nightshirt is all wrinkled and unbuttoned halfway down, revealing thick chest hair. A soft woolen robe is draped around the prince’s shoulders. “Why are you still here? It’s so late, just go home already.”

And Valdo Marx, wordsmith and seasoned politician, is spluttering.

“I—Julian.” The other lord bows, way too formally, and clears his throat. His eyes are darting all over the place, avoiding the unkept picture of the prince. His already flushed face is turning a bright red. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. That is…um, why I stayed.”

“I’m fine, just tired.” Jaskier rubs at his heart in the guise of adjusting the shirt. “Now will you go? You did so well, as always. You deserve some rest.” Despite the weariness in Jaskier’s eyes, a hearty smile lights up his face, and Geralt hears Valdo’s breaths catch.

“If you say so, Julian.” The lord nods before taking his leave, throwing another stern look over his shoulder at the witcher, only to avert them when Jaskier drops all pretense and burrows into Geralt’s embrace with his back to the exit. The clicking of Valdo’s heels fastens almost desperately.

Geralt would have sympathized with the man if he didn’t have something much more important to take care of.

“Are you really fine?” Geralt asks quietly, frowning when Jaskier’s freezing hands press against the nape of his neck, and the prince shakes his head faintly.

“Not when you’re held up for so long, darling. I’m still waiting for my late-night snack,” Jaskier mumbles into the crook of Geralt’s neck.

“It’ll be brought up in a minute.”

“You are the sweetest.”

“Valdo, actually. He thought of it.”

“Oh.” Jaskier pulls away, surprised. “Have I told you that I learned the lute just to spite him, back when we were kids?”

“You can tell me now.”

The prince wraps the robe tighter around his torso and steers Geralt towards their bedroom. “It’s a great tale that ends with my sweeping triumph, my dear. If you will just follow me.”

Gladly.

Valdo’s words keep turning in Geralt’s head for the rest of the evening as he helps Jaskier with a simple meal before letting him retire again. Asleep for the second time, the prince looks uncharacteristically small, his frame swathed by the thick velvety blankets, carefully tucked around him to fend off the chills. A shadow falls under his long lashes, making Jaskier’s features appear a lot younger than he is, a fragile buttercup, even an innocent one.

But Geralt’s prince is anything but innocent. Not when he’s seen no less evil than anyone on this continent, not when he’s hurt deeply for acting against it.

Geralt wraps his body around the prince, and knows for a fact that he is willing to follow Jaskier anywhere on this journey.

*

Geralt fusses with the cuffs of his ceremonial doublet one last time when the servant rushes in.

“It’s the king,” the boy says with rounded eyes. “He just collapsed, sir. The prince is with him.”

When he gets to the other side of the castle, there must be more than a dozen people in the corridor, close friends of the royal family waiting outside of the wooden double doors. Among them is Valdo, pacing anxiously at the edge of the crowd.

There are only two heartbeats in the king’s chamber, one steady, the other one weak and erratic, like a candle in the wind.

Geralt doesn’t need to smell the decay in the air or the stale melancholy trapped in the building to know that the king is dying.

Through the closed doors, Jaskier’s soft whimpers follow the king’s hoarse murmurs. Geralt forces his heightened senses away from what must be a private moment, the last heart-to-heart Jaskier will ever have with his father. He shouldn’t intrude.

The collar is too tight. Geralt rests his hand against the door by instinct, wanting more than anything to be with Jaskier, to hold and comfort him. Waiting out here might just be the cruelest torture when Jaskier is hurting in there.

“Geralt,” Valdo interrupts the witcher’s wandering mind, “I’m sorry that it’s happening today.”

Geralt blinks at the genuine sympathy on the other man’s face. “It’s hardly about me, Valdo.”

They turn their heads towards the king’s bedchamber in unison. The young prince sitting at his father’s deathbed is the single focus of both men, of everyone standing in this corridor, and soon enough, of this entire country and all of the northern kingdoms.

“Still, I was warming up to you, witcher. It’s a shame your big day has to end like this.”

Geralt hums, and, “Thank you, my lord.”

In the dim light, Geralt’s attire appears to be a homogenous dark fabric, the embroidery easily overlooked—buttercups, threaded with the same black as the silk. Subtle, but they are there. There are hidden buttercups all over him, weaving through his color and laying claim.

Jaskier would appreciate the design. Geralt brushes his thumb over one flower sadly.

“Did he tell you already?” Valdo asks.

“About what?”

“The investigation.”

A frown creases between Geralt’s brows. “I thought you couldn’t trace it back to Calanthe? That there was no proof.”

“Because it wasn’t her. Think about it. Since when has Calanthe resorted to a shady kill like this in the past? The Lioness was angry at our prince and she was vocal about it, but you’d think she’d just charge across the Yaruga with a sword in her hand,” the blonde man snorts. “We were looking the wrong way.”

“Jaskier never told me.” Geralt stands there, dumbfounded.

“He was protecting you. Again.”

Annoyance licks up in Geralt’s chest, burning for answers. “What is the truth, then? You have no inclination of doing the same, Valdo. Just tell me.”

The lord drags the witcher away from the murmuring crowd and lowers his voice in secrecy. “We were overthinking it by assuming it was an elaborate plan, but it hit me one day. How can we be so blind when it’s right in front—”

“Out with it.” Geralt grits his teeth and finally the noble sighs and ceases stalling.

“A friendly fire.”

“The poisonous arrow was friendly.” Geralt deadpans.

“When it was sent by someone who only wished to deter Julian from furthering his plans and angering every other king in the north by siding with the elves. Someone who arranged an attempt on his life only to scare him off, but didn’t anticipate the one million things that could go wrong on the day.” Valdo sends a heavy look to the closed double door. “Someone dear to Julian. Someone who has regretted the decision since.”

Geralt feels like all air has been punched out of his lungs. His knuckles crack and his nails are close to drawing blood from the palm. It’s because of Valdo’s hand halting him in place that Geralt is not charging into the room.

“His own father…” Geralt murmurs, suddenly all strength saps from his body and he just wants to get Jaskier out of this damned place, away from the man who’s supposed to support him but instead almost took his life. “I need to go in.”

“Don’t. These people will know something’s wrong. This cannot get out,” Valdo hisses. Down the hall, a few lords and ladies are already throwing them some curious looks.

“Jaskier knows this,” Geralt says, shaking off the buzzing in his ears.

“And he’s made his peace with it, and now they are spending their last moments together. Your anger, or mine, is—”

The double doors open with a creak, and there Jaskier is, eyes red-rimmed but his back straight.

“—pointless.”

Valdo completes the sentence but Geralt pays no mind. When he reaches Jaskier’s side with a few quick strides, there’s no other heartbeat inside the room, only silence. His world narrows down to the thrumming in Jaskier’s chest.

The palpitation is unmistakable. Fluttering dangerously.

So is the stench of overpowering pain, mixed with the distinct citrus floral scent that is Jaskier and the never-ending decay of a sick old man. Geralt almost gags.

“The king is dead,” the prince announces the tragedy. A few nobles reply with kind words. It all fades into background noises.

Geralt’s gaze fixes on the man he’s supposed to marry this very day, and watches as Jaskier bites into his lips when another quiver happens upon the spasming muscles of his heart like the wings of a hummingbird. A lady reaches out to offer condolences, so Jaskier takes her hands and thanks her. His features reveal nothing.

The paleness could be taken as a result of grief, the tremor as well. The guests remain blissfully oblivious to the agony their prince is in, and one by one they come to him and linger.

But Jaskier’s agony cannot escape Geralt’s eyes, not when he’s the one most intimate to those heartaches that have been with Jaskier since the day they met. A sheen of sweat gathers at Jaskier’s forehead, his lips pursed into a tight line, but the prince won’t show any weakness to these people. Instead, he stands tall and proud, stubborn like the first dandelion in the spring, blossoming where the wind is cruel and the soil still frozen.

“Julian,” Valdo calls out the name like a prayer.

“I need you, Valdo.” Jaskier’s voice cracks, the first outward indication of discomfort. “We’ve found ourselves in the most precarious situation, and I—”

Jaskier breaks off for air, squeezes his eyes shut to ride out a chill down his spine. Geralt catches the prince by the elbow and instantly Jaskier leans into the support.

“I will make the arrangement for you, my prince,” Valdo replies when the prince schools his expression back to normal and gives out a trusting smile.

“I depend on you, all of you,” Jaskier addresses the crowd, “for the future of this land we share. But now it’s time for me to grieve, my good people. Allow me some privacy and time with my husband.”

The slip goes unnoticed when the lords and ladies are led out and the only people left are Geralt, Valdo and Jaskier himself. The prince lets out a labored gasp, staggers, and sags against Geralt’s chest like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Shit. Jask—” Geralt scrambles to keep him up but Jaskier drops like a leaf in the wind and they both end up on the floor in a heap of limbs. He looks to Valdo in desperation.

“I’ll get the healer. Julian, please hang on.” The other man’s hand lingers by Jaskier’s wrist before he hurries away, but the prince seems unaware.

And it’s just them, alone on their wedding day.

Jaskier’s ragged breathing echoes in the empty hallway and Geralt has never felt more helpless in his long life. The prince’s face crumbles in agony and his body won’t stop shaking.

“Hey, just look at me.” Geralt places Jaskier’s cheek against his shoulder so their gazes meet, the cornflower blue not responding. “Why do you need to be so stubborn? Damn you, Jaskier…”

“You are wea—wearing buttercups, Geralt. Look—” A boneless hand comes up to caress the dark embroidery on Geralt’s collar, Jaskier’s eyes sparkle with fascination before a tremor racks his body again and contorts him into a writhing mess.

“Shh. Don’t talk, Jask. Save your strength.”

Geralt’s words are drowned in fear, and he can only wrap a steady hand around Jaskier’s cold, clammy one and hold it over the prince’s frantic heart in the hope of easing the tightly wound muscles underneath.

“But…but I’m all over you. Like you are all over me. See?” Jaskier squeezes Geralt’s fingers and that’s when he notices the wolf pattern sewn into Jaskier’s sleeve for the first time, silver thread against white. A perfect symmetry between them.

Despite himself, the corners of Geralt’s lips tug into a sad smile, and it is soon returned by Jaskier. His eyes well up in the process. From the physical strain or grief, Geralt isn’t sure.

“I don’t need it to know that I’m yours, my prince. Now and always.”

Where Jaskier bit into his lips earlier seeps with crimson, a stark contrast against his bloodless complexion, the look in his eyes dreamy and far-away.

“My knight in shining armor. My savior.” Jaskier says in earnest before something dawns in his eyes and devastation sets in. A whimper chokes in his throat. “You, Geralt…Will you betray me too? Even…my own father. The person closest to me. But how can he? How—”

The prince squirms against Geralt’s chest and struggles to take in air, his cheeks soaked wet with sweat and tears. Something twists in Geralt’s stomach powerlessly as he hears the wheezing sounds in Jaskier’s lungs.

“I won’t, Jaskier. Please,” Geralt pleads into Jaskier’s hair but it falls on deaf ears. Strings of words tumble out of his mouth, delirious and nonsensical.

“We didn’t even have the time…couldn’t even make it right. There was no time…”

Geralt shushes him and tries to calm Jaskier’s breathing by stroking his back but it only makes it worse. The deterioration is happening too fast, juxtaposed with grief and shock that Jaskier’s already weakened heart cannot handle. Geralt fears the worst.

“My father, I—they all hurt me and leave me…Like my… Don’t leave me, G’ralt—" Jaskier clings and pleads, but cannot escape the cage made out of his sorrow.

“I won’t. Not when you’ve promised the same, Jask. Stay with me. Just stay with me, please.”

He’s trying.

Jaskier is trying and failing. And it’s the last straw.

“It hurts too much.”

With that, blue eyes roll into the back of his head and Jaskier collapses in Geralt’s embrace, the column of his neck exposed with the strain and the pulse underneath faint like a whisper. His listless hand slips from Geralt’s grip and hits the floor.

Carefully as if any more force would break Jaskier’s skin, Geralt presses his lips to Jaskier’s still ones and tastes of copper and salt. He draws out the kiss like in those fairytales, like a proper true love’s kiss. When he finally pulls away, a swarm of healers and nurses are surrounding them and Geralt is pulled away by hands he doesn’t recognize.

But Jaskier doesn’t wake from the kiss.

Not like in the stories.

---

I know Jaskier isn’t having the best day but I promise this story has a happy ending. <3

Also I’m not sure who wants to be tagged for this one, but feel free to tell me ;)

[thebigqueer]

hi again ;p thanks for answer my question! so for the fic prompt im using one of my friend's prompts. "au where whatever people say about you appears on your skin. not to nicos surprise, his skin is littered with belittling phrases, “weird, quiet, emo, dark, odd.” when nico wakes up one day, he finds the word “beautiful” in wills messy handwriting." of course you don't have to do this if you don't want to but it'd be really cool if you did ;3

hiiii ahhh thanks for the prompt!! sorry it took so long, i’ve been keeping up with my own personal one-shots but i hope you like this! and, as always: i usually do little to no editing on these, so please don’t be too judgmental when reading through them since they won’t be my best work!

Nico is tired. Tired of the words, the letters, the emotions. He just wishes this entire world didn’t exist. 

They jeer at him all day, all night, every moment of the day. There aren’t a lot of words, but enough to make him frustrated with just a single glance across his arms. 

Not all of them are even that bad, to be honest. They’re merely descriptor words - “emo,” “mysterious,” “cool.” But it’s the way that he knows that people are thinking about him that makes his brain crawl with anxiety. He doesn’t want people thinking about him. 

But he knows that is almost impossible. Even he can’t help but to think about other people, judge them for what they are. It’s strange, really - as much as he hates that other people have opinions on him, he detests even more that he has his own harsh opinions of others. He supposes he can’t really stop them, but he wishes they wouldn’t appear on other people’s bodies. Even if he doesn’t like someone, he wouldn’t want them thinking badly about themselves. 

Nico supposes this is why he tries not to get too attached to people unless he knows he can trust them. He would hate to have his handwriting screaming something harsh on someone else’s body. The amount of guilt would be crushing to him. 

He thinks about this as he lies in bed, watching the sun fall smoothly across his legs. It’s about eleven in the morning, but he just can’t find the will to get up. There’s too much racing in his head, too much noise. 

He sighs and rolls over in his bed, pressing his face into the soft white pillow behind him. Closing his eyes, he tries to think of more calming, anxiety-reducing thoughts, like the flowers that some secret admirer left him on the door step or the trip he has with Will to the library later. He tries not to get too excited about that; if he thinks too much, he’ll start getting his thoughts imprinted onto Will’s skin, and then where would he be?

Nico pops an eye open again, becoming restless in the darkness behind his eyes. For a moment, he simply stares out to the white wall in front, watching it for who knows what. He needs a focal point to keep his thoughts together. 

Then, from the corner of his eye, a faint shimmering appears on his wrist. His skin tingles gently, blooming with an anxious warmth, and dread settles in Nico’s heart. He closes his eyes tight again as the tingling takes over him, marks him with words he never asked for. 

After a few moments, the sensation simmers down, and now Nico knows that he’s been permanently marked with the opinions of someone he doesn’t even want. He groans and shoves his face into his pillow again.

For a little while, Nico’s able to push back his curiosity over what’s been branded over his skin. Dread makes it easy; he doesn’t want to see what kinds of thoughts people may have about him. 

But even then, at the back of his mind, there’s a desire to know, a desire to discover. Something in his heart tells him to look over, just take a quick peak at what the handwriting looks like. 

He does his best to fight against his curiosity. But Nico’s always had a wandering mind; he can’t help himself. He throws his wrist into the sunlight and watches the words come into focus. At the sight of them, his heartbeat skips. 

Beautiful. 

A blush crawls over Nico’s face, spreading over his nose and leaking out to his ears. Someone thinks I’m beautiful? he thinks as a giddiness comes over him. He sits up suddenly to get a closer look at the handwriting, and when he does, shock spills over him. 

It’s familiar. He’s seen it before. Memories of close touches, of warm skin, of soft laughter echo in his mind. He knows who it is. 

Will Solace thinks I’m beautiful. 

[kazuyumi1412]

[Previous Course]

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

Little Chef

[Course 2]

As she combined the butter-flour mixture in the pan, Amber couldn’t help but think of Noah again. She never got an answer about what he was, and there were still so many questions that she had for him even before she accidentally scared him again.

‘Well, it’s not like I didn’t deserve it up to some point,’ she thought as she kept an eye on the roux forming in the pan. ‘I’m not going to be surprised if I don’t see him ever again after that little incident.’

She tried to keep her hopes up as best as she could as she made her cream stew. She’d already gotten everything else cooking in a pot on one of the back burners, so all she had left to do was make the béchamel sauce to combine it with. Having three or so pots on the stove seemed a bit hectic at first glance, but it wasn’t an unusual occurrence to her due to working in a restaurant. Amber slowly poured the heated milk into the roux once it was ready, making sure that it was fully combined before she added any more. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“And…there,” she said to herself as she finished up. “Just need to add it to the stew.”

Amber grabbed a ladle from nearby, scooping some of the stew broth into the béchamel sauce before incorporating the sauce mixture back into the stew. She let it simmer a little bit longer before turning off the heat and letting it cool down a bit. Grabbing two small containers, she set them side-by-side and portioned out the stew, sealing the containers and putting them in her lunch bag afterwards.

‘I hope he likes it,” she thought.

She paused for a bit as she looked at her lunch bag. Amber fiddled with the zipper, thinking back…

“Be grateful that you get to eat on their dime. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get to eat at all!”

“A cheese sandwich again? You really can’t afford to get anything else, can you?”

She opened up her lunch bag again, staring at the two containers of cream stew.

“Eat your food, honey. People worked hard to get you this meal, and I’m sure that some people dream about being in your situation.”

Was it really alright for her to be enjoying a meal like that? If there were others that dreamed about being in her situation, then what made her so special to be there in the first place? Why her?

No, not the best time to contemplate why she’s there at that point in time. She needed to head to work.

Zipping up her lunch bag again, Amber got ready for work and headed out the door, lunch bag in hand.

Work was rather uneventful that day — well, as uneventful as working in a bustling restaurant kitchen could get — and Amber continued to do the finishing touches on her cleaning. She glanced over at the pantry’s lock, curious about how it’d been acting up prior to then. Walking up to it, she closely examined the lock.

Huh. Something’s inside of it.

She tried to shake whatever was inside out of the lock, but before she could do much of anything, she heard a noise coming from behind her.

“Noah?” Amber asked. “Is that you?”

“So you’re the one that made him fear for his life,” an unfamiliar voice chastised her. “Do you know how terrified we all were?”

“We all?” — she let go of the lock and looked around for the source of the voice — “So there are more of you? Whatever you are.”

“Don’t avoid the subject! Even if what Noah did was reckless as all get out, that’s no excuse for terrorizing him!”

“Look, I didn’t mean to scare him like that. Hell, we were both pretty terrified at the time. I thought I’d have to deal with another mouse infestation! I didn’t expect to see a little person-”

“Borrower,” They cut Amber off so quickly that she could barely process what they said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re not ‘little people’, even if we are small. We’re Borrowers.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

They didn’t reply for a bit. “Anyway, what do you want with Noah? You’ve already given him enough trouble.”

Amber rolled her eyes, quickly developing a snarky tone in her voice. “Well, sorry for wanting to make up for scaring the hell out of him. I thought that he’d appreciate something that wasn’t from the scrap pile.”

“We’re fine, thank you very much. We don’t need help from-” — they trailed off, and Amber could hear sounds coming from the direction of the dishwashing area — “Hey, get back here!”

Amber looked over towards the dish racks, seeing something climbing down from it. A spider? No, too big to be a spider, and if it was one, she’d have already gotten the broom and smacked it. She got a little closer, only to see Noah rappelling down from the rack. Unfortunately, she kind of spooked him in the process, as he lost his grip when he saw how close she was to him. Thankfully, Amber was able to catch him before he cracked his skull open like an egg.

“That was close,” she said, gently setting Noah down. “If I wasn’t fast enough… Well, let’s try not to think about that for now.” — she glanced up to where the hook attached to the rope was, which turned out to just be thread and a paper clip — “How long have you and that other guy been up there?”

“Just a few minutes,” Noah told her. “I wanted to see if anyone else was here.” — his voice reduced to a quiet mutter — “You said you wanted to see me again.”

She smiled a bit when she heard that. “I’m glad you kept your promise.” — she grabbed her lunch bag, which she had set aside earlier, and brought out the second container of cream stew — “I didn’t know if you’d like it or not, but I thought that some homemade stew would be better than just cheese and a cracker.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle when he saw the container, but quickly became nervous. “I-Is it alright? For me to have some?”

“Of course—!” — Amber quickly stopped herself, knowing that she was going to spook Noah if she kept being that loud — “I mean, of course you can. The same goes for your friend. I just need to warm it up first.”

“Like I was going to say, we don’t need help from human beans like you,” the other Borrower rudely told her. “We don’t need your charity.”

Amber tried so hard to contain her laughter, but it escaped in short, sporadic chuckles as she covered her mouth with one hand. Noah seemed puzzled, while Amber couldn’t tell what the other Borrower’s expression was like.

“It’s human beings, not human beans,” She corrected them through her giggle fit.

“Whatever!” they snapped back at her. “You’re still a human bean to me! And my mind’s not going to be changed about the charity either!”

“But she made it just for us, Cay,” Noah said, “and I know that you’re tired of eating scraps too.”

“Cay?” Amber asked, puzzled.

There wasn’t a reply from the other Borrower until they heard a rough sigh accompanied by quiet footsteps. They quickly slid down the rope that Noah had used earlier, slowing down just enough at the end to make as little noise as possible on the metal counter. They had a grey cloak that was similar to Noah’s, but it was a bit shorter on their body and had a hood sewn on it. The person hiding under the cloak, however, was a whole different story. They towered over Noah, though they were still only big enough to fit in Amber’s palm, and had piercing hazel eyes accompanying well-kept red hair. Even despite their size difference, Amber couldn’t help but feel unnerved when they glared at her.

“You better hope that I’m not going to regret revealing myself like this,” They told her.

“Anyway…um…this is my brother,” Noah introduced him. “His name’s Cain, but we all call him Cay.” — he turned to his brother — “And this is Amber. I forgot what the full thing was, but that’s what she asked me to call her.”

“It’s Ambrosia,” Amber noted. “So, is it just you two? Sibling-wise. I’m just curious.”

He looked over to his brother. “Well, there’s Able too, but he’s-”

“Sprained ankle,” Cain cut him off.

Amber winced. “Yikes. I hope he gets better.”

Cain let out a huff as he looked off to the side. In any case, Amber quickly went to reheat the stew that she had brought, getting the smallest spoons that she could for the two Borrowers, which happened to be the quarter teaspoons. She set the spoons next to them and presented the stew, with it still steaming a bit from reheating it.

“Careful,” she warned them beforehand, “it’s pretty hot.”

Both Cain and Noah were hesitant at first, but they eventually took a slight bit of the stew and tasted it. While Noah’s delighted reaction was plastered all over his face, Cain looked extremely neutral.

“So…?” Amber slowly asked them. “You like it?”

“It’s amazing!” Noah beamed as he quickly took another spoonful and ate it. “I’ve never tasted anything like this before! The chunks are a little big, though.”

“I’ll try to break it up a bit more next time, but even I’ve got limits for how small I can cut things.” — she looked over at Cain, who still looked neutral — “Not even a reaction? Huh.”

Cain quickly looked her in the eyes. “If you’re trying to make me jealous of your cooking, then you’ve definitely succeeded,” he remarked.

Noah chuckled at his brother’s remark, and the two of them kept eating. Granted, there was enough stew there to feed the two of them for a few days straight, but that was probably because Amber didn’t have any smaller Tupperware to use. Either way, she was glad that they were eating something that she knew wasn’t from the scrap heap that normal people called the trash.

“You know,” she noted, “I could always teach you how to cook. Probably not gigantic meals like this,” — she paused for a second — “well, gigantic compared to you…but still something to eat.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Cain said, seeming rather suspicious of her. “You, a human bean or whatever you’re called, want to teach Borrowers like us how to cook?” — Amber nodded her head, though this seemed to make him more suspicious — “You know that we’re not supposed to interact with each other, right?”

“Well, we’re doing it right now, you rule breaker. Doesn’t make much of a difference.” — Cain stopped in his tracks, knowing that she had a point — “Anyway, I’ve got to get going, and you two should too. You can pop by tomorrow if you want.”

“I’d rather not, with Noah already being in trouble and all.” — he glanced at his brother — “It’d be best if we lay low.”

Amber knew that Cain had a point, so she let them finish up before they ran off into hiding again. Taking the teaspoons and Tupperware, she made sure to clean them before returning them to their proper places, taking the Tupperware back with her as she thought of some new recipes.

[lovestrucked-again]

Beneath the daylight moon

Chapter 4

Masterlist - Round the Robin Collab Prev

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during daytime?” Jaehyun doesn’t know, nor did he care to notice that such a thing existed; it was a mystery to him, but you were a bigger enigma.

“I can help you. And her.” Jaehyun’s eyes shifted towards the door that he had just left behind, then back to the boy gripping his arm. “But I need your help first.”

“You want me to do what?” Jaehyun questioned, the shock evident in his voice.

“You can see it right?” the boy asked in anticipation, the glint of excitement sparkling in his eye as he continued, “the string.”

“Uh,” Jaehyun hesitated, nervous how to respond, “no I can’t.”

“Did you use the flash?” the guy bounced back, moving uncomfortably close to Jaehyun, pushing his way to see the screen of his phone.                                    

“No I didn't bu-” Jaehyun frowned in frustration, “can I have my phone back?” he asked, struggling to hide his impatience and annoyance stirring up. The boy didn't respond, quickly flicking the camera app onto screen and switching it to the back camera, focusing the dot on his physical still body connected to the monitors on the hospital bed. Jaehyun stood leaning on one foot, arms crossed around his body and huffed in exasperation. Why did I even bother? He thought to himself.

“Look.”

Jaehyun grabbed the phone back without a second thought and lazily looked at the screen, not expecting anything until his jaw drops in awe, “W-What is that?” he stuttered out.

“It’s my connection to her.” The boy explained, taking a seat beside his own laid out body. Jaehyun has to rub his eyes again, afraid that he’s dreaming, seeing the two identical faces beside each other. There’s almost no difference in the complexion of their faces, if the boy lied still against his body with his eyes closed, Jaehyun was almost certain he would be unable to tell the difference. It scared him.

“To her?” Jaehyun asked, unable to comprehend everything.

“That string is connected to my soulmate.”

“Wait what?”

The boy gets up from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth between the doorway and his coma body, “I know it sounds crazy and stupid but I’ve researched this already, I’ve spent almost 4 years now, like this.” He glanced at Jaehyun for a sign of his following, “The string you just saw is connected to her.”

Jaehyun looked down at the phone in his hand, staring at the silver cord that seemed to emerge from the boy’s unconscious covered heart. He could see the string flow past out the photo frame and disappear behind the corner edge of his screen. “Where is she?” he asked, trying to interpret everything.

The boy stopped moving, clenching his fist tightly before unclasping it and turning to face the closed door, “She’s in the room next door.”

__

“Have you heard of the daytime moon?” The boy asked, leaning against the wooden bench chair and staring up into the sky.

Jaehyun’s interest perked up at the mention of the familiar term, “Yeah I have.” He takes a seat beside the boy, waiting for him to continue. The slow urgency in the boy’s movement pushes Jaehyun to carry on, “do you know what it means?”

The boy smiles to himself as he reaches his arms above his shoulder, stretching his body before sinking back into the chair, “It’s based on an old story actually.” Jaehyun has to gesture at him to keep going as the boy turns to make eye contact with him. “At the beginning the sun and moon were equal in greatness and luminance but then the moon was made to be smaller. Obviously, the moon became jealous of the sun and so she asked the universe, “Why can’t two kings wear the same crown?” The universe then replied to her “You’re not diminished, you may rule both in the day and night, you can signify the dates and years which people live by – and the sun will be given the part of seasons.”

Jaehyun thinks back to the day on the rooftop. What was the season back then? He pictured the memory of you sitting alone at the rooftop, spacing out at the sky. The wind had shaken the last few leaves on the floor of the roof around and the usual thoughts from his head had disappeared. It felt like so long ago since he had seen you and the thought just made him feel lonely.

The boy remained oblivious to the change in Jaehyun’s emotions as he carried on with his story, “So the moon was reduced to a fraction of her original size, deprived of her ability to generate her own light and reduced her luminance in the daytime – a punishment for her selfish inability to share with the sun. But, she was offered a new cycle of rebirth once a month, allowing her growth and a time for her own sparkle, but she wasn’t allowed to be restored to her original state.”

Snapping back into reality, Jaehyun leaned back up, straightened his posture and crossed a leg over, “And how does this relate to the daytime moon?” Jaehyun asked, confused how this story was related to his question.

“It’s the importance of a metaphoric belief - a give and take relationship. The sun gives its light to the moon and the moon receives and reflects the sun’s light.” Jaehyun pondered on the thought as the boy spoke, “The sun and moon were created to differentiate between night and day, between givers and takers.”

“Why would the moon feel inferior? It’s of equal importance is it not?” Jaehyun questioned after much contemplation on the belief, the difference between the moon and sun was so obvious to the universe, yet the moon just couldn't appreciate herself.

The boy nodded, giving a knowing look that left Jaehyun feeling quite exposed, as though he could see right through his simple logic. “It is, perhaps even more. The sun illuminates by illuminating, but the moon illuminates by the dark of nothingness, using the reception of another’s light. So when the sun isn’t seen, it isn’t there, but even when the moon is nothing, she is still something.”

It takes a few seconds for the information to click and sink in. Jaehyun can feel his lips form the question before he can even follow through his own thoughts, “And that makes a daytime moon?”

“Yes.”

“The daytime moon signifies a give and take relationship requiring selflessness and… well you know?” the boy chuckled, nudging his new friend beside him, “something like of a couple.”

__

As Jaehyun turned the next corner, his next step faltered. Just moments ago, the boy had taken him to see his unconscious girlfriend whose string could be seen with the same technique of a camera flash. Her lifeless body attached to multiple machinery cords. Tears came to his eyes as he recalled your body in the same hospital bed, will Y/N become as pale as her? I have to help her before it’s too late.

Technically all the boy wanted him to do was pick up a pair of scissors and cut an invisible string that only happened to be seen using through a camera flash. Jaehyun brushed the tears away hastily and entered the boy’s hospital room – his spirit already sitting beside his own body.

“There’s a pair of scissors in the bedside draw,” said the boy listlessly, “you can use those.”

Jaehyun felt that the time had really come now for making his choice. Or had his choice already been made long before? He knew he would save you no matter what. A feeling of pain crept over him as he thought of the desecration that was in store for the fair face boy.

“I-I’m sorry but I don't think I can do this.” Jaehyun stammers, backing away to the entrance of the door.

The boy visibly frowned, “Why not?” he asked, bunching the thin bed sheets in his fist, attempting to simmer his combined emotions of anger and confusion.

“This…” the words are barely heard in the empty room “it’ll be bad for you, wont it?”

The boy chuckled effortlessly, “what do you mean by bad?”

“I just feel like there’s another way to deal with this.” Jaehyun mumbled, “something better.”

“There isn’t!” exclaimed the boy, who was beginning to tense now. “I said I’ll help you if you help me.”

“I know…” he trails, desperately trying to drag the time. Jaehyun made eye contact with the boy once more, wavering. He takes a step towards the bed, finding it almost physically impossible to drag his feet across the floor. His hand finds the draw handle, pulling it towards him with much effort, and reveals a pair of simple red scissors.

His fingers glided around the cutters with much ease, but his hand, his body, shakes with an anxious unknowing feeling. Jaehyun was beginning to plead in his mind for a sign, for something to stop him. The scissors shook in his hands as he lifted the heavy weight up, hovering above the open draw, seeking for something.

Suddenly, as if someone had heard his wishes, his phone went off, vibrating in his pocket. Jaehyun drops the scissors down, patting himself down searching for the source of his saviour.

[11:34am] Johnny: Where are you?

[11:36am] Johnny: Did you bail on me?

[11:45am] Johnny: I swear if you’re with some girl right now

“I have to go.” Jaehyun said, reaching into his jacket pocket and fumbling around for his keys.

“Where are you goi-?” As Jaehyun tried to turn around the boy held him back, making him feel like he had robbed the boy of his freedom, disloyalty immediately filling in the pit of his stomach, “You said you’d help me?”

Jaehyun could only nod weakly, half-truth and half-lie to his next words, “I-I I’ll come back tomorrow.” __

Jaehyun drove off alone and watched the flashing lights of the little car in front of him. A strange sense of loss came over him. He felt the world had all of a sudden cornered him, pushed him into a hole that he had dug for himself. His eyes darkened, and the crowded flaring streets became blurred to his eyes. When he finally pulls into the apartment underground parking he sees Y/S/N walk out.

It doesn't take any effort for him to figure out the situation, having noticed the tear streaked and puffy face features as he pulled into a parking slot. A few seconds passed and Johnny ran out, following Y/S/N desperately.

“Y/S/N Wait!” Johnny cried.

Jaehyun reached for the ignition key, switched it off and slumped his forehead onto the wheel.

“No Johnny, not again.” Y/S/N repeated. Their voices bounced off the walls, echoing in the basement space.

“Just explain it to me! I just want an explanation and I’ll get out!”

Jaehyun exhaled a heavy breath which seemed to have been pent up the entire day, and as he did so, it seemed to him that he had grown years older.

Hearing a car door slam shut and his best friend’s voice die down, Jaehyun looked up and out his window. Johnny stood still, staring at a car drive out and further away. Jaehyun sighs in disbelief, why can’t there just be a day of peace?

“Johnny.” Jaehyun calls out, opening his car door to get out.

Johnny whips his head around, searching for his best friend’s voice, “Oh.” There’s a look of defeat, “Hey.”

Jaehyun doesn’t really know what to say, debating whether he should pretend nothing happened or whether he should address the poor guy’s feelings. “Are you- okay?”

“I- Yeah – I’m okay.”

Johnny takes his time walking back, dragging himself to the elevator, eyes glued to the floor as his mind shuts down in defeat. Jaehyun walked beside him, silent, mind also switched off as he pushes out the thought of tomorrow.

The silence in the elevator isn’t awkward, but the atmosphere is evidently filled with a heavy sigh. No one speaks. The bell of the lift rings, signalling them to leave and Jaehyun turns beside to look at his friend.

“Let’s go.” He murmurs

Johnny breaks out of his daze, giving a nod as he walks out and lets his feet walk to the front door of the apartment. He takes a seat on the stool bench, leaning against the island bench as he plays absentmindedly with the ring on his finger.

Jaehyun spares a glance behind his shoulder, looking at his friend slumping his shoulders, no words, face drained from the usual energy he had. He sighed as he closed the fridge door, placing a bottle of water in front of his friend.

“About Y/S/N…”

Johnny instantly looks up, surprised that Jaehyun has mentioned the name.

The look of desperation in his eyes pains Jaehyun as he continues, “sorry to break it to you but Y/S/N has a lot on her plate.” He rubs his temples as if this were giving him another headache, and Johnny looks at him with a harsh irritation.

Flashes of emotion crossed Johnny’s face, a mixture of jealousy and confusion, “What?”

“Y/S/N –” how to tell him? “She- She has a child.”

The shock is evident in Johnny’s voice, “D-Did you say a child?” he looked around in disbelief, avoided making eye contact with Jaehyun, “How do you know this?” Johnny’s eyes narrowed on his friend, and he crossed an arm over his chest.

“We’re neighbours, she lives across from me,” Jaehyun continued to list, playing with the bottle cap of his own water, “we talk.”

“…oh,”

Jaehyun has never pushed Johnny to do anything. While they have always been good friends, he was always conscious of the fact that Johnny is older. He had always respected his friend. “I don't think now’s a good time to be trying again.”

“No,” Johnny stumbled through his sentence, “I-I can’t just leave her like that,” his heart broke as he continued, “not with that asshole of a guy.”

It crossed Jaehyun’s mind that perhaps the relationship of his older friend would be something incomprehensible to him, but he ignores it. “You weren’t in her life for the past few years Johnny, you can’t just waltz back in now.” he mumbled. Johnny had stopped fuming, and when he looked at his friend, he just sounded tired. He lowered his eyes in shame, and Jaehyun shook his head, “Y/S/N doesn't deserve that.”

As Jaehyun left the room, Johnny stared at the bottle of water placed in front of him, thinking back to what he did wrong so long ago. And why it would forever be left unrepairable. ____

You took the long route home that day, wondered if Jaehyun had actually come to see you in hospital. At the corner of the local flower shop, a man passed you in the mist, walking very fast and with the collar of his black jacket turned up. He had a bag in his hand. You recognised the man. It was Johnny. A strange sense of fear came over you. You made no sign of recognition (not that he’d see you anyway) and went on quickly in the direction of your house, walking faster than before, thinking about your sister and her ex.

Your mind flashed back to that day.

It seemed Y/S/N and Johnny would’ve lasted till marriage, till old. Johnny would constantly roam around your shared apartment with your sister. You’d hear her voice and her heavy laughter in the room beside yours. You’d see the two of them walking hand in hand around the small space, standing beside each other as they cooked. They were inseparable.

That day was different. You hadn’t seen Johnny for weeks now and you would only see glimpses of your sister around the place. She’d stay in her room and it would be completely silent. However, she went out that night, only making it known to you when you heard the sound of a male’s voice late at night.

At first you thought it was Johnny and you became excited, ready to barge into their room to say hi after so long. But the moment you reach the bedroom door you halt. You can hear your sister whispering and the deeper male voice. It wasn’t Johnny’s though, and it wasn't anyone else’s that you recognised. You took a step back, running into your own room as you realised what was happening.

Jaehyun notices you from afar, almost running towards him. However, you don't see him, determination and concern for your sister clouding your vision. It’s not until Jaehyun realises you’re about to completely past him that he calls out for you.

His hand feels cold against your skin as he stops you by the arm, “Johnny,” you huffed, telling him the crucial points, unable to connect the words into a sentence, “I-I… Y/S/N.”

Jaehyun lets his hand fall, having guessed Johnny would’ve left the apartment not long after himself. “Yeah, I know.”

You looked up at him, having caught your breath “What?”

He helps you steady yourself, “Y/S/N’s not home at the moment, I saw her drive off before.”

“Not home? Where is she going?” You followed, anxiety building up again.

“I don't know, maybe visiting you.” He lies, trying to lead you back to the apartments.

However, this only panicked you more, “Really? But she came yesterday.” You turned around, already speed walking back the direction you came from, “somethings wrong.” You mumbled, mind working already thinking what must have gone wrong.

“Wait Y/N!” Jaehyun calls out, following after you, “Where are you going?”

“Back to the hospital.” You stated, “If she’s coming to visit me today something must be wrong, she only comes on weekends.” Your minds working in a frenzy and you can barely concentrate on anything else. Could it be something related to her boyfriend? To your nephew?

“Y/N!” Jaehyun called again.

You didn't hear him though, determined to get back and see your sister. Jaehyun doesn’t have the strength left to chase after you, dreading the thought of visiting the hospital yet again. Instead he watched you leave. ___

It was almost midnight by the time Jaehyun finally had the chance to lay down in his bed. He hadn���t texted Johnny about earlier, hadn’t seen you since you had run off, hadn’t even had a chance to eat dinner with his Grandma. The past 24 hours seemed to have felt like weeks and he thought how nice it finally was, to be able to hear his own breath. He decided to think of the day as just a hurdle to pass, a necessity to be able to wish for something better.

With that thought, he eventually fell asleep.

The boy laughed, and when he did his head twitched strangely a couple of times, “Get out of here. I don't want to see you.”

“Just come with me,” Jaehyun begged, “I’ll help you figure something else out.”

The boy’s face suddenly hardened into anger and his words shot out in a rage. “Just shut up! You lied to me! We made a deal, it was so fucking simple. If you wanted to act like a goddamn hero then you should’ve done something about it!”

Jaehyun could only stand there speechless. The boy was just a mere stranger to him, not even in flesh, yet the words felt so harshly true, “I-Sorry…”

“It’s all your fault she’s dead! You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve saved her. But no! You had to run away and become a coward. You only care about yourself!” The boy’s face had coloured to a deep red, and spit flew from his mouth as he yelled. He started taking lumbering steps forward, his hands balled into fists as he stepped closer to Jaehyun.

“L-Look I,” He was only a few feet away, Jaehyun took a step backwards, his guilt now turning into fear.

“I only asked for one fucking thing!”

Jaehyun took two more steps back, “I-”

“And now you killed Y/N too!” The boy screamed and rushed forward.

He stirred in his sleep, waking in an instant as the dream disappeared. A glance outside let him know the moon was still out. He sat up, leaning against the bedframe before reaching for his phone. 4:38am.

After about ten minutes he got up, and throwing on a pair of simple shorts passed into the tile paved bathroom. The cool water refreshed him after his dreadful sleep. He shivered under the water and sighed heavily. Another nightmare about you. A dim sense of having taken part in some strange tragedy came to him once or twice, but there was the unreality of a dream about it.

As soon as he was dressed, Jaehyun went to the rooftop and sat down to the brightness of the starry dark morning. The warm air seemed laden with fresh scents. The silence that surrounded his home added to the beauty of a new day.

The dream was just a spook he reasoned, yet he struggled to accept the reality part of it. Deep down, Jaehyun was already contemplating the possibilities if he chose not to return and help the boy in hospital. He promised to go back today and his nightmare was a glimpse of the consequences he’d encounter if he broke that promise. ___

You awake that same morning to find yourself not in the same room as you usually would be in. The light shade of pastel blue walls which once surrounded your hospital bed now changed into stained dulls of white walls.

The numbness of sleep slowly fades and the first thing that surprises you is the tiny needles poking into your arms. You gasp in a breath only to find nothing coming in and the obstacle of your own dry tongue. The lack of oxygen descending on your mind caused you to panic and in desperation you sucked in another breath. Your body feels heavy as you sit up quickly, your fingers immediately searching for the bed sheets to help you up from your physical laid body.

“What’s going on?” You mumbled, noticing the unusual amount of nurses flooding your surroundings. You look around for anyone familiar, searching for your usual doctor and nurse. There’s a heavy atmosphere looming in the hospital room and you ignore it, exiting the commotion.

“Y/N?”

The voice stopped you from walking further, turning around to face the only person who could see your roaming spirit.

“Jaehyun? What’s going on?” you asked, assuming he knew.

“You- Your body.” He stuttered not sure how to start his sentence “it’s shutting down.”

You paused, falling against the side of the doorway and holding onto the wall for support, “Am I dying?”

[leerongrong]

Your Baby?

Pairing: Nct Dream x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You and Mark have been best friends ever since childhood, staying by each others’ side even after he became a Worldwide Idol. When he finally introduces you to his members, who think you’re older than you actually are, what a mistake.

A/N: my first fic lmao i’m soo nervouss, also shout out to my girl @neoculturalshit​ for handling my shit while writing this

Shoe sole squeaking fills the air with the constant jagged breaths and stuffy humidity coming from the room, intensified with multiple voices mixing in with groans. Mark’s rambles are like mumbling in your ear, replaced with constant buzzing like bees and an unfamiliar feeling resting in your belly. Your bag is on your left shoulder, clutched between stiff fingers as you try to keep up with his fast footsteps.

His twelve a.m to twelve p.m schedule and your eight a.m to eleven p.m schedule proved hard enough keep up with. In between his dance practices, studio recording and your everyday micro engineering studies, there was only little time to catch the other without one having to run off in between hangouts. And even then, Mark always had the dreamies call on him about some unforeseen circumstances that’ll make him leave you all alone.

He’s been apologizing ever since the last time he left you, albeit in a super creepy rooftop at midnight, and wouldn’t stop until you brought on the idea of introducing the dreamies as an apology and here you are now, in SM entertainment heading straight to the practice room where you’ll meet them for the first time. And on the contrary, you feel more scared than excited.

“And there’s Chenle. He’s like realllyyy loud but like really funny and he has this dolphin laugh that’ll make you- Are you even listening right now?”

“Mark, i’m scared.” Saying it out loud makes you feel like a baby, some helpless child afraid of going to their first day of kindergarten, afraid they won’t have any friends or anyone to talk to. You’re embarrassed for feeling this way but right now you have Mark and he knows you. The best out of everyone in your whole life, “what if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you,” he chuckles, “If anything, you’ll be the one begging Chenle to shut up.”

Your entire walk there had remained quiet, an occasional quip here and there from Mark whenever he sees you still so stiff. He had done a good job at getting rid of your initial fear, the feeling reducing until all that’s left is jitters and a bit of shyness. Despite your previous fear of them, you still wanted to meet them and become friends, it doesn’t matter if one of them doesn’t like you, you’d at least add one more person to your mark’s-friends-that-became-yours-too list.

“You stay here, aight? I’m gonna gather them first.” He nods to your direction before opening the door and going inside. You hear him greet multiple people, the noise inside exploding with screams and laughter. The nerves come at full force and suddenly your feet feel like jelly and the constant reassurance from mark has lost its grip on you.

The weather outside has calmed down significantly. The storm has reduced itself to raindrops pelting down the window, the constant patter doing nothing to calm you down. Your heart is beating erratically inside your chest and you have to thank Mark for his timing because you feel you’d have burst if he hadn’t come out faster.

All eyes are on you the moment you step in.

Multiple lights shine down the wide room, creating an illusion that it’s bigger than it already is. Gray walls surrounding the space loom high and act as pillars to hold up the entire architecture. your eyes move to the corner where there are an abundant of water bottles looking as if they were thrown messily along with multiple bags, one you recognize as Mark’s.

You’re broken out of your trance when mark leaves your side and crosses the room to the corner, effectively grabbing his bag and water bottle from where they lay. You see him exchanging a few words with the choreographer before he makes a beeline for the door just behind you.

“Where are you going?” You snatch his bicep in a tight grip, frowning when you see him slowly chuckle.

“I have a recording session with the hyungs,” he mumbles, “But i’ll be back in 3 hours?”

Mark flinches when your grip tightens, said boy visibly shrinking under your gaze. “mark lee, i swear-”

“They’re really nice! i promise!”

“I don’t care if they’re nice or whatever. You’re not leaving me-”

“Noona, watch us dance!” The voice breaks you and Aark from your whispering match. You turn your head, only to have Mark break away from your grip and run out of the room at full speed leaving you to stare at his retreating form with a face full of disbelieve. “Don’t worry about hyung, he’ll be back soon!”

The dreamies all surround you, each one introducing themselves in their own unique way. Your heart’s still beating erratically as you try to learn and differentiate their names and personalities, making a mental note in your brain; Jeno’s the shy one with an adorable eye smile, Donghyuck or Daechan is the tan one with a knack for jokes, Renjun’s a little shorter than the others with the sharp mouth, Jaemin’s the one with weird blue hair, Jisung’s the youngest but the tallest, and Chenle’s the one who called you noona.

The jitters and nerves melted away completely in the first hour, the boys doing a good job in including you with them. They told you funny stories about Mark, about when they first debuted, they even went into a detailed explanation about how they knew your name from Mark and how they’ve asked him multiple times to introduce you to them. They insisted you didn’t need to reintroduce yourself because they pretty much already know everything there is, courtesy of Mark. Well almost everything.

Jeno, Jaemin, and Hyuck had decided early on to call you by your first name, the three agreeing that you’re roughly around their age. While on the other hand, Renjun, Jisung, and Chenle had decided to call you noona. You don’t consider yourself to look mature for your age and you certainly didn’t think any of them would be calling you noona, when in reality you’re younger than Jisung.

‘Do i really look that old?’ The annoyance is simmering in you at the thought, little bits of it breaking to the surface when you pout and cross your arms while you watch the boys goof around after finishing their routine. The thought of them thinking you were older leaves an unpleasant feeling in your mouth.

“Time for revenge.”

The multiple shoe screeching in the room had lessened a significant amount, the boys having done their practice and are currently playing a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’ll be buying food. You watch from across the room as Renjun walks to the corner to pick up his water. “Renjun-ah! Can i have some water too?”

You giggle to yourself when he crosses the room to give you some from his bottle, the boy completely oblivious to your sneaky intentions. “Thank you, Renjun-ah.”

“Noona!” Chenle’s shrill voice is something you’ve gotten used to both before and after officially meeting him. Mark’s always let you listen to snippets of their unreleased songs and you’ve been able to recognize their voices for years to help with giving your inputs and comments. “Can we go to the store?”

“Why’d you need to ask me?” You cut yourself off before opting to rearrange your choice of words. “I mean, you can go if you want? I’ll stay here to wait for Mark.”

“We didn’t want to leave you alone!” he smiles, “but it’s okay, Jeno hyung and Jaemin hyung are gonna go for us!”

You watch as Jaemin and Jeno gather up their shoes and put on masks, the two chatting around with the other members for a bit and your heart clenches when you see Jaemin squishing Donghyuck’s cheeks, the latter shooing Jaemin’s hands away before pushing them out the door. “Adorable.”

Donghyuck’s gaze is on yours the second the words drop from your mouth and he sticks his tongue at you when he sees you looking at him, a teasing gesture the two of you have adapted. You’ve been acquainted with Donghyuck for the last two months, the two of you starting out awkward before one day, he had stuck out his tongue at you and now you’re always sticking tongues out at the other for no apparent reason, something Doyoung doesn’t approve of.

“Donghyuck oppa, lemme pinch your cheeks.”

Your response is a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raise, “Oppa? We’re like the same age tho?”

“Chenle-yah, let noona pinch your cheeks!” You ignore Donghyuck’s statement in hopes of not blowing your cover, smiling brightly when Chenle comes over and plops himself right in front of you. His cheeks are like mochi in your hands, the skin all dewy, soft to the touch that you have to remind yourself to stop squishing before you become addicted. “Gosh, Chenle, you’re too cute. Like a baby!”

Jeno and Jaemin get back just in time, multiple managers and choreographers burst into the room just moments after them, stopping by to check on their progress. Long hours have ticked away while the sun sets, casting its golden rays and warm hue through the window and into the room. the air is filled with low chatters and you’re in a conversation with Jeno when the door opens again.

“Hey everyone-” 

You recognize the voice to be Johnny’s but his next words are muffled from multiple footsteps coming into the room at once, some faster and bolder while others are quiet and dainty. You’re listening as they increase from slow steps into full out sprints and you don’t react quick enough and you shriek when you feel someone heavy crash onto your back, making you face plant to the hard floor, them tumbling down with you

“Mark, really?” Doyoung nags before turning towards you, “Hello, little bugs.”

“Noona, look. Mark hyung’s back.” The minute those words fall from Jisung’s lips, the person on your back, who you realize to be Mark, looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. The air turning awkward for moments until two laughs explode from somewhere behind you and he joins in.

“Noona?” Johnny laughs, “Jisung, she’s younger than you by months!”

Both Chenle and Jisung launch onto their feet, crowding beside you and Mark. You try to push Mark off of you while looking at the two boys and how their mouths are moving so fast you don’t understand what they’re saying, while the expressions on their faces make you laugh along with Johnny and Doyoung.

“Yah! I’ve been your Oppa the whole time?!”

“Call me Oppa!”

“Jisung you’re a few months older than I am! And you’re a babie.”

“Well you’re a babie too!”

“This is disrespectful!”

The room bursts into chaos as each of them try to convince you to call them Oppa, Hyuck and Chenle protesting the most out of the six. The laughs and giggles echo throughout as Doyoung and Johnny shake their heads and watch from afar, smiling fondly at the way you’re slowly blending in with the dreamies. Mark’s hand is on yours for a while, the emotions in his eyes too misty for you to read until he grins. “Told you they’d love you.”

Your laugh is airy and full of emotion, “Yeah and its all thanks to you.”

[bluebellhairpin]

Apple Pie

Levi Ackerman X Reader

A/N: If you try the recipe, let me know! It’s mine, and everyone likes my apple pies. I’d love to know how yours turns out if you try! - Nemo

Summary: Nothing quite sparks nostalgia like food. Living in a world where death is always iminente, times call for a breath of fresh air - or freshly baked apple pie. 

Listening to: ‘Vagabond’ by Caamp - ‘I look at you and I see my friend.’

Masterlist  

Step One; Peel, quarter, core, and slice eight apples. Place them in a pot with ¼ cup of caster sugar, and ½ cup of water. Bring to boil then reduce heat to simmer until the apples are soft. Drain the apples of most liquid, then rest. 

Every year, after harvest season, your mother was able to set aside some apples. With them she’d bake a pie for you and the rest of your family. 

Sometimes there wasn’t enough apple to complete the filling, or enough sugar saved to dust over the top, and only once do you remember the pie being fully complete with cinnamon on the top. 

But it always made you feel at home. The whole process did. 

From getting flour over your nose, to the dough stuck between your fingers. The smell of it as it baked, and the steam that rose from the filling as your mother laid the slices in front of you and your siblings. It was something hot. Hearty. Sweet. 

There was always some leftover after everyone had a slice, and in your father’s good natured kindness, urged your mother to cut up the rest and wrap them in parchment paper. He gave the pieces out to you and your sibling, one by one, until there were no more pieces left - you usually had two slices total - and then set you all out to give them to others. 

There was something about your father making you share a hot slice of fresh apple pie with complete strangers that always stuck with you.

Maybe it was because it was so human. 

Now you’re grown, and you cling to that pure memory like it’s the last piece of breathable air in the world. Now you know what was really meant by ‘Behind those walls are giants that want to eat us’. Now everything isn’t quite so pure. Not quite so human.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Step Two; Cream 185 grams of butter and a half cup of caster sugar, then add an egg yoke. Add 1 ½ cups of plain flour, ¾ cups of self rising flour, and ⅓ cup of corn flour, then knead into a dough.

It had been a rough day for everyone. Even the ever-stoic Levi Ackerman was looking worse for wear and wasn’t bothering to hide it, that was just about as uncommon as it gets. 

There was no two-ways about it, they all needed a pick-me up.

You, ever since you joined the Military as a Scout in the Survey Corps, hadn’t been able to destress. When you were back home you always took to the kitchen. With the family’s business as a bakery, your stress-baking was never frowned upon. But now, without access to proper ingredients or full-kitchen use, you hadn’t been able to do that in years. 

However, a couple weeks ago while you were on dishes, you eyed a couple jars of stewed apples. Keeping a keen eye on them ever since, you knew exactly what to use them for now. 

With the members of the Scouts at least halved, you doubted you’d need to put a lot of effort into asking to use up some of the sugar and flour. In fact you decided then and there as the base was coming into view that you wouldn’t ask at all. This would be one of the very few cases where asking for forgiveness would be better than asking permission. 

As soon as you’d put your horse away, and cleaned your gear, you set off to the kitchen. To your surprise, it was empty. While people were normally full from rations that they’d taken on an expedition, some were too sick or nervous to eat them, while others just blindly ate, retreating to the kitchen to gorge on food or drink from one of the bottles hidden under the floorboards. 

You ignored the quiet, beginning to put the jars from their place in a cupboard's dark corner to the countertop, and then set to opening them to make sure they hadn’t gone off. 

“The hell are you doing?” Your head snapped up to the doorway, your arms instinctively performing a flawless salute despite the spoon in your hand as you recognised Levi. 

“Captain,” you lulled, “Um, I was just -”

“Feeding your face?” Your eyes looked back into his from where they’d drifted to, and you shook your head.

“I wasn’t planning to eat much, if not any of it myself, actually.”

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Step Three; Take two thirds of the dough and knead into a ball, then roll with a rolling pin until you get a base. Gently move the pastry into a greased tin. Spread the cooled apple mix evenly on the pastry.

 He’d asked you another question, you were sure, but between explaining that you were going to bake up something for the other cadets, and managing to get a taste of the stewed apples, you lost a sense of reality.

You hadn’t tasted apples like this in such a long time. If home had a flavor, this tasted like yours. 

“Hey,” Levi said, coming up beside you to flick your forehead, “I asked if you needed help.” 

“Oh no, I should be fine.” You said, rubbing your head subconsciously as you chucked the spoon in the sink before lugging out a bag of flour. You paused in your stride a second, looking over at him to see he was tracking you very intently. “But you can stay if you’d like.” 

In hernest truth, you probably needed the company, in case your thoughts of the day got to you more than you’d let them. He was probably here for that too - company - not that he’d ever say even if he was.

Surely he was hurting too. Even if he was good at hiding it, he must have felt some of the hurt that everyone else did. He was humanity's strongest. He was human. He had to feel it. But why was it bothering you?

You hadn’t even noticed that the dough was ready to be rolled out until you snapped out of your thoughts by grabbing a too-big handful of flour to coat the table in front of you. The puff of white that rose from the table to lightly coat your uniform was comical. Levi, letting out a characteristic ‘tch’, even noticed, from where he now sat in the corner drinking tea.

“Should’ve worn an apron.”

“Do you see any aprons, Captain?” His eyes darted around the room, and you continued to look at him and wait to be proven right as your hands started working the dough. He grunted, taking another sip from his tea, now watching your hands as they worked. You’d be done in no time and you both knew it. 

Admittedly you were getting tired. 

You hadn’t rested since that morning when you woke, and with the harsh events of the day it came as no surprise that at least your legs were starting to ache from standing. But just getting the pie’s in the oven would give you time to rest later. Just a little longer.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Step Four; Roll out the remaining dough for the lid. Move the pastry onto the tin, and press a fork along the edges to seal them together. Brush over the top with the egg whites, and sprinkle over sugar and cinnamon. 

After the, multiple, pies had been put in the oven to bake, you set to cleaning. 

With the day’s activities bunching up, and your very small collection of injuries from the expedition - even though you’d gotten away with scrapes at worse, and bruised limbs at best - you were still aching. Still tired. Still hurt. 

By the time you lugged yourself though tidying up the kitchen, Levi had drunk at least another cup of tea, all the while making no effort to help. Why should he too, you made the mess. You didn’t have the time to rest like you’d predicted either. The pie’s were ready, and the long overdue presence of Sasha and Connie entering the kitchen only spurred your energy a little more.

You ushered Sasha to go round up whoever of the remaining cadets that felt like eating, with a promise of a slightly larger slice, while you busied Connie with helping you get plates. 

By the time the cadets all filed in, you’d reiterated to Levi’s corner with two plates. 

You were half asleep while you ate. Levi noticed, naturally, and slipped your plate out of your fingers before it met the ground with a messy smash. Sasha was more than happy to take care of it while he guided you back to your dorm. 

All that hard work you gave making those things, ‘and for what’ he thought. 

For a craving? For nostalgia? For the other sakes? For having one thing normal? One thing nice, and sweet, and pure? 

He thought that was very human. He thought it was something that should feel like home. 

Step Five; Bake pie at 180 degrees Celsius for 15 minutes, then turn down the heat to 150 degrees Celsius and bake for another 35 minutes. Once it’s done, enjoy with ice-cream, or thickened cream. Maybe even both?

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] K-Pop Rookies P1Harmony Are Writing Their Own Coming of Age Story

By Crystal Bell

K-pop group P1Harmony debuted three months ago with their audacious single "Siren," and member Jiung is already dreaming of the perfect solo vacation. The 19-year-old singer wants to emphasize that this is a trip he'd like to — no, needs to — do alone, when he can safely do so. ("You need to bold the word 'alone,'" leader Keeho adds in English, a knowing glint of mirth in his eyes. "Put it in italics too.") So, more about this excursion: "If possible, I want to go to a foreign country," Jiung tells Teen Vogue from an office in Seoul, South Korea. He doesn't have a specific place in mind, just somewhere new and exciting and, most importantly, a place where he can be alone to freely organize his thoughts without any other responsibilities.

It sounds like a lyric ripped from the pages of his notebook, or the plot of a coming-of-age movie his 17-year-old groupmate Intak would enjoy: a young man on a voyage of self-discovery, chasing a feeling to a faraway land to escape his adolescent ennui. For now, however, it's just a lofty resolution for the new year.

"I also want to travel alone because I've never done it before," youngest member Jongseob, who recently turned 15, enthusiastically offers in Korean. Jiung, always one to help the younger sort out his feelings, is quick to quash the teenage rapper's theoretical plans. "That's not very realistic," he says. "You're too young to travel alone." Undeterred, Jongseob carries on: "Then my goal this year is to drink more milk."

"He wants to grow taller, but I don't think milk helps that much," Keeho comments, shaking his head while his teal quiff stays firmly in place. "I heard that's a myth."

Technically, they're not wrong. Unaccompanied minors can't travel internationally without a parent's formal consent in South Korea, and there's no proven scientific correlation between dairy and height. But spoken aloud, this interaction sounds more like playful goading among good friends. It's a testament to Keeho, Theo, Jiung, Intak, Soul, and Jongseob's comfortable dynamic as a group that the copper-haired youngest just earnestly smiles through the minor sting of his hopes being swiftly dashed.

For all of the training that goes into a K-pop artist's career, perhaps the most vital lesson is learning how to symbiotically coexist in close quarters with someone who is unfamiliar to you. Like most things, it is a process. Harmony isn't achieved overnight, especially among six teenage boys who have differing definitions of the word "clean." Cultural differences present unique challenges, too. When Keeho left his home in Canada to pursue his musical dreams as a trainee at FNC Entertainment in Seoul, he didn't have much trouble fitting in. Or so he thought. "He was funny," Jiung says in retrospect. "But I don't think we were able to communicate well." It wasn't that they couldn't understand what Keeho was saying — the soulful singer grew up speaking Korean with his family — but rather they couldn't understand him.

"Everyone would be stressed out, and I would be like, 'Guys, relax. Why are you stressing out over this?'" Keeho says animatedly with his hands. "They couldn't understand why I was so relaxed. How could I not care about anything? And I couldn't understand why they were always so stressed about things. It took a while to get on the same page."

That's where communication comes in. "The key is being honest," Jiung explains. "We have a lot of talks." These regular conversations allow the members to resolve potential issues before they spiral into larger, more disharmonious problems. Keeho is refreshingly open about this. "We're always stuck together," he adds. "We live together. We see each other 24 hours a day. Seeing anyone 24 hours a day, you'll eventually be, like, ugh, get away from me, but because we communicate so much, that [feeling] is reduced." Establishing rules and boundaries also helps. "We have a basic rule that you clean up the mess you've made," Jongseob says from where he's perched behind Jiung. (This rule is especially important to methodical Jiung.) And then there's vocalist Theo, the eldest member who also takes on the role of the group's even-keeled mediator because he's a good listener, and he likes giving advice.

"I'm not very opinionated," the blonde says. At 19, he's a few months older than Keeho but harder to read. He's both lighthearted and enigmatic. "I'm not good at expressing my feelings," Theo explains. "But the members are really good at expressing themselves and their emotions, so I'm learning how to open up because of them." According to Keeho, Theo is "bad at being serious," adding, "We'll have to have a serious talk, and he won't be able to take it. He's always trying to lighten the mood. He's the comedic relief."

Keeho makes a habit of describing the members' various idiosyncrasies in fervent detail. It's a very leaderly thing to do, to make sure that everyone feels understood. Occasionally, he also jumps in to help interpret their answers into English, or to encourage others to speak. Soul, who is half-Korean but was raised in Japan, could be described as a quiet person: an introvert who wears a lot of black, listens to metal, and has a particular obsession with massive skull rings and accessories. But he's also acutely perceptive. He'd rather listen and observe than be an active participant in the conversation. "I like when the rest of the members are discussing an idea," he says quietly in Korean (he's still learning the language). "I like watching them talk." It's not that he's not involved, but as Keeho puts it, "He's always supporting us silently and observing us." For Soul, it's more fun to sit and watch.

You can get a sense of these dynamics as they unfold on the last track of the group's debut EP, Disharmony: Stand Out. It's a skit, or audio recording of the members — then, just trainees — as they talk candidly about their dreams to perform and contemplate the implications of such aspirations. "I work hard here for the debut, but when I go to school, I wonder, 'What am I doing here?'" Intak says on tape, recalling how strange it feels to not have the same priorities as his classmates who are all preparing for their college admissions. Theo quells his concerns, telling him how lucky he is to already be working toward his dream. "That's a cool thing," Keeho adds, as Soul silently listens in the background.

While his peers prepared for their academic futures, Intak was spending his evenings dancing, rapping, singing, and writing lyrics, while also stunt training alongside his groupmates and preparing to become a… movie star. A few weeks before the release of their album, P1H: A New World Begins hit theaters across South Korea in early October. The first K-pop origin story to hit the big screen, the feature film introduced P1Harmony and their sci-fi lore to the masses. Long story short: After a deadly virus spreads chaos and violence around the globe, six boys with extraordinary gifts are humanity's only hope for survival. The filming experience was invaluable for the artists, who until that point had only ever studied music and performance. "Acting training really helped with my facial expressions," Intak says. "I learned how to portray my emotions on stage." Keeho agrees, adding, "We got very friendly with the camera."

Singers who rap, rappers who sing, dancers who act — the boys of P1Harmony forgo clearly defined roles in favor of being versatile and, well, good at everything.

As for their music, Disharmony: Stand Out is a snapshot of Gen Z unrest, simmering with angst ("Siren") and bucking wildly, vibrantly against convention ("Nemonade"). Teenage turmoil has been fueling the K-pop industry since the very beginning, and there's a certain nostalgia to P1Harmony's no-holds-barred approach. Members Soul and Jongseob both credit B.A.P and their hard-hitting style with inspiring them to become artists, with Zelo influencing Jongseob to pursue rap in elementary school. You can hear those more aggressive, hip-hop-tinged influences on Disharmony, as well as softer, more lyrical R&B flourishes ("Butterfly").

"We wanted to convey feelings and situations that are not harmonious," Jongseob says. "We want to say don't be afraid to stand out and to say what you want to say — speak your truth, and do it with courage and confidence." Despite his age, the young rapper carries himself like a veteran. By all accounts, he's earned the title, having won the competition series K-pop Star 6 at age 12 in 2017 and competed in YG Treasure Box less than two years later. These experiences, he says, helped him feel more comfortable performing. By the time he came to FNC, he was already a prodigy with the confidence and flow of a performer twice his age.

"There are so many people, our age especially, who aren't always able to speak courageously and confidently," Keeho adds. "So we wanted to encourage everyone, especially ourselves, to never be afraid to say what you want to say."

And they practice what they preach. All of the members are credited lyricists on the album, with all six collaborating on the roaring hip-hop track "That's It." Part cypher, part vibes, "That's It" is teeming with boyish swagger and possibility. "Even though it was the first time all six of us worked on a song together, surprisingly we were all on the same page from the very first meeting, and it came together quickly," Jiung recounts, adding that each member wrote their own verse. "It was fun," Keeho chirps.

That creative energy is also channeled into their performances. "Because we do take part in a lot of the songwriting, we also want to convey that in our dance," Intak explains. Though he's part of the group's rap line, his first love was dance. He started taking lessons as a child. "My mom is a dancer, so she's where I got my love of dancing," he says. As such, he's well-versed in conveying emotion through motion. "We always have an idea of how we want to portray these emotions with our bodies," he says. The members choreograph their own center gestures. These movements are a small but significant part of any performance, because this is where their charisma and individuality shine brightest.

"I wanted to become a singer because I wanted to perform onstage," Theo says. "So being able to be on music programs performing on real stages, surrounded by bright LED lights and visual backdrops, I feel like a main character. When all of the lights are on me, I feel like a star."

Unsurprisingly, even when he's offstage, he's still singing. He even likes to call his friends and take song requests. "I like to sing to my friends through the phone," he says. "I'll sing anything they want. I play piano for them, too. They're very open to listening to me." Next to him, Keeho adds, "My friends would not want me to sing to them." (The internet respectfully disagrees.) Meanwhile, Jongseob turns to making music and writing lyrics in his downtime. It's a great way to relieve stress, he says. These days, Intak turns to animated films to ease his mind. He's a fan of Studio Ghibli films, and he really likes the Japanese manga characters Doraemon and Shin Chan.

"I watch a lot of coming-of-age stories about these innocent kids who are in the process of becoming adults," he explains. "I get inspired by watching them. I don't want to lose that innocence, so watching those animations make me feel youthful." It's hard to imagine Intak without his boyish sensibility. It's seeped into every social media post and YouTube vlog (or, #PLOG). Yet, as an artist, as a teenager, it's an unusual phenomenon to be perceived by thousands of fans before having the clarity to perceive yourself. It's something no amount of Miyazaki or training prepares you for.

Initially, Theo had a hard time opening up on camera. The mere thought of it made him nervous, but the more he did it, the easier it was for him to parse his own feelings. "I'm not very good at expressing emotions like thank you and I love you," he says. "But it's a lot easier to express those feelings now because I feel them so sincerely. I can say thank you for loving me [to fans] because I truly mean it."

"There are people from all around the world who leave me messages, and that makes me so happy," Intak says. "It drives me to do more and to give more to them."

And there will be more to give. Disharmony: Stand Out was just the beginning, and Keeho already has some very big goals for 2021. At the top of the list? "Rookie of the Year, come on!" he says spiritedly of the K-pop industry's coveted award. "It's definitely possible. I'm manifesting it right now." He also wants to make more music, maybe release more covers. "We want to come back a lot," he smiles. "I'm thinking [of] at least three releases next year."

Then there are more personal goals, like Jiung's solo travels. "I want to take better care of my mental health," he adds, noting that it starts with a more positive mindset. "I want to be a better person overall." Intak wants to, for the first time in his young life, maintain a consistent routine for a healthier lifestyle. That includes getting enough sleep when there aren't any schedules. ("He could sleep, but he chooses not to," Keeho jokes.) After monitoring his fancams, Theo has decided that he wants to build more muscle. And Soul hopes to go home to Japan to see his dog, a Frenchie named Mochi.

As for Keeho, in true Libra fashion, he wants to maintain a sense of balance: "I want to stay true to myself," he says. "I don't want to be like, oh, the fame is getting to me. I don't want to change. I want to stay grounded and stay thankful and be grateful, always. I also want to make some more money." He laughs, then adds, "I can't lie!"

No, he can't. Honesty is the key to harmony, after all.

[bnha-almost-a-hero]

*✧･ﾟ━━envy,

shigaraki tomura has always been left in the shadows. he accepted early, that life was an ever-flowing stream: people moved forward and he was just a rock, a hitch in the waters. he was always content to stay that way, until you came into his life and brought with you the devil in his eyes. now, he won’t be so mellow. part of my ‘seven deadly sins’ anthology.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬; yandere! shigaraki tomura, the lov, a poor friend

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; yandere & unhealthy relationships & death & knives & manipulation & torture & shigaraki has big bad thoughts (involving murder) & jealousy & my gross overuse of ampersands and hyphen-minuses.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; tumblr’s turning me into an html coder i swear. gonna be hacking databases soon, everyone watch out- 👀

You brought them, Shigaraki noted as you swung open the metal door to the League’s newest hideout. No, you hadn’t just brought them, you were holding them, arm in arm, like some kind of—.

Like some kind of couple.

Shigaraki had been tolerating it ever since you convinced him to let your creature of a ‘friend’ join his League. Hell, he hadn’t even noticed your two’s closeness until he overheard Toga and Dabi commenting on it, yet, when he did, he couldn’t help but feel the bile in his gut simmer every time he saw you two together.

Admittedly, he had brushed all of this under the carpet, steering his thoughts back to the undermining and then destruction of hero society. After all, the innovators of socio-political reformations didn’t envy a irrelevant pawn. The grand boss did not weep over a lost romance with a side character.

Shigaraki was more than that.

Shigaraki was better than that.

Shigaraki had never considered himself a knife person. He never really considered himself a weapons person in general. Sure, he had a few replica swords which cost way too much money that he stuffed into his closet back in Kamino Ward, but he had never used a weapon as a tool for when he need to get the job done.

That was more of Toga and Spinner’s forte and a weapon was an exercise in futility when one had a Quirk which could crumble flesh to dust. 

Even so, Shigaraki had to admit that using his Quirk on your friend would be much too easy. He had come to this conclusion upon seeing your friend place their slimy hand against the swell of your hip, rubbing it gently which sent you into a flurry of laughter. 

Perhaps a knife wasn’t so bad after all.

Your smile is the worst thing about this ordeal, Shigaraki decides.

When you first joined, you gave Shigaraki a small smile that made his heart flutter against his ribs. He thought himself special, that that smile was only reserved for himself. All that stopped when he first observed you giving that same smile to Toga; then Magne and Twice; then Compress and then Spinner and Dabi and finally your little friend.

Toga, Magne and Twice he wasn’t too bothered by, all of them were amicable with the rest of the League and they seemed to attract the rest of the members to themselves like magnets. It was only natural that you got along with them, surely.

With Compress, he was irked. He was irked by his magic routines and he was irked by your constant awe-filled glimmer in your eyes whenever he performed one. A trick, Shigaraki convinced himself, he’s a trickster—he doesn’t deserve you... But I do.

He found Spinner quite puzzling. You had gone out of your way to break the lizard out of his shell and, in that regard, Shigaraki was annoyed that you had invested your time bonding with someone that wasn’t him. And yet, Spinner and Shigaraki had a silent brotherhood amongst each other: a bro-code if he were an obnoxious frat-boy. And, over video games and tabletop sessions, Shigaraki realised: Spinner was no true competition, not when held against—

Dabi, Shigaraki gritted his teeth. He was the wild card, the wrench in his perfect plans. He was always there with a snide comment and his shoulders slouched whenever he spoke with Shigaraki. When he was with you, however, he took on another demeanour: the demeanour of a suave bachelor, looking for the next person who’s heart he would eat. 

He was particularly touchy with you, an arm slung over your shoulder; hand on your head, rubbing it. Worst of all were the whispered conversations he’d have with you when you two were hidden in some corner of the hideout and your echoing laughter and the way Dabi would angle his head to look at Shigaraki with those electrifying eyes. 

He knows, Shigaraki thought, he’s playing with you, he’s playing with me. And, somehow, that made him even angrier, but also calmed his nerves. Dabi wouldn’t take this seriously, Shigaraki realised, if I don’t take this seriously. The key to chasing Dabi off lay in your little friend.

Dabi was both one of the strongest and weakest link in the League. His Quirk made him priceless in the grand scheme of things, though his loyalty wasn’t absolute. He could very well win the League the game just as he sold them out to any vigilante that came running. Still, his Quirk at least put him ahead of your friend.

Your friend—who was distracting you from your assignments.

Your friend—who’s loyalty was only based on if you were still in the game.

Your friend—who was constantly fucking everyone else over during engagements because they’re tunnel vision constricted them to look out for the safety of themselves and you as opposed to the safety of the team.

Your friend—who’s Quirk might as well have been the ability to piss water compared to the multitude of useful powers simmering with the League.

They were the weakest link.

They needed to go.

And he’d need Dabi to ensure their departure.

“You’re real crazy you know that, boss?” Dabi had drawled when Shigaraki had first propositioned him for the task. ”But what do I have to do with it? Isn’t she your girl?”

Shigaraki tried to keep the emotion from rising to his face, “No.” He said, cold as frost. “I’ve seen the way you act with her,” Shigaraki almost bit his tongue as he recited his rehearsed lines. “Don’t you want to get rid of the common denominator in all our problems?”

“I don’t have anything against them,” Dabi retorted, though his spine and jaw were stiff and his lips whispered something that his vocal chords did not speak.

“Not after they insulted your scars or when they jumped in front of you during our raid and blamed you when they got burned?” Only the latter was true, the former Shigaraki could only draw from his own insecurities. “I never pegged you for the forgiving type, Dabi.”

The flame-user’s face darkened, eyes glowing a pure blue. “What did they say about my scars?” 

Jackpot, Shigaraki thought. Dabi was always one to tease and a fair bit of the League would retort to those chaff by teasing his scars, but Shigaraki had seen the way his eyes would narrow or how he’d cringe slightly at every scar-related epithet.

“I overheard them, on the phone, a few days ago. They said it was a bother to look at you, that you were a detriment to the League with your attitude,” Shigaraki was never good at speaking, never good at manipulating someone, but his obsession was driving him toward you. He was always going towards you. “But, I think we both know who the real detriment is.”

“Right,” Dabi mutters as he shoves his hands in his pants. “I’ll have them by tomorrow, just let me get one in first. I want to make them look just like me.”

Shigaraki rasped and raked his fingers across his neck, “Whatever.”

Dabi, true to his word, had made them look like him. In fact, they were so scarred up that Shigaraki could barely get a piece of pristine skin to ruin. They didn’t last very long, all things considered and Dabi’s fire reduced them to ashes in the wind—not a trace left.

You were devastated, of course, sobbing on Shigaraki’s shoulder as you explained how your friend hadn’t called in two weeks. Soon, Shigaraki told himself, those weeks would turn into months and months into years. Your dear friend would fade from the League’s memory and, with time, yours. 

He would be the beacon in your time of darkness: just like his Sensei had been for him and you’d forget that this ever occurred.

Because, in truth, it never happened.