#characters who can only love at a distance

[reallyromealone]

Can i request Kaname Kuran x Pureblood Male Reader and reader is kaname's betrothed from birth. If you can you can put in more details but can it be an omegaverse please.

Title: mate oh my mate

Fandom: vampire knight

Characters: vampire knight cast

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Kaname x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, Omegaverse, Omega male reader, vampire reader, feeding, yuuki has rage

Notes:

Summary: reader is requested to attend cross academy by his mate and Yuuki is less than impressed

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

"Fiance?" Yuuki was confused, looking around the room while Kaname nodded, holding a photo of the Omega in question, a pure blood dressed in soft cremes "he will be joining the night class!" Cross cheered, trying to see the bright side of the newest student. "He knows the rules, I assume?" Zero grunted at the pure blood who gave him a barely veiled look of annoyance.

"He is fully aware"

Yuuki tried to hide the envy she felt towards the Omega... This was kanames mate...

A pure blood male Omega, probably trained to be the perfect mate for him.

"But there's no Omega dorms in the night class...?" Yuukis question was a thinly veiled argument and Kaname looked at her fondly, as if she were a little sister "we have already made the proper arrangements, his room will be across from mine" Kaname seemed quite pleased with his words, always a slightly smug with each sentence.

Yuuki just sat there before letting out a sigh and standing, storming out of the room.

Confusion swept the vampires face, cross and zero knowing exactly why she left "she had to learn eventually..." Zero mumbled and cross agreed.

Kaname decided he didn't want to pursue this drama, human drama wasn't really something he cared for before excusing himself, after all...

His mate should be here any moment.

-

(Name) Sat in the limo calmly, dressed in his new uniform while staring at the scenery curiously while the sun was setting. He had never been to a school, having been homeschooled prior but his alpha wanted him close, not liking the distance and limited time together. A ring sat on his finger, a beautiful ruby, surrounded by garnets... It reminded (name) of kanames eyes...

His alpha had such lovely eyes...

"We can see each other each day my kana..." (Name) Whispered, pleased with the concept of seeing his beloved once again after almost a month a part, the only commutation being letters; thank god Kaname left him scented objects. The school was truly something, the grand school peaking from the horizon and the trees barely hiding it "so this is where kana stays..." (Name) Was curious about the school, his staff told him roughly how it works...

-

Kaname could sense his mate before he even got on the grounds, the exhaustion of his beloved seeping into his skin, the distance had been taking a toll on him after all. (Name) Was asleep when the limo pulled up and Kaname wasted no time scooping him into his arms and wandering to the night class dorms, looking at the light of his life and hopefully he will be less exhausted after this nap...

(Name) Was usually quite more lively, the sun to his moon but it seems that the seperation had made him so tired... Poor thing. He barely acknowledged the night class while bringing (name) to his room, the Omega immediately snuggling into the blankets and taking in Kanames scent. Looking at his mate, Kaname felt relief and crouched before him "soon we will be out of here... I just have loose ends to tie up and you will be marked and we will go home..." He promised before getting up and walking towards the door, glancing back at the sleeping vampire.

It was hours before (name) woke, eyes snapping open and looking around the unfamiliar room and sniffing... "Starving..." He whispered, wanting nothing more than his alpha to be here so he could pin him down and enjoy what he's been deprived of. Stepping out of the room he looked around with a slouch, Senri the first to notice him and alert the rest of the night class and subsequently Kaname.

"Where is he?" (Name) Said slowly, hungry and frankly not in the mood for any games of any sort "he's in the gardens... He will return soon" Senri spoke softly and (name) just stared before wandering off.

"I just don't understand! Why can't it be me?!" A voice called out and Kanames voice could be heard almost exasperated "Yuuki, I love you but not in the way you want... You're my sister and that will never change but (name) is my mate" Kaname explained to his sister who sobbed angrily "but I love you!"

"But I don't love you"

And at that moment, Yuuki Kuran broke.

Sobbing uncontrollably, she ran off and Kaname kept composure before turning towards his mate "hello my love..." Exhaustion evident in his voice and (name) wandered towards him "she had to learn eventually..." (Name) Reached towards him and gently traced his face and Kaname rested his head in his mates hand.

The two walked back into the dorms and up to kanames room, the Alpha offering his neck to his beloved who Kissed his pulse lovingly before biting in, starved of his mates blood. Kaname gently rubbed his hips and ass, letting his beloved take what he needed before pulling back and snuggling into him "are you hungry alpha?" (Name)s voice content and dream-like and Kaname simply kissed the blood from his lips "I'll feed later, for now we have much to discuss, no?"

(Name) Was graceful and elegant, arm linked with Kanames while students looked on in awe at the Omega with an ornate engagement collar, (name) nodding kindly to the fellow omegas in the school in an act of omega-omega kindness, no matter the hierarchy it was seen as an equal understanding to one another and safety in numbers.

Even if he was a vampire, it was nice to have fellow omegas.

"So why are you attending this school... You received your education" (name) asked while they walked to the headmasters office and Kaname hummed "to keep an eye on my sister, I worry for her and she's attached to a specific human... After the Rido situation... I don't want to risk it"

"Reasonable"

(Name) Was curious while sitting beside Kaname, the headmaster and an obvious hunter "thank you for coming here (name)" cross smiled and (name) nodded politely, looking towards Kaname who nodded "vampiric tradition requires the Omega to have approval before talking to an unknown alpha, as I am required to gain approval before talking to unknown omegas"

"I see, well (name) if there's anything you need here to make your transition smoother please don't hesitate to ask" cross said kindly and yagari glared at the Omega "and one slip up and it's curtains, do you understand me?" His voice stern and (name) nodded calmly "if I find out you fed on any student you will be executed"

"I can only feed from my alpha or those pills you gave me... " (Name) Spoke softly and cross looked confused "vampiric mates can only feed off each other, they don't have claim marks but the rules would still apply for them" yagari explained, already tired of this conversation and (name) was pleased the hunter understood.

"Well regardless, we hope you feel safe and welcome"

"Thank you, sir Cross..." (Name) Spoke kindly before leaving with his mate.

"Now let's hope yuuki doesn't cause problems" cross mumbled, leaning back into his chair.

[notpixl]

HSR Character Drabbles (Ft. The Stellaron Hunters & The IPC)

Had to change the title since like the realizing part is kind of restricting my headcanoning ahh and I want to just-

Your honor just kill me I just wanna write 🫠

GN!Reader as per usual

And if there was a Title to describe this whole bananza then it’s: What do they do when they’re in love with You?

But it feels… you know what? Just enjoy this mess.

Also! Established Relationships for Topaz and Aventurine. I would’ve gone insane by the time I had something for them that isn’t in the relationship phase…

—————

———

—————

Kafka

She’s “somewhat” clingy

Been like this ever since she’s laid her eyes on you

You just bring a… certain charm that makes her enamored

And this feeling soon devolved into something more…

I wouldn’t say worse but…

It reaches to the point where she cherishes every moment with you

Be it longer hugs

Her hands intertwined with yours at any chance she gets

Or a few more minutes just so she can lay in bed you a little bit longer (the whole one room one bed is orchestrated by her, of course)

You’re just…

Mm…

She just wants to be with you

Every second

Smile for her, will you? Just once? It’ll get her going

Silver Wolf

Holed up in her room

Otome games stacked beside her

Reading text at near light speeds as if it isn’t even difficult

And once she meets her own reflection from the end credits…

She concludes that it isn’t enough

…she wants everything to go right

Not to make an embarrassment of herself

It has her spiraling downwards and staying up for days until you’re told by Kafka to check in on her

Her eyes flutter open

Words of concern spill out of your mouth

She’s not even listening to you

Just…

Wondering if these hands on her shoulders are real or not

Thankfully she does get ahold of her senses and willingly heads to bed

Not before having more… thoughts

Damn can she be just normal for once-

Tip for Boss: Give her a hug

Blade

Sort of good news…?

He’s in love

Bad news?

He’s in love

He goes to such lengths in distancing himself from you, often taking missions that’ll definitely take a month or two to finish…

It’s only when Elio and Kafka step in with these countless missions that he begrudgingly takes in your presence again

Though… some part of him appreciates your company

Even if one day you…

Well…

Let’s just ignore that for a second

All that matters now…

Is that you’re here

Side note: Ruffle his hair at least once or twice a week.

Pretty please.

Firefly

She’ll be fine she says!

Cues to her trying to get a grip of everything the moment you wave at her

Firefly is… a mess to put it at words

Girlfailure if you will

From spacing out just by calling her name or her brain needing a reboot when you hold her hand

Heck, even Kafka and Silverwolf are teasing her about this!

But… she isn’t afraid to improve

Because one day

She’ll have the courage to…

To ask if you’re fine with eating cake rolls with her…

…

Doesn’t that just sound like a date-

Fun fact: She will stay still as a rock if you lay your head on her shoulder. Use this for whatever you want

Aventurine

Countless paper bags scattered across thr living room

You don’t deny these gifts of course it’s just…

You know

You’re not used to this

This amount of…

Appreciation

So, who would’ve thought that one day…

He decides to visit you!

Without warning!

…How did he even know your addre-

Right, your wallet…

That aside he’s just…

Standing there

Processing what’s in front of him right now

“…do you want more?”

“Wh-what?”

“Do you want a mansion instead?”

“Navi, can you get ahold of yourself please-

Call him nicknames. Makes him a tomato.

Topaz

Lap Pillows

And also Numby laying on your tummy

This has been an occasional thing whenever the weekend comes by

There’s also a switch in roles! And it happens quite often during weekdays when she comes home from work

Which lets you pepper her with kisses, leaving her a blushing mess afterwards

She’ll also fake getting sick just so she can be enveloped by your lovey dovey hugs just a bit longer

Though that always ends in her grumpily heading back to work…

“I miss my S/O, Numby…” She says as she closes the front door

Tip: If you kiss her then keep kissing her then make out and head to fourth base did you know she’ll be really needy an

Dr Ratio

After countless research and conducting…

Does he finally come up with a solution

…

A change in attitude

His rather… harsh demeanor would only lead to distancing yourself from him

Which explains itself very well in not having a chance at expressing his feelings for you

…but he’ll do what he can

Big or small

So long as you see him…

The way he sees you

Then writing this Thesis about Love isn’t so bad after all

I.E. Dr. Ratio turns soft for your sake and everyone else’s

…

“What’s this?”

“Tea. I thought you might need it for the gargantuous amount of paperwork.”

“Thanks… are you sure you aren’t possessed?”

“Why the assumption…?”

“You’re smiling.”

…

….

…

Yell at me if I did something bad for anyone in thi sob drabble :(

And that if this gets more than eleven likes I will have to acknowledge the fact that people like this

[sillyhanako]

˚ ₊ ‧ ୨﹒its getting stickyyyyy﹒୧ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅

﹒꒦꒷ headcanons﹔dandadan cast x saiki!reader

﹒꒦꒷ contains﹔tsundere reader , reader being pulled in unnecessary fights , saiki is acc way too op wtf??? , ♾️aura for reader for not being naked in that one scene , a persona reference (find it >:3 !!) , smart reader ftw , seiko considers reader a genius , reader being the 2 lovebird's therapist , fashion show at momo's room , grateful reader.

୧﹒wc : 505 (IM GOING BACK TO 5O5)

꒱﹒a/n﹒୨୧ : HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! Omg why did i forgot about this blog for a hot minute. Exams has been DRAINING my pp. Enjoy this draft fr 🤣🔥 GOODMORNING to the SQUID GAME NATION GOODMORNING to THE 8 SHOW NATION love yal fr oh yeah btw i havent watched saiki since 2022 and it was nice scrolling at tdlosk wiki page 💔💔

ー﹕m.list﹐

saiki!reader who is usually the background character, "the quiet kid", a reclusive shut-in who hates being the center of attention. They are quite reserved and rarely uses their voice. you could say that they liked their calm little life, so much as to go out from their way to make other people disinterested in them or avoid others as much as possible.

saiki!reader who gets exposed for having high spiritual energy when the Serpos attack the school. And thus being forced to fight these local-creepy-old-man looking... aliens?? Good grief.

saiki!reader who altered the memories of those who saw the three naked. hm? Ofcourse its only the lovebirds and the third-wheel. what? Did you really think they would be caught naked in front of the whole school? over their dead body.

saiki!reader who is now being constantly followed by the little group of friends that wont stay so little, and they dont get why? They helped them that ONE time. It doesnt mean they could be disturbing his peace everyday?

saiki!reader who isnt escaping the group's question of how they go their psychic abilities, when did they get their psychic abilities, what they can do with their psychic abilities... and the list goes on. And they have to expect this moutain of questions whenever a new member joins.

saiki!reader who rarely participates in fights but if they do its gonna be effortlessly flashy. They prefer to attack from a distance where the enemy wouldnt spot them, putting them at a disadvantage.

saiki!reader who saves their asses when they are in trouble. And they demand coffe jelly as a repayment.

saiki!reader who offers a listening ear for momo and okarun, letting them ramble about how much they love eachother and the people who deem as a competitor for their love. And in return the psychic just tells them how much of a coward they are and yapping their ears off wont magically get them together, so they better muster up that courage and confess. Like its not going to cut off their head. and if they dont they have no ballz (one of them certainly doesnt have em).

saiki!reader who helps with chores around Seiko's house, such as cleaning and buying groceries as a way to repay her kindness that many doesnt seem to appreciate.

saiki!reader who caught the attention of evil eye, he deems them as a worthy rival. And now on top of fighting litteral aliens, searching for balls and being the personal therapist of 2 lovebirds they also need to keep watch from getting jumped by a possessed athlete? End their misery.

saiki!reader whos a victim of momo's fashion show. She says she loves their (unintentional) pink and green aestethic and begs for them to try just fewwwww of outfits that she claims to be just their style.

saiki!reader who combines their hydrokinesis and pyrokinesis powers when jiji turns into the evil eye.

saiki!reader who is grateful for their annoying friends.

© 2025 sillyhanako ━ do not copy, steal, or reupload my works. Thanks!

[luv-beam]

SURPRISEEE!!! i finished some things early and realized i had a lot of time tonight, so here i am!!! really, just a treat for me heh:

• dropping us immediately into everything-has-gone-to-shit oh ur praying on our downfall TT like the distance is palpable... and hao 😭 oh sweet, protective big brother hao 😭

• THE TULIPS??!?@!( STRETCHING TOWARD THE SKY??? my chest hurts .. the way yn looks at the garden now. like ik how it feels when something/someplace u once considered ur safe haven or safety net becomes corrupt,, twists the heart

• YOU WOULD NOT COME HERE AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭 UGLY CRYING its the way "at least not alone" comes right after and i wonder if seokmin feels the same bc he also walked by, but only w minghao (granted, this isnt his house but...) and bc u write that they were BOTH affected (im not delulu am i...)

• vapid fop... what if i chuckled hahah

• also HELLO YOON JEONGHAN (u couldn't resist, could u, tara ;))) "a balm to the bruised parts" oh. im honestly living for jeonghans character and that in some other life, he and yn might actually make the perfect match (also mama xu doing mama matchmaker things w said thinly veiled glee is everything)

• its interesting that seok and hannie have kind of switched tropes? idk if that makes sense, but jeonghan as the warm, comforting presence and seokmin as the teasing, haunting ex-relation. its interesting seeing them both in these contexts and i like the subtle way u point to seokmin still having feelings for her or, yk, CARING ABT HER

• oh so nooow u try to play nice ..... jkjk im sorry i have assumed yns soul at this moment LMFAOOO (we're at the return of hao)

• i have sm pettiness in my bones that i emoathize w yn too well in this section LOL like yn was holding back, she could have snubbed him even more thoroughly imo !!! the dettached politeness and careful dismissal of his attempts at conversing w her makes me cackle lol (sorry dk) loved the dialogue/interactions!!!

• "weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction" oooooo welcome back tapestry metaphor 😌 i love imagining all of this like one massive tapestry being weaved in of those big ass looms that u think of from ancient greece

• speaking of intoxicating, the way u described jeonghan previously reminded me of champagne teehee

• the fact that every time seokyn make eye contact w one another the world seems to pause makes me ILL. like u cannot make me think of that slow motion, light fading-esque scene every time like my heart cannot take it

• i feel sick 😭😭😭😭 like damn that hurts... like u hate to see them doing so much better than u and u capture that bittersweet heartache/break so well :')))

• like sure seok's reputation might have been scuffed a little when she ran away, but all of that negative social consequence is given to yn, not seokmin. and the domino effect of all her "mistakes" and all this isolation is so... accurate? truly, her isolation and helplessness/defeat can be felt thru the screen

• i can kind of imagine the scene where yns escaped back home and is just sitting in the dark,, like the muffled sounds of partygoers and then the door closes and it's so quiet... man im so sad for her

• "ah i see my sister's charming everyone tonight" PLS I LOVE U HAO 😭😭😭 he's such a sweet older brother bye skfndjfj the way he's so protective im so

• i am kind of curious if yn has realized/forgiven seokmin in some way? like ik she's bitter and also heartbroken cuz she felt stupid for believing he could love her back, but at this point, she seems to have forgiven hao in some capacity for trying to help her "save her prospects" last chapter. so would it be safe to say that she's forgiven seok for going along w it too? or ig,, its a little more complicated than that huh

• damn someone who can make even jeonghan nervous/uncertain? crazy lol

• all this time passing MAKES. ME. SO. SAD. FOR. HER. 😭😭😭

• i agree w yn, the tulips bring an unwelcoke reminder of seokmin 😌 sorry seokmin

• the gaping hole and taut tension during the brief scene of spring age 22 is so JSNFKDJFJ RAAAAAAAAH ik im on yns side but like i need to strap this girl to an armchair so they can talk shit out 😭 i love longing so much but i also wanna tear my hair out

• i looove that u describe each and every ball/society event in its own way, like they have their own unique personalities!! :'))) like this one as a kaleidoscope... so beautiful, its a pleasure to my mind. on a similar note, the way u described sohee's dress and appearance was MWAH!! like i can picture exactly what she looks like, she's such a vibrant and living character in my mind. though the irony is not lost on me how her appearance/dress is described in such similar detail as when yn was a debutante 💔 like she's now been cast aside and it no longer matters how well she dresses; no one expects her to steal the spotlight

• oh but this one hurts 😭 ^ like it was established in chapter one that she must exhibit restraint and hope often slips through ones fingers like water, and it's heartbreaking and utterly depressing that she kind of lives thru these younger girls' experiences bc she never got her happily ever after. ur not only sidelined, but ur forced to watch someone live the life u were supposed to have (its so cruel 😭)

• "i suspect that there's still magic left in ur own waltz" OH I HAAAATE UUUUUUU YOON JEONGHAN WHY DID U HAVE TO END UP SO GOOD 😭 why r u making me like him tara 😭😭😭😭 not the second male lead 😭 now i want him and yn to end up together

• a reminder of what ive lost... the ache... ugh its so good...

• ONCE AGAIN. the imagery is perfection. like ur painting of the gardens at night in my mind is SUBLIME

• SHE WAS MINE FIRST OH JEONGHAN (´Д⊂ヽ OHHHHH I SO WANT U RN ive always sensed this kindred heartache btwn us, bestie. also just both of them coveting a hand that isnt theirs... goddamn, it's always the pining and forbidden that gets me

• but also totally digging the offer for a loveless marriage. like they can totally just make the best of it :')) its clear that they get along, and who knows.. it could turn into some semblance of love :')) i like to think that he's a little desperate himself while trying to convince yn to take up his offer. although a man won't get as much blow back for being unmarried, he's still a viscount. mutual desperation, mutual heartache... just drawing connections heh

• A GARDEN PARTY IN THE QUEEN'S GARDEN AND YET ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL PANEL TO ADD TO OUR GROWING TAPESTRY WEEEE

• "punctuated by the delicate notes" oo i just had to say that i love that word choice, it scratches an itch in my brain

• oh. thats quite the uh scandalous position their seokie... also just the way that time seemed to slow down again, but this time, yns trying so desperately to put on a strong face that seems so ready to slip off at a moment's notice. like i can feel her trying to pull herself up by her bootstraps and not fall apart

• never mind my question was just answered 😭😭😭 yn baby pls i know ur terribly depressed but U NEED TO HEAR HIM OUT . PLEASE.

• I LOOOOVE THE ENDING, LIKE I LOVE THAT WE'VE ENDED UP HERE OF ALL PLACES LIKE OOOOOOO PETTINESS HAHAHAHAH

if u couldn't discern it, i loved this chapter so much!!!! :'))) like the superstar was definitely the tension and the push and pull of emotions as yn experiences her young life flash before eyes skcnkdnf i love that you've ghrown a wrench into the plot of seokyn via one very handsome and persuasive and lovelorn yoon jeonghan 🫂🫂 i cant WAIT to read seok's reaction, and EVERYONE'S reactions for that matter LMFAO i am so enjoying this series so far tara, tysm for ur hard work !!! 💖

The Somerset Affair Chapter 3: Promises Bathed in Moonlight

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 3 took forever too lol // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys

summary: maybe you really are well and truly alone.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here! series masterlist

The First Year: Summer Age 19

The first season after that fateful night was like a hazy dream. When you returned to the social scene, the whispers followed: why had Lord Lee disappeared from your side, so abruptly and publicly, leaving you to stand alone in the wake of his departure?

You endured it with a forced smile, accepting dances from any man who offered. Seokmin, when you saw him, was always nearby yet achingly out of reach, just beyond the edge of the crowd, his gaze never straying to you. Minghao, perhaps sensing the fraught silence between you, would draw you into conversation whenever he could, his manner protective, his eyes wary.

The estate gardens were nothing short of stunning in the late spring. Bursts of red and yellow tulips stretched toward the sky, their vibrant hues softened only by the ivy draping from the nearby trellis. The whole scene was picturesque, brimming with life and warmth. Yet, to you, it held only shadows, echoes of laughter from a time that now felt far away.

You’d meant to pass by quickly, perhaps even avoid the gardens altogether, but the pull was magnetic, the memories nestled there too insistent to ignore. This had been your sanctuary, your haven of whispered secrets and boundless dreams. You had spent countless summer afternoons here with Seokmin, lying on the grass, watching clouds drift lazily by as he teased you with nonsense riddles and ridiculous tales. He’d always made you laugh—those moments had seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the certainty that nothing would ever change.

But change it had.

Now, as you stood among the tulips, their bright faces tilted toward the sun, you felt as if you were the only one left in shadow. Each flower seemed to mock you, as if asking why you had come back when he was no longer here to share it with you. You could almost hear his laughter in the rustling leaves, a phantom sound that made your heart ache.

You allowed yourself one indulgent moment of memory, one small surrender to the warmth of the past. In that instant, you could almost feel his presence beside you, could almost hear him sigh as he lay back against the grass and urged you to do the same. Tulip, he’d called you once, likening you to the flowers here—delicate, bright, full of life. His voice drifted through your mind like a warm breeze, and you closed your eyes, feeling the bittersweet pang of loss settle deeper into your chest.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the quiet, and you froze. It was the low murmur of a familiar voice—Seokmin’s voice—wafting toward you from the entrance of the garden. You barely made out the words, some easy greeting exchanged with Minghao as the two approached. The cadence of his voice was softer now, more mature perhaps, but unmistakably his. In an instant, the fragile calm you’d managed to summon evaporated, replaced by a panicked urgency to flee.

You turned on your heel, lifting your skirts as you hurried toward a narrow, shaded path, heart pounding as if you were a trespasser in your own sanctuary. You slipped behind the thick ivy-covered trellis, your fingers clutching the delicate lace of your gloves as you pressed your back against the rough wood. There, hidden from sight, you held your breath, willing your heart to quiet, afraid he might hear it even from a distance.

He paused at the garden’s entrance, his voice carrying lightly on the breeze, mingling with the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a voice you had known too well, one that had once woven a thousand dreams in these very gardens. But now, standing there alone and concealed, all you could feel was the sharp edge of those dreams turned to dust.

You dared not look, dared not even breathe until his voice faded and the crunch of gravel beneath his feet grew distant. Only then did you step out from your hiding place, the scene around you as unchanged and pristine as ever. But it felt different, achingly empty. He was gone, and so, you realized, was something inside you.

Your shoulders slumped as you turned away from the gardens, swallowing against the emotion lodged in your throat. You would not come here again—at least, not alone.

That first year passed slowly, the memory of him shadowing you at every event, every garden, every dance, leaving you both haunted and empty.

The Second Year: Autumn Age 20

As autumn arrived, the weight of that lost season faded slightly, turning to something colder, something sharper. You found yourself no longer seeking him out at every ball. Instead, you steeled yourself, donning an unapproachable mask that suited you better with each passing day. Your brother had chosen to spend the season traveling, claiming that the sea salt of Grecian air was calling him. The absence of his protection meant that you had to sail the rough shores of that season alone – Minghao’s letters were frequent and welcomed, always ready to provide words of assurance from thousands of miles away. 

Your second season was to be markedly different—by your design and no one else’s. The naive enthusiasm of your first season had faded, replaced by a wariness that had hardened around you like a shell. Suitors still called upon you, though they were fewer and far between, and the gentlemen of impeccable standing, those your mother deemed suitable, grew distant with each passing event. They would approach with polite intentions, murmuring some pleasantry or another, only to bow and make haste to another part of the room where more receptive young ladies waited. 

Yet, for all the polite avoidance and empty conversation, there was Lord Yoon Jeonghan, the Viscount of Hastings. He was different—not at all the cold and detached nobleman that society often produced, nor the vapid fop more concerned with his cufflinks than his conversation. He was witty, charming even, and his remarks would often spark a laugh that you could scarcely suppress. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time you spoke, as if you were unraveling a particularly delightful mystery, and for those brief moments, he made you almost forget.

Almost.

You felt his gaze often, lingering in the spaces between words, and sometimes, if you were honest with yourself, it was almost enough to ease the ache that had taken root in your chest. There was a certain warmth to his presence, a lightheartedness that let you slip free from the burdensome weight of the past. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his interest immediately. She seized upon his attentions with thinly veiled glee, her gaze often flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating. She would arrange you beside him at dinners, leave you in his company at the slightest opportunity, her encouragement subtle yet unmistakable.

Jeonghan would lean in close, his words laced with humor, often turning some mundane observation into something absurdly funny. And for a fleeting second, the laughter would come easily, a balm to the bruised and hidden parts of yourself. You allowed yourself to think, Maybe this could work.

But the quiet, hollow ache lingered, a constant reminder of the ghost you could not quite shake. And that ghost was Seokmin.

Seokmin, who watched from across the room, his gaze burning, perceptive as ever. He was polite, distant even, but his presence was always there, like the flicker of candlelight that neither dimmed nor died. You could feel it most keenly when you danced with other men, swirling across the floor to the strains of violins and cellos. Once, as you stepped onto the ballroom floor with Jeonghan, you felt Seokmin’s gaze settle on you from across the room. The intensity of it was enough to make your skin prickle, and suddenly you were painfully aware of every step, every turn.

The first misstep was subtle—a slight stumble over the Viscount’s foot. But as you met Seokmin’s eyes, his brow lifted ever so slightly, a smirk hovering just on the edge of his mouth. That subtle, amused expression set your pulse racing in a way you would never confess. And in your distracted state, you stumbled again, this time nearly losing your balance. Jeonghan chuckled, mistaking your lapse for some charming display of nervousness, too oblivious to realize the true reason for your faltering steps.

Seokmin’s gaze, however, saw straight through you. His smirk was knowing, almost taunting, as though he could see past every mask, every effort you’d put into your newfound resolve. It was maddening—the way he could still get under your skin, the way he seemed to enjoy watching you unravel, even if only for a second. The lingering effects of that look stayed with you long after the music ended, clinging to you like perfume.

And so, you spent the season caught between two worlds. Lord Yoon, with his charm and his lightheartedness, who could ease the bitterness that lay thick upon your heart if only for a while. And Seokmin, a relentless presence, haunting you from across every ballroom and garden, his gaze a tether you could never quite sever. It was a delicate dance, one you performed night after night, hoping, in vain, that one day you would not feel his eyes on you at all.

The afternoon sun angled low over the estate, bathing the drawing room in a cool October light that poured through the high windows, softening the sharp edges of the day. Minghao had just returned from his travels and had brought back a novel he thought you would enjoy—Jane Eyre, by a Miss Brontë. The air was thick with the quiet thrill of this gift, the promise of evenings spent lost in its pages, and you had just begun to express your excitement when Minghao, with his usual calm, announced that Seokmin had accompanied him.

You schooled your face to remain pleasant, though your pulse quickened at the mention of his name. And indeed, there he stood by the door, his posture polite yet tense, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. He offered a slight bow, his gaze fixed on you even as you looked firmly at your brother.

"Did you know," Minghao began, oblivious to the tension in the room as he handed you the book, "that the author published it under a man’s name? Some say it’s because she thought her work would be dismissed otherwise."

You managed a small smile, allowing yourself the momentary reprieve of this topic. “Thank you, Minghao,” you replied, fingers grazing the embossed cover. “I’ll cherish it. It sounds wonderful.”

Across the room, Seokmin shifted, clearing his throat. "Do you find time to read often these days?" His voice was tentative, a hint of hope or maybe familiarity clinging to the question, as if reaching for a bridge long burned.

Your reply was smooth and immediate, though you kept your gaze firmly on Minghao, as if Seokmin had merely been a ghost in the room. "I make time, yes. It’s quite necessary, given the, ah… limited options for conversation."

A faint hint of color rose to Seokmin’s cheeks, but he quickly smothered whatever response he had been about to make. Minghao glanced between you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pieced together the simmering tension, the edges of a puzzle he hadn’t been around to see formed.

There was a brief pause, heavy as stones, before Seokmin tried again. "Do you still ride out to the southern fields? I remember…" He hesitated, his words trailing off before he finished. “The views from the hilltops there were always lovely in the fall.”

It was a simple question, a nod to a pastime you had once enjoyed, but the memories it evoked—the two of you racing across the meadows, laughing breathlessly under the open sky, sharing quiet moments on that hilltop he spoke of—all felt too sharp, too close. You tightened your grip on the book, the rough binding grounding you in the present.

"Occasionally," you murmured, as if speaking to no one in particular. Your tone was clipped, devoid of warmth, and you let the silence stretch, long enough for the weight of his words to fade. After a beat, you forced yourself to stand, smoothing the fabric of your dress as you prepared to excuse yourself. “Please, if you’ll excuse me.”

Seokmin’s face barely shifted, yet the flicker of disappointment that crossed his features was unmistakable. "Wait, please—" he began, his hand reaching out as if to stop you. “I… wanted to know if you might—”

You looked over at Minghao, not giving Seokmin the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. “Thank you for the book, brother,” you said softly. “I’ll look forward to discussing it with you when I’ve read it.” And with that, you turned, leaving the drawing room before Seokmin could finish his thought.

You could feel his eyes on your back, a silent, unyielding weight as you retreated, but you pushed down the churning emotions in your chest.

Later, your mother found you in the library, a faintly exasperated look in her eye. "What has possessed you to act so sharply towards Lord Lee? He is a friend of your brother’s, and a gentleman. I hardly think it was necessary to snub him quite so… thoroughly."

"I simply wasn’t inclined to entertain him," you replied, not lifting your gaze from the book you had barely managed to focus on since leaving the drawing room. “It was not my intention to be rude, Mother.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “He asked after you very kindly. And if you cannot manage the simple courtesy of conversation, well…” Her sigh was laden with disappointment, tinged with the faintest trace of resignation. “It does make things rather difficult for you, don’t you think?”

You didn’t respond, clamping your lips shut and focusing on the words of Jane Eyre as if they might hold an escape. What could you say? That politeness was a currency you could not afford to spend on him? That every pleasantry only made the knife in your back twist a little deeper?

There was nothing to be done, and so you said nothing at all. The book lay heavy in your lap, unread, as your mother’s gaze lingered a moment longer, her silence more cutting than words.

The Third Year: Winter Age 21

The winter air nipped at every inch of bare skin as you stepped out of the carriage and into the towering, grand hall where that night’s ball was being held. Snow blanketed the world outside, a thick layer that muffled everything it touched, leaving only the crunch of footsteps and the soft murmur of the wind. The frost bit through your gloves, but it was nothing compared to the cold lodged deep within your chest. You drew yourself up and stepped into the hall, a practiced smile on your face as you greeted the hosts and exchanged pleasantries.

Inside, the ball was already in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction. You navigated through clusters of guests with practiced ease, inclining your head and making idle conversation that barely skimmed the surface. You had come to know the routines well, slipping into this role as though it were armor: a mask of charm, a shield of grace. It kept you safe, even as it kept others at arm’s length.

But then, just as you were making your way toward a friend by the window, you spotted him—Seokmin, across the room. He was surrounded by a small group of gentlemen, his laughter carrying over the din as he shared some amusing story. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you’d once adored. For a moment, a whisper of memory drifted to you unbidden—those nights by the garden, his laughter mingling with the soft hum of summer crickets, a harmony you’d taken for granted. The sight of him now, seemingly unaffected by the hollow ache that had lodged itself so firmly within you, twisted something in your chest.

As though he could feel your gaze, his eyes turned toward you, catching you unprepared. His laughter faded, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, regret, perhaps. Or something more resigned, an acceptance of the chasm that had grown between you. He made no move toward you; there was only a slight nod, a silent acknowledgement of… something. You couldn’t name it, and you didn’t want to try.

It was his easy return to conversation that undid you. The way he turned back to his companions, laughing once more, as if nothing had changed, as if the years you’d spent trying to bury the echoes of that ball could be erased so simply. The laughter that once filled you with warmth now rang hollow in your ears, a reminder of all that was lost and all that could never be reclaimed.

The walls of the ballroom began to feel oppressive, the cloying warmth of bodies and perfume suffocating. You pressed a gloved hand to your temple, feigning discomfort as you turned to your nearest acquaintance. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well,” you murmured, a faint tremor in your voice that you hoped was undetectable.

“Oh, my dear, are you all right? You do look rather pale,” she said with concern, her eyes scanning your face. “Perhaps some fresh air?”

“Yes,” you managed, barely holding together the thin fabric of your composure. “Yes, that may be best.”

With a polite smile and promises to catch up at the next event, you drifted toward the doorway, slipping through the crowd as unobtrusively as you could. The cold air in the entry hall was a shock, but you welcomed it, letting it bite into your cheeks and ground you.

Soon enough, you found yourself in your room, finally alone. The silent darkness enveloped you, and for the first time that night, you let yourself drop the mask. You sank into the nearest armchair, clutching the armrests as if they could anchor you. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily past the window, catching the moonlight like shards of glass. There was no warmth, no comfort in the scene, only the lingering shadows of a memory that refused to fade.

You had no energy to reach for a book, nor did you bother lighting the fireplace. Instead, you sat, letting the silence swell around you, filling the empty spaces that had been left in Seokmin’s wake. Your gaze lingered on the frost etching delicate patterns across the glass, and for a moment, you wondered if he was still at the ball, still laughing, still untouched by the winter that had settled so deep within you.

It felt almost foolish to mourn something you had lost so long ago, but as the hours slipped by, you couldn’t bring yourself to shake the feeling.

The bitterness reached new heights that year. Your relationship with Minghao, however, began to shift. He sensed your resolve, noticed the way you shrank from any mention of Seokmin, and quietly took up the role of your champion. He became your shield at social gatherings, a polite, steadfast presence whenever your mother hinted at your dwindling prospects or a suitor left you standing alone. Your mother’s eyes, ever watchful, lingered upon you with a barely hidden concern, her gaze darting to the eligible gentlemen nearby and then to you with that familiar, expectant look.

“You know,” she began in a low voice, “if you were only a touch more… approachable, it might encourage the young men here to consider you more seriously.”

You forced a small smile, the words heavy and stale from years of repetition. “I’ll do my best, Mama.”

But before she could respond, a familiar voice joined the conversation.

“Ah, I see my sister is charming everyone tonight,” Minghao remarked smoothly as he appeared beside you, offering a short bow to your mother. “May I borrow her for a moment?”

Your mother’s gaze softened—she had never worried over Minghao as she did with you, and his title afforded him some measure of leniency that you could never claim. She nodded, though her expression remained faintly expectant as she watched you both step away.

Minghao led you toward the edge of the ballroom, his arm steady around yours as you wove through the crowd. Once there, he turned to you with a look that spoke of both amusement and concern.

“You looked ready to flee,” he observed, a trace of a smile in his eyes. “Would you like a few minutes’ reprieve?”

You sighed, grateful for his intervention. “I was beginning to feel like a prized cow at market,” you replied, tone dry. “Thank you for sparing me.”

He chuckled softly, but his expression grew more serious as he studied you. “I noticed Mother watching you rather closely. And I know her remarks can be… persistent.”

“Persistent is a kind way of putting it,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper. “She insists that my chances dwindle each season, that—” You cut yourself off, pressing your lips together to hold back the frustration that threatened to spill over.

Minghao’s gaze softened, and he sighed, reaching out to adjust the lace of your cuff in a gentle, brotherly gesture. “You’ve nothing to prove to her or to anyone else here,” he said quietly. “If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll be here to see you through the night.”

Despite the stifling heat of the ballroom, his presence felt like a breath of fresh air—a lifeline against the unrelenting pressure of society and its expectations.

“And if any gentleman dares to turn his back on you tonight,” he added, his voice adopting a playful lilt, “I shall personally see to it that he regrets it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted into a small, appreciative smile. Minghao’s protectiveness was a comfort you rarely admitted to needing, but tonight, you couldn’t help feeling grateful that he saw past your composed exterior to the worry lingering beneath.

The music shifted to a slower waltz, and he extended his hand with a knowing smile. “Shall we dance, sister? A waltz is far more agreeable than enduring Mother’s lectures, I assure you.”

You accepted his hand, letting him lead you to the center of the room. As you twirled together, the swirling silks and laughter around you faded into the background, leaving only the familiar warmth of his presence.

After a moment, he leaned in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “And for what it’s worth,” he murmured, “you have no need of any of these foppish gentlemen. They should consider themselves lucky if they could win even a passing glance from you.”

The sincerity in his words soothed you, and for a brief moment, the ballroom was no longer a daunting place, nor its occupants a source of anxiety. Minghao’s quiet strength steadied you, his steadfast support as dependable as the rhythm of the waltz beneath your feet.

Yet, even with Minghao’s silent support, Seokmin’s laughter ringing through the ballroom haunted you, echoing a reminder of what you once had and what you had lost.

Across the room, your gaze flickered to a familiar figure, the Lord Viscount Yoon, the lightness of his presence breaking through your somber thoughts. He had been different—his clever banter had a way of making even the most mundane topics feel lively and engaging. When he spoke, it was as if he was inviting you into an exclusive circle of shared secrets and laughter, making you momentarily forget the weight of expectations pressing down on you. 

Even now, he stood amidst a group of gentlemen, engaging in light banter that sent ripples of laughter through the crowd. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time he caught your gaze, but he looked away just as quickly, as if your newfound prickly attitude was enough to scare him away. 

Over time, your disinterest had made him less willing to approach you. Though he had shown interest the previous year, the glow in his eyes now held a tinge of uncertainty, as if he had begun to doubt whether your heart remained open to him. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his hesitance, her gaze flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating.

“Perhaps if I were a bit more approachable,” you murmured to Minghao, who nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward Jeonghan.

“Sometimes, it takes more than just approachability,” he replied quietly. “He is a good man, but the more you withdraw, the more he may think he should step back.”

You let the thought linger in your mind, but it was soon drowned out by the sight of Seokmin across the room, leaning in to laugh politely with another woman, a vision of laughter and ease that made your heart twist painfully. The vibrant atmosphere of the ball blurred around you, filled with the laughter of others while your own heart sank, caught between the past and the possibility of a future—one you feared might never be yours again.

The Fourth Year: Spring Age 22

Spring came late that year, but the blossoms in the garden were the most vibrant you had ever seen. Tulips, bright and full of life, lined the path outside your drawing room window. Their sight brought an unwelcome reminder of Seokmin, as if they were mocking the pain that had dulled over the years but never truly healed.

One fateful morning, Seokmin arrived at the estate again, waiting for Minghao in the drawing room. You entered the room unaware of his presence, intending to retrieve a letter you had left on the table. The shock of finding him there, standing alone, was enough to root you to the spot.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. “How have you been?” he asked, breaking the silence, his tone formal but softened by something more vulnerable.

“I try to stay busy,” you replied, refusing to meet his gaze, your own fixed on the tulips outside the window, as if they alone could fortify your resolve. The way they leaned toward the glass, reaching out, seemed a cruel reminder of what you could never reach. You clung to your indifference, fearing that one look at him would undo you.

“Ah,” he replied, his voice barely a murmur. “I see.”

The silence was unbearable, stretching long and wide between you, filled with all the words you had left unsaid. For the first time, you could sense his unease, as though he, too, felt the weight of everything that had come between you. You imagined he might say more, but instead, he fell silent, unwilling or unable to breach the chasm.

When Minghao finally entered the room, his gaze shifted from Seokmin to you, sensing the tension immediately. He offered a warm, lighthearted greeting that brought some relief, yet you felt exposed, as though Seokmin could still see every last flicker of pain beneath your carefully controlled exterior. Minghao’s easy conversation filled the room, and you seized on it as a lifeline, grateful that the moment had passed.

But as you left the drawing room, something inside you felt irrevocably changed. The wound you thought had healed now ached anew, as raw and fresh as ever.

Age 22

The season has turned again, and as you step into the grand ballroom, you are met with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that fill the air with an electric energy. The chandelier overhead sparkles like a constellation of stars, its crystal droplets refracting the warm glow of candlelight that dances across the room. The polished wooden floors gleam underfoot, reflecting the vivid hues of the gowns that swirl around you like petals caught in a gentle breeze.

After five seasons on the market, the whispers of society have cast you in the role of a spinster. No longer the young debutante brimming with promise, you now find yourself almost a chaperone to the eager, wide-eyed debutantes navigating their first seasons. Your newest charge, Sohee, is a whirlwind of youthful exuberance, her bright pink dress adorned with intricate floral appliqués that seem to bloom against her pale skin. The bodice sparkles with tiny beads, catching the light as she twirls, her laughter ringing like bells. You can see the nervous energy in her movements, the way her hands flutter as she points out various gentlemen across the ballroom.

“Oh, look at Lord Lee—what a fine dancer!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement as she gazes at Seokmin. His deep navy jacket contrasts sharply with the pristine white of his shirt, and the cravat around his neck is tied with an effortless elegance that only enhances his charm. The way he carries himself, relaxed and confident, seems to draw the attention of everyone around him.

You try to mask the bitterness rising within you as you observe him. Seokmin entertains Sohee’s infatuated chatter with polite smiles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. For a fleeting moment, you are grateful that she has captured his attention, but then the weight of your own feelings crashes over you like a cold wave. The ache in your chest deepens as memories flood your mind—long summers spent chasing fireflies, laughter echoing through the fields as he playfully pursued you with a worm on a stick, or the way he would reward your sharp tongue with that unguarded, carefree laughter.

As if drawn by some invisible thread, Seokmin’s gaze suddenly shifts, catching yours from across the room. Your heart leaps into your throat, a jolt of surprise and embarrassment coursing through you. Mortified that he has noticed your lingering stare, you quickly avert your eyes, but the warmth of your cheeks betrays you. You want to disappear into the vibrant crowd, to escape the intensity of your emotions that seem to swell with every passing second. Yet, even as you force yourself to engage with Sohee’s exuberant chatter, you can feel the weight of Seokmin’s gaze resting on you, a silent reminder of everything you’ve lost and the connection you once shared.

It is a cruel twist of fate, standing on the sidelines while young girls like Sohee chase the dreams you once held so dear. You find yourself in this role, a guide for the naive and hopeful, all the while wishing that you could feel that same thrill of possibility. The grand ballroom, alive with laughter and music, feels both enchanting and suffocating, each dance a reminder of the joys that have slipped through your fingers.

As the music swells and couples begin to sway across the polished floor, you catch glimpses of Sohee and Seokmin amidst the swirling gowns and dapper jackets. They move with an innocent delight that contrasts starkly with the weight of your unspoken feelings. Sohee beams up at him, her laughter bright and infectious, and for a moment, the sight softens the edges of your heartache.

Just then, you feel a presence beside you, and when you turn, you find Viscount Yoon Jeonghan standing there, a knowing smile dancing on his lips. His appearance is as striking as ever; his tailored coat hugs his frame perfectly, and the delicate embroidery along the cuffs catches the light, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His hair falls elegantly around his face, framing those sharp features that always seem to hold a hint of mischief.

“They make quite a pair, do they not?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and warm as he gestures subtly toward the young couple. His eyes sparkle with a mix of humor and curiosity, and for a moment, you’re reminded of the lighthearted conversations you once shared, the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

You glance back at Sohee and Seokmin, your heart twisting at the sight of them. “It seems so,” you reply, your tone nonchalant, though the bitterness seeps through. “She is quite taken with him.”

Jeonghan’s gaze lingers on the two, but then shifts back to you, an amused glimmer in his eyes. “And yet, I believe it’s Seokmin’s charm that keeps her so enchanted. He has a way of making everyone feel special, does he not?” His words are light, but there’s an underlying sincerity that pulls you in.

“Especially the younger ones,” you add, your voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. You cross your arms, an instinctive barrier against the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Jeonghan tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes you self-conscious.

“Ah, but don’t let that dampen your spirits,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I suspect that there’s still magic left in your own waltz.”

You scoff softly, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I’ve had my dance, my Lord. It’s only right that I help guide the next generation.”

He nods, as if he understands more than you’ve revealed. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little bit of the spotlight yourself, does it?” His gaze holds yours for a moment longer, an invitation hanging in the air between you.

Taking a deep breath, you accept his invitation with a gentle nod. Jeonghan extends his hand, and with a sense of determination, you place yours in his. The moment you step onto the dance floor, a familiar spark ignites between you. As you move, you find the rhythm of the waltz is an intoxicating escape from the weight of the evening.

His touch is confident yet gentle, guiding you with an ease that sends warmth through your veins. You laugh softly at his playful quips, the way he effortlessly spins you and twirls you beneath the glimmering chandelier. The surrounding laughter and chatter fade into a soft background hum as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.

But just as you begin to forget the lingering ache in your heart, a commotion draws your attention away. You glance over to find Sohee in an animated conversation with Seokmin, her eyes wide with excitement. She appears to be swooning—her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink as she clutches her fan, fluttering it in the air as if to cool herself.

And then it happens. As the waltz concludes and the music reaches its crescendo, Seokmin leans down to retrieve Sohee's fan, which had slipped from her grasp in her flurry of emotion. The way he effortlessly picks it up and hands it back to her is undeniably charming. She gazes up at him with unrestrained adoration, and in that moment, it’s as if the entire ballroom falls silent, the air thick with their connection.

Your heart sinks, the joyous moment turning into a bitter reminder of your own unfulfilled longing. You feel the weight of your own feelings crashing down, suffocating the lightness of the dance you just shared with Jeonghan. The innocence of Sohee’s crush, her delight at Seokmin’s attention, stabs at something deep within you, twisting the knife of your heartache just a little deeper.

“Lord Lee is such a gentleman,” Sohee breathes, her eyes sparkling with admiration. You try to smile, but the corners of your mouth feel heavy, the happiness you should feel for her overshadowed by the ache in your chest.

“Quite the pair, indeed,” Jeonghan murmurs beside you, his tone shifting slightly. You glance up at him, but the amusement in his eyes has dimmed, replaced with a knowing sympathy that only intensifies your discomfort.

“I should—” you start, desperate to escape the scene unfolding before you, but Jeonghan catches your gaze, his expression serious yet gentle.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, concern lacing his voice.

You swallow hard, nodding even though you can feel the tears threatening to brim. “Yes, of course. It’s just… a reminder of what I’ve lost.”

Jeonghan’s eyes soften, understanding radiating from him. “Then let’s step outside for a moment, shall we? A breath of fresh air might do you good.”

You nod again, grateful for his presence, and together you slip away from the dancing couples, leaving behind the laughter and music, hoping the cool night air will ease the weight on your heart. As you step outside, the crisp night air envelops you like a silken shawl, drawing you away from the swirling gaiety of the ballroom. The coolness is a welcome reprieve from the warmth of bodies and laughter, and you relish the soft caress of the breeze against your skin, bringing with it a gentle rustling of leaves that whispers secrets from the garden. The scent of blooming jasmine and sweet honeysuckle mingles in the air, heady and intoxicating, wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace.

You move to the stone balcony, where the moon hangs low in the sky, its silvery glow spilling over the manicured gardens below, illuminating the delicate petals of the flowers that sway gently in the evening light. The grass is cool beneath your feet, a delightful contrast to the warmth of your silk gown, and you can feel the slight dampness of dew beginning to settle on the earth, a reminder of the approaching night.

Fidgeting with the lace hem of your gown, you feel the fabric whisper against your ankles, the soft silk cool to the touch. Your heart races as you catch sight of Jeonghan stepping out to join you, his tall frame silhouetted against the glow of the moonlight. He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You love him,” he states matter-of-factly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” You turn to him, surprise etched across your features. Your fingers tighten around the delicate lace, twisting it nervously as if it could shield you from his piercing gaze.

“It is nothing to shy away from,” he continues, his tone surprisingly earnest. “I have observed the two of you for years, engaging in this delightful dance around each other. You love him. That is a fact. Do not shy away from it—love is a beautiful thing, even if it is tinged with loss.”

You force a laugh, the sound almost bitter. “You sound as though you speak from experience.”

“And if I am?” Jeonghan counters, his brow arching slightly, inviting you to delve deeper into the conversation.

“Why, then,” you reply, your heart racing with a mixture of intrigue and dread, “it cannot be that only my secrets are shared tonight.”

“Lady Choi,” he says, the shift in his tone unmistakable, as though he is unearthing a long-buried truth.

“The general’s wife?” you ask, the name escaping your lips with an air of disbelief.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, the lightness of the evening is overshadowed by the weight of his admission. “She was mine first,” he admits, his voice heavy with unspoken emotion. “But her father—he was a cruel man—wished to marry her off before I ever had the chance to court her properly, as adults.”

You draw a sharp breath, the air suddenly feeling thick and heavy around you. “Lord Yoon, it is a sin to desire another man’s wife,” you say softly, your fingers trembling slightly as they continue to play with the delicate fabric of your gown.

“And it is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours,” he replies, a note of melancholy creeping into his voice. “It seems we are both trapped in a most unfortunate dilemma, Miss Xu.”

You hesitate, the truth of his words resonating within you like the toll of a distant bell. You find yourself gazing at the garden below, the moonlight casting long shadows across the path. “I… suppose.”

His expression softens, the tension between you easing slightly as he steps closer, the distance shrinking as if the night conspires to bring you together. “I have an idea, if you are amenable to it,” he proposes, his voice low and conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piquing despite the tumult of your thoughts. “I suppose I have no choice but to hear it.”

“Let us… have an arrangement of sorts.”

Your mind races, the absurdity of the suggestion both ludicrous and strangely enticing. “An… arrangement?” you repeat, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“A loveless marriage is better than none at all,” he declares, his eyes glinting with a mixture of seriousness and mischief.

You laugh, unable to contain yourself. “You jest. Have you indulged in more champagne than you can manage?”

“I assure you, I am as clear-headed as the sky on a summer’s day,” he insists, maintaining eye contact with a steady gaze that makes your heart flutter. “We are friends, are we not?”

“Friends? My lord, we have danced a few times, to my mother’s delight,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your voice, though your heart feels heavier with the weight of his words.

He feigns a look of mock hurt, placing a hand theatrically over his heart. “You wound me! We have enjoyed such spirited conversations! I do consider you a friend. And a marriage with a friend—a viscount at that—is nothing to scoff at. Have you given no thought to your future? What happens when your dear brother finds a wife and you are no longer his primary concern?”

The reality of his words settles over you, sending a shiver down your spine. You search the moonlit path, pondering the path that lies ahead. “Just… think about it,” he presses, his voice earnest, the night seemingly holding its breath.

The silence stretches between you, the world around you fading as you consider the proposal. You raise your gaze to his, a flurry of emotions swirling in your heart.

But as the moment hangs in the air, he steps back, creating a chasm of space between you once more. The hope in his eyes flickers like the stars above, illuminating the path of unspoken possibilities.

With a lingering glance, Jeonghan turns to leave, the quiet night reclaiming its stillness. Alone now, you stand beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, a companion that seems to mock your predicament, its light dancing across your skin like a playful breeze. The weight of the evening settles around you, the possibilities of what could have been lingering like a sweet perfume in the air. The garden around you, fragrant and alive, seems to echo your turmoil, the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets a reminder that you are not as alone as you feel—but still, the loneliness wraps around you like a heavy cloak, suffocating and inescapable.

The Queen’s Garden is even more stunning at twilight, an exquisite tapestry of flora bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Lanterns hang from the branches of ancient trees, casting a warm glow that mingles with the fading daylight, creating a magical ambiance that enchants every guest present. Lush greenery and blooming flowers adorn the paths, their fragrant scents—jasmine, roses, and honeysuckle—drifting through the air like a sweet serenade.

As you weave your way through the throngs of elegantly dressed nobles, the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth radiating from the lively crowd. The sounds of laughter and spirited conversation wrap around you, punctuated by the delicate notes of a string quartet nestled among the trees, their melodies intertwining with the soft rustle of leaves overhead.

Amidst the gaiety, you scan the faces around you, searching for Sohee. Her absence hangs like a whisper, pulling at your awareness.

Just then, your gaze lands on Lord Yoon Jeonghan, standing across the garden. His tall frame commands attention, and as you meet his eyes, he offers you a teasing wink, a smirk dancing on his lips. He raises his glass in a casual salute, a playful reminder of the “arrangement” he proposed only weeks prior.

But as you turn to continue your search, you hear a soft rustle behind the curtains of the powder room. A frown creases your brow, and with a sense of trepidation, you pull the curtains aside.

What you find steals the breath from your lungs: Sohee, her dress slightly askew, caught in an intimate embrace with Seokmin, hidden from view. Time seems to freeze as you process the scene before you, the vibrant colors of the garden fading into a blur.

They don’t notice your entrance, the warmth of their laughter drifting toward you, blissfully unaware of the precariousness of their moment. A wave of urgency washes over you; you step back, the laughter and music of the ball dimming behind you, overwhelmed by the tension in the air.

The cool mask of indifference you wear feels like a fragile façade, barely holding up against the storm of emotions roiling within you. Every heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythmic reminder of the tension crackling in the air. You force yourself to breathe slowly, deliberately, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mingling with the sharp tang of night air filling your lungs.

You clear your throat, breaking the stillness that envelops the hidden corner where Sohee and Seokmin stand. Your posture is straight, your chin lifted, but your palms feel clammy against the lace of your gown.

“Sohee,” you say, your voice steady and cool, as though dipped in ice, “you should return to your Mama. If anyone else had seen you like this, it would ruin you.” The words hang in the air, each syllable heavy with consequence. You hold her gaze, your eyes fierce, willing her to understand the gravity of the situation.

Sohee’s eyes widen, vulnerability flickering across her face like candlelight. The flush staining her cheeks deepens as she processes your words, a mixture of mortification and gratitude washing over her. She nods, biting her lip, and you watch as she slips past you, shoulders squared despite the embarrassment, grateful for your discretion.

Once she disappears back into the sea of guests, the atmosphere shifts. It’s just you and Seokmin now, the weight of the moment pressing down like a thick fog, the sounds of the ballroom fading into a dull roar. For the first time in years, you stand alone with him, the years of silence and distance palpable between you.

You turn to leave, the flutter of your gown trailing behind you, but his voice stops you, soft and tentative, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Please, don’t go.”

You whirl around, disbelief etched across your features. “Why on earth? What are you doing here?” Your heart pounds, and your fists clench at your sides, the intensity of the moment clawing at your composure.

He takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking, but the space feels charged with electricity. The use of that name—“tulip”—falls from his lips like a spark igniting a fire inside you. Anger bubbles to the surface, your fingers curling into fists. “You have no right to call me that anymore.”

His expression shifts, desperation creeping into his tone as he opens his palms, a gesture of vulnerability. “It’s been four years, and you still won’t give me the chance to explain myself.”

Your chest tightens at the memories, sharp and unyielding, a storm of emotions swirling within you. “So was it because Minghao told you to?”

His gaze darkens, the flicker of regret visible in his eyes. “Yes, but you need to—”

“Good evening, Seokmin.” The words slip from your mouth like ice, cold and final. You turn to leave, your back straight but your heart racing, and he reaches for you, fingers brushing against your arm like a whisper.

You jerk away, anger and hurt surging through you, the fabric of your dress catching in the air as you turn. “Please, stay,” he begs, his voice thick with emotion, almost desperate. “Stay and let me explain—”

You shake your head slowly, each word heavy with the weight of unspoken history. “You lost the right to that four years ago.” Your voice softens, but the resolve behind it remains, a quiet storm ready to break. In a flurry of lace and silk, you turn on your heel, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the thick grass as you leave him standing there, a distant silhouette against the vibrant backdrop of the garden.

The night air feels cooler as you weave through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. You seek solace in the bustling ballroom, where laughter and music swirl around you, a cacophony that drowns out the echo of your heartache. The warmth of the candles flickers against your skin, the soft glow momentarily comforting amidst the chaos.

The crowd shifts around you, a blur of color and laughter, but everything feels muted—distant—as you navigate back toward the main hall. Your heart still pounds, each beat a reminder of the encounter that lingers, bitter as smoke. And then, across the room, a familiar pair of eyes finds yours: Jeonghan. His gaze is intent, assessing, and as he raises his glass to you with an amused smirk, his words from weeks before echo in your mind: “It is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours.”

The decision is instant, unbidden, like the snap of a thread pulled too tight. Steeling yourself, you weave through the crowd toward him, your mind clearing with each step. Jeonghan turns slightly as you approach, his attention shifting from the men he’d been conversing with. You stop just a breath away, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you, even as laughter and chatter fill the air.

“My lord,” you say, voice steady as a blade.

He raises an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Miss Xu?” His eyes gleam in the low light, the gold of the candle flames reflecting in them. “I must say, you look rather lovely in this garden.”

“Yes.” The word is simple, yet it feels like a vow, a quiet certainty.

His smile falters for just a second, replaced by a glimmer of surprise in his eyes before he quickly recovers. He leans in slightly, his voice softened but no less intent.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm but resolute. “I shall marry you.”

Jeonghan’s expression settles into something unreadable, a flicker of surprise replaced by the slightest tilt of a smile. He inclines his head, the elegant motion drawing him closer, as though sealing the moment between you.

“A wise decision, Miss Xu,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. The sounds of the garden around you blur into silence, the perfume of roses and night-blooming jasmine heavy on the air, and though the world presses on with its merriment, this quiet promise, made in the hush of the queen’s garden, feels irrevocable.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits@moondustmemories@shinwonderful@ivehypnosis@gwend0lyne@thestoryofana13@mellowamour@blissedjoon@begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld @archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange @uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

[crow-of-ohio]

Needless to say I am hopelessly dependant on the parasite

(Ive made a few hc changes to how the fresh parasite looks and works, and I wanted to make some kickass art w my redesign/rework of both fresh and the parasite itself. Original concept and character belong to @loverofpiggies ofc! More info on my reimagining under the cut)

Bee tee dubs here's the three developmental stages of the fresh parasite in my rework: Bapy, Long Boi, and Host Bonded. My interpretation has them as semi-magical creatures that latch onto souls and hijack their magic. When attached to monsters, they can alter the monster's magic to reform their body (to have more Fresh features and clothing). When bonded to humans, they can't exert any force on their body beyond puppeting it, as human bodies are not made of magic, but they will seek out clothing and make body modifications to fit the Theme.

Many freshly-bonded parasites will not have full control over the host body, rather exerting influence over the personality of the still-awake host. The longer the parasite is using the host, the more they can develop their own personality and take full control of the body.

Both Long Bois and Soul Bonded parasites are able to propagate! One of their tendrils just falls off and becomes an infant parasite. A healthy colony will usually only have the drones, which are all Long Bois, propagating, but if there is an emergency and most/all of the hive is dead, the hive queen (usually the Soil Bonded, as hives love inside the stomach and chest cavities of the hose) is able to propagate at most six new drones at a time.

The hive queen is able to telepathically communicate with members of their own hive.

Because Fresh is the only one of his species to be traveling the multiverse that I know of at least, if crayon queen wants to descend from on high (/j) and tell me differently I'll eat my pants but be grateful, every single worm in the known multiverse is a part of his hive, even if there are other hive queens living in different hosts. They all come from fresh! However, once a new queen takes a host, the telepathic bond with Fresh is impacted, and they can only hear each other from normal speaking distances away, which isn't very useful actually but who cares?

[vortexbloom]

Hello there...I just passed around here to say....

DROP ANYTHING WITH YANDERE MAVUIKA, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS.....

pretty please with cherry on top :D

YESSSS 😭, like there still isn’t any Yandere Mavuika Stuff on Tumblr or anywhere at all !!!

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕧𝕦𝕚𝕜𝕒 𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 (ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤)

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 - 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕥

𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

Pairing: Yandere Mavuika x Reader

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Warnings: Obsessiveness, Isolation, Possessiveness, Manipulation etc.

English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

Also, I don’t own any Characters like Mavuika!

Anyway, have fun reading this :)

Protective to the Extreme

Mavuika‘s natural role as a protector of Natlan balance extends to you. She sees herself as the sole guardian of your safety and happiness, even if it means taking away your freedom.

Possessive Archon

As someone with a powerful presence, Mavuika considers you her divine blessing. She believes that you’re meant for her alone, and any threat to that bond feels like sacrilege.

Gentle yet Terrifying

Around you, Mavuika is soft-spoken and affectionate, but her darker side emerges when someone crosses her boundaries. Her wrath is as inevitable as a natural disaster.

Acts of Service

She goes out of her way to protect and care for you, whether by providing you with rare treasures or shielding you from danger. Every act is a declaration of her devotion.

Words of Affirmation

Mavuika constantly reassures you of her love, though her words carry a possessive edge: "You are mine, my light. No one else deserves to even look at you."

Physical Touch

She loves to keep you close, often placing a protective arm around you or pulling you into an embrace. Her touch is gentle yet firm, as if she’s afraid to let go.

Subtle Manipulation

Mavuika might act polite and graceful, but her words to potential rivals are cutting. She sows fear and doubt, ensuring they keep their distance.

Elimination through Power

If someone persists in challenging her claim, Mavuika uses her power to quietly remove them. Accidents, banishments, or mysterious disappearances are common.

Warnings Disguised as Kindness

She’ll smile sweetly while delivering chilling threats to anyone who gets too close to you: "It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you… wouldn’t it?"

Constant Presence

Mavuika never truly leaves your side. Even when she’s away, she ensures that her influence surrounds you, whether through protective wards or loyal agents.

Lavish Attention

She spoils you with rare and precious items, all while reminding you that no one else could provide for you like she can.

Strict Boundaries

She carefully monitors who you interact with, making excuses to keep you away from anyone she deems unworthy of your attention.

Overreacting to Small Things

If you so much as smile at someone else, Mavuika grows visibly tense. Her jealousy burns quietly but intensely.

"Marking" You as Hers

She gives you jewelry, charms, or other tokens imbued with her energy, making sure everyone knows you belong to her.

Emotional Outbursts

Mavuika‘s jealousy can lead to rare but terrifying outbursts, during which her voice turns cold and her aura becomes suffocating.

Guilt Trips

Mavuika appeals to your emotions, painting herself as someone who only wants the best for you: "Why would you leave me? Everything I do is for your happiness."

Soft Isolation

She slowly cuts you off from others under the guise of protecting you, ensuring that you have no one to turn to but her.

The Last Resort

If you ever try to escape, Maukaika will resort to more drastic measures, confining you in a safe, hidden location where she can keep you close forever.

Separations Anxiety

If you’re away from her for too long, Mavuika becomes erratic, losing her usual grace and resorting to desperate measures to bring you back.

Defiance

If you resist her control, Maukaika is heartbroken but convinced she knows what’s best. She’ll double down on her efforts to isolate and protect you.

Rival Success

Should anyone manage to get closer to you, Mavuika‘s wrath becomes unstoppable. She’ll unleash her full power to ensure no one else can claim what’s hers.

Mavuika‘s love is like a force of nature—beautiful, overwhelming, and devastating. Her desire to protect and cherish you quickly turns into a suffocating obsession, leaving you trapped in her powerful, unyielding embrace.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[kiryoutann]

i wanted to rant about simon.

what do you think so far like what are your actual headcanons for the canon simon vs this simon from this series?

my feelings about the actual simon is quite vague. i've read far more fanfictions than bothering with the actual material so my picture of his is not really...constant? idk

but with this simon, he scares me. just to think about people that can engage in such romantic and sensual acts with little to no feeling involved.

or the mc's father. her dad makes me feel such an anger and injustice that i don't know how to express it and i know we probably won't get a satisfying update on him.

you don't like your wife fine i could understand the distance between them, but how can somebody forget their child no matter if they share the same blood or not, after all the time he raised her

leaving all that behind just to start a whole new life. how can that not eat somebody alive

OHH this is actually a good question. honestly for me, simon is probably one of the hardest character to write about because he doesn't give away too much. too calm. too know-it-all.

we're just gonna talk about the romance aspects!

but based on my head-canon of the canon simon, he has those younger years where he avoids romance, but not this actively and aggressively. it's more because he has too much on his plate (anger management issues, PTSD, depression) than because he think he's not good enough for some happiness (but he also doesn't expect/hope for it.)

canon younger (probably 6-7 years after he killed Roba) Simon lives his life without the need for things to turn out in certain ways. as he gets older (yes, the 2022/2023 ghost) and better mentally, he's become a little more open to the idea, though.

he's still not actively seeking romance, settling on one-nightstands and things that don't require any strings attached. however, he's not completely closed off to the idea too. if he has someone he likes AND TRUST (this is already a high wall to get over), he might act on it. but again, not really actively pursuing it and knows he doesn't need it.

and this might come as a surprise, but he's actually the biggest flirt out there—well, at least when it's only the two of you. when in front of his taskforce, he goes back to acting like he's the calm, collected, cool, stoic, scary lieutenant that everyone knows. can't have you ruin his reputation, right?

"it's private but not secret," with him. though it's not loud PDA, sometimes he lets his hands linger in places like your waist, your hips, shoulders. his love language is act of service, gift giving, physical touch—he makes sure to always appreciate you with compliments and love affirmations, but he's never really a man who's big on words.

WHILE THIS SIMON, hmmm.. he's a bit more complicated. and a mess. at some point, you can think of him as the younger version of canon simon we just talked about to simplify it, but even that's not really accurate considering the different ways they handle "all that sappy stuff" (as simon would say). this one actively and AGGRESIVELY avoids romance.

and while they both (my ver. of canon simon and this simon) sort to flings and one-nightstands, the canon simon is more careful and actually follows the boundaries he draws himself. while this simon outlines the boundaries, follows his rules until an interesting bird enters his orbit, violates them, and destroys them himself before he goes around saying "you read that wrong, darling."

NOW, ABOUT THE FATHER. . .

RIGHT! in my opinion, it's better for them to get a divorce actually and Dad still plays a role in MC's life rather than just leaving her. like, i know it'll still hurt the MC but, at least she can still have both of her parents even though in different houses! at least she doesn't have to feel neglected in her childhood.

okay, you hate someone you thought you would love forever, but abandoning your child? whose very existence was created because of you? talk about the Dad will come up in the sequel. hell, he'll even make an appearance with his two ballet loving new daughters. imagine how MC will feel.

sadly, this happens a lot in real life. fathers leaving and starting a new life without thinking about his "old" family. how people shame single mothers but never the absent fathers. people shame many women who have "daddy issues" or call them "fatherless" yet never call out men's incapability of being a real, PRESENT father.

[daresplaining]

Hey Dare! I have been thinking about Elektra and Natasha with Matt and how similar they are. To me, they both seem to be characters that feel forced to be 'good' but know they can't be because the world isn't black and white (for example, Elektra not being allowed into the Chaste for being impure, so she becomes an assassin, Natasha being a spy but not a hero). In what ways do you think these characters are different from one another? And does Matt play a unique role in each of their lives?

I love "Dare"; thank you for that! And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to answer this.

It's really compelling to look at the parallels between Natasha and Elektra, because you're right, they have a lot in common--mainly, that they are both in professions that require a deep cynicism, a healthy emotional distance, and a very specific moral compass. They are good people molded into hard people by life, who have become very good at doing some very unpleasant things, and have found ways to live with that. I think Natasha leans far more into the realm of the term "hero"-- she has served on superhero teams and been in the public eye in that capacity, her partnership with Matt certainly placed her in the role of a superhero more than a spy, and if you were to shop for superhero merch in the Marvel universe...I'd say Black Widow would be about 90% more likely to show up on a t-shirt than Elektra. However, she is still very much a spy, with a spy's pragmatism that doesn't always align with the heroic, and she holds no illusions about who and what she is. A while back I wrote a post about one of my favorite Black Widow stories, "Breakdown", which is all about the moral distinctions between being a spy and being a superhero.

However, Natasha seems to be able to hop back and forth across that line, carrying out top-secret missions and maintaining her status as a world-class spy while also beating up supervillains alongside her superhero friends. Her goal is to do good in the world, and she is able to do so in both of these roles--largely because some Black Widow writers want to write spy stories, and others want to write her swinging across rooftops and kicking Stilt-Man in the face, and one of the fun and unique things about her character is that she can encompass both of those genres so well.

Elektra, however, is an assassin, full stop. We have the by now (I hope) classic line from the first issue of the Blackman/Del Mundo run:

"I have often tried to be something more. At nine, I dreamt of being a ballerina. But that required a form of balance I did not possess. At nineteen, I secretly studied figure painting behind my father's back. But I could never see past the models' skin and muscle. All my classes ended with half-naked canvases marred by twisted limbs and slack faces. I have even played at being a hero. But I could not bear how foolish I felt every time I spared someone who was determined to kill me. I am not a dancer, or an artist, or a hero. I am no longer a daughter or a lover...victim or student or slave. I am, and I will always be...someone's assassin."

I would suggest that this line is not fully reflective of the truth of Elektra's childhood, but is instead a fatalistic look back from her current state of mind, since it suggests the idea that she was always fated to be an assassin, which is (at least in her original origin story, which I am stubbornly clinging to for now) simply not true. Elektra was a good, hopeful, kind person backed into a terrible corner, who became very, very good at killing for money because it was the only path that seemed to be left for her after the death of her father, after her rejection by the Chaste, and after her disastrously failed attempt at taking down the Hand from the inside, which led to her killing the only mentor figure she had left and leaving her alone in the world. Elektra does not like what she is, but she is confident in what she is and she takes a certain pride in being the best there is at what she does (sorry, Wolverine). Her tragedy is, to me, far greater than Natasha's because Elektra is so often alone. In her early appearances, Natasha thought she was cursed because so many of the men she loved died, and she does experience isolation that I absolutely do not want to downplay, but just based on my reading experience, Elektra's is more painful and has continued on for far longer. She sees her world as cold and dark and drenched in blood, and the times she has tried to change that, she has failed spectacularly. All she can do is look for glimpses of light and warmth-- her rose-tinted memories of her time with Matt in college and the opportunities she has, when she allows it and when he allows it, to see him again in the present; her deep, powerful bond with Wolverine, in whom she sees so much of herself; the brief other relationships she allows herself, romantic or otherwise... Elektra has shown a tendency, over the years, of encountering and protecting young women and girls, which I think is a really nice trend, though it doesn't always end well.

Matt is a happy memory for both of them. For Elektra, the last time she was truly happy in life was that last semester in college before her father's death, and the time she spent with Matt was a part of that. She thinks of that period fondly, and her love for Matt is something that she holds close and cherishes, no matter what else has happened since. He reminds her of a better time, and while she has her own life now, she still keeps an eye on him. They've tried to get back together a few times, but it's never worked. Everything is different now. For Natasha, Matt is a reliable friend and ally, someone she can always go to. There is a strong physical attraction between them that lingers, and on various occasions, Natasha has dropped back into his life with the intention of rekindling their romance. However, it's never worked for her either (usually because Matt is dating somebody else), and that is probably for the best. While they look fondly back on their partnership, which was a romantic and exciting time for them, it was also very messy. Matt's ego struggled with dating a fellow superhero, and Natasha hated that Matt tended to undervalue her skills. Following their break-up, which was mutual and remarkably drama-free, they have remained good friends who would do just about anything for each other.

Thanks for the great question!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

characters who intentionally distance themselves from giving anything other than shallow, distant kindness to the people around them because to close the gap between them and someone they might actually be capable of loving leaves them terrified that everything else that lies dormant within their heart, all that fear and grief and anger and guilt they tamp down, will come flooding out all at once and drown them both.

if I cut myself open and allow this love to bleed, what else spills out with it? what if this desire to know you, to care for you, to be known and cared for in turn that I shoved down into a darkened corner of myself, is so deeply entangled in the ugliness I shoved down alongside it, never to be examined, as to be inextricable?

what if I hurt you?

what if I hurt the both of us? as of now, my heart may be nothing more than a trap set to snap shut on your vulnerable hands

no matter how much I wish to hold them gently instead.

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[cryptiduni]

“white mourning.”

[sysig]

Time Loops are they/them culture (Patreon)

Bonus of my little guy in ISaT style:

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

after spending all of season 2 gleefully imagining hannibal getting his comeuppance... I think mizumono broke me

[lovesickeros]

"Wow, your love kills more single people than polonium in the area"

-reader's description of darling and tsaritsa's relationship

REAL. their just peak couple goals. cheesy old married couple who adopted a stray cat they found in a dumpster (reader)

(also kills the acolytes for a double kill bc what does the tsaritsa have that they dont? >:( (they r not a pretty evil cryo woman))

[lord-squiggletits]

My idea for a meta about war and propaganda in IDW actually requires me to do some rereading so I can find specific citations for things IDW Optimus says, which is part of why I've been procrastinating so much on it. But I'm honestly really excited about it because war stories and the effects/trauma of war have always been one of my favorite genres of story, I even took an entire class on them in college. If you've read Pay Unto Evil, you know that themes about propaganda and cult of personality as justifications for war, ends don't justify the means, and violence as inherently corrosive is something I've already written about with great feeling.

Um, the exact structure of the meta isn't clear, but basically I wanted to look at IDW OP and the evolution of his attitude towards violence/war/the Decepticons as an archetypal (anti) war story. A lot of my ideas of young OP are based on how he's written in the Autocracy trilogy, so I would be putting special focus on those stories as a wah to characterize OP when he's younger (since I want more people to appreciate those stories) as a contrast to how he is when he's older.

And basically the idea is that in real life, a common story among war veterans is the fact that they went into it young and idealistic, believing that war is good or at least trusting that war is good when you're fighting on the right side of things, glorifying battle and violence and such ("dulce et decorum est pro patria mori"). And it's only when they experience war and are traumatized by it that these young soldiers realize lessons about how the soldiers on the other side are exactly the same as they are, that the reason they're fighting is for ultimately pointless reasons, and that their whole lives they were lied to in order to buy into the idea of "glorious war".

The meta would basically be centered on how IDW OP goes through this particular archetype of war story character development (not an official term), with me pointing out how IDW OP's morally dubious past is a necessary part of his lore in this continuity. Because IDW OP's position of "we have to move on from the war and stop seeking revenge, or else it will never end" is most meaningful when it comes from someone who WAS a member of the state and DID used to believe in propagandistic ideas. And it doesn't make IDW OP uniquely stupid or evil because the entire point of his kind of war story is to point out how society raises you to believe in the righteousness of violence and war and it takes FUCKING UP to realize you were wrong, that there are so many people in the world who didn't realize how deeply they were being deluded until they found themselves in the thick of pointless bloodshed. THAT'S part of why I cling so insistently to IDW OP and not erasing his "problematic" backstory, because he's so much more interesting and paints a figure so much more true to real life if you accept everything about him instead of sneering at him and calling him an idiot or an asshole.

[mourningd0ves]

I hate a bitch who goes into a fandom or themed tag/tags things with that fandom or theme just to criticize and bitch about it? Or call it boring and make people feel guilty about it? Like literally do something better with your life. I don't go in my tags for you to shit all over something that I have a relatability to or connection with. Like you 100% have the right to criticize it and even feel repulsed by it, but Tag your shit anti-(insert theme) and hang out with your own group. This isn't twitter.