#how we delve into our feelings how we express them

[imblocking-you]

Reading Lovesick Dog manhwa and something about it just...resonates

[thedensworld]

Don't Touch Mine | Y.Jh

Pairing: ceo!Jeonghan x secretary!Reader

Genre: romance, friends to lovers, angst, smut

Words count: 1k

Summary: Jeonghan had hid his feelings for you, but he had been in denial. Then, an unexpected event occurred, and everything changed.

Joshua nudged Seungcheol, subtly signaling towards their best friend, who had been casting his gaze across the entire ballroom. The two of them exchanged glances, sharing an inside joke known only to the trio, including the man himself, Yoon Jeonghan.

"Looking for Y/n?" Joshua chirped, his voice lightly teasing. It seemed to slightly irk Jeonghan, who promptly redirected his attention towards his two closest companions. He raised his glass, taking a sip of the wine that had been resting there.

Seungcheol let his eyes wander and easily spotted you standing with none other than Chwe Hansol, a budding businessman bearing a striking resemblance to the young Leonardo DiCaprio.

"Absolutely not," Jeonghan mumbled, offering a smile to the other guests who passed by and recognized the three of them.

"Then you should be alright with Y/n talking with Chwe," Seungcheol remarked, motioning towards you and Hansol. From Jeonghan's perspective, you two seemed a bit too friendly.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. "She's my secretary. It's my responsibility to ensure she doesn't make a fool of herself," he explained, eliciting chuckles from Joshua and Seungcheol.

"She's the one who saved you from that. Remember the charity ball at Jeon's group?" Joshua reminded Jeonghan of a minor chaos he had caused last time.

Jeonghan closed his eyes, trying to push away the sudden surge of old memories. Blame his low alcohol tolerance that led him to take an unplanned dive into the pond in the middle of the ballroom. He was thankful that the event had been private, sparing him from any media scrutiny.

"I hope everyone's forgotten it, like I've tried to," he sighed.

Seungcheol suddenly cleared his throat, nodding towards your location. "Kim Mingyu is approaching them," he said, an alert tone in his voice. That was enough to snap Jeonghan back to attention.

Jeonghan turned his body, observing how the casanova attempted to flirt with his secretary. Could he blame the guy? He wasn't sure. Or should he blame you for looking absolutely stunning tonight in that black dress that hugged your figure little too tight? Since he'd seen you step into his office before the ball, Jeonghan hadn't been able to shake off the effect.

"Look at that guy, he's got such a cheap stare," Jeonghan remarked to his friends, his distaste evident on his face as he observed Kim Mingyu.

Joshua playfully elbowed him in the stomach. "Alright, you're being a bit too loud, but I agree, man."

Seungcheol chuckled softly. "But the guy does have a certain charm, you've got to admit." His comment earned an eye roll from Joshua. "Are you on his side or Jeonghan's?"

Jeonghan turned to Joshua, a protest forming on his lips. Joshua simply shrugged and continued, "To make Y/n yours?"

Jeonghan scoffed, "She's already mine," he declared, before striding away from his best friends.

*

As you drove back to Jeonghan's home after the event, he couldn't help but ask, "What were you discussing with Hansol and Mingyu?"

"We were talking about our latest ad project for the release. Hansol expressed interest in a collaboration," you explained, opening your iPad to show him Chwe Hansol's company profile.

Jeonghan leaned in, genuinely intrigued by the conversation, engrossed in the work that C.Creative had accomplished. He instructed you to delve deeper into the company's projects that could potentially be worked on with Hansol and compile a report.

As you diligently took notes, he suddenly inquired, "What did Mingyu talk to you about? Is he bothering you?" You shook your head, reassuring him.

"Absolutely not. He just had some questions about our app, which I already addressed," you reassured him.

Jeonghan's brow furrowed, curiosity piqued. "What did he say?"

"Um... Just about our system on Nevitech and... some personal matters," you replied.

"Did he ask you out?" Jeonghan's direct question caused you to bite your lip, and with a hesitant nod, you confirmed it.

Jeonghan sighed, his concern evident. "Do you want me to talk to him? I can make it clear if you're not interested..."

You interrupted him, "I am actually interested in him."

Jeonghan was taken aback, blinking in surprise. He leaned back in his seat. "Oh... I didn't know you liked him."

"Like is a strong word. I'm just open to the possibility of dating... you know, it's been a while," you explained, trying to be reasonable.

Jeonghan had to admit, your dedication to him and the company was commendable. It was one of the reasons he always tried to keep you low-profile or shielded at business gatherings, out of concern that someone might try to recruit you. It spoke volumes about your potential as his secretary.

He still remembered that you had a boyfriend when you first joined the company, but after a few months, he noticed the absence. Jeonghan was never one to cross professional boundaries, especially at work. But when he finished his work and saw you waiting for him, he felt a pang of guilt. It was a Friday, and you should have been spending time with your significant other.

"You're not home?" he inquired.

You shook your head and replied, "I was waiting for you, sir."

Glancing at his watch, Jeonghan realized it was well past dinner time. "Have you had dinner?" Another shake of the head from you.

That night, you both shared a meal, and it was during this time that he learned about your breakup due to your busy schedule. He also discovered you were from the same high school and that you were his junior.

"You should call me by my name, Y/n," Jeonghan suggested casually, not expecting that this casualness would lead to whatever he was feeling these days.

"Jeonghan..." Your voice saying his name brought him back from his reverie. Those were simpler times, when nobody knew you, and he had you to himself.

"Jeonghan, we've arrived," you informed him. He turned to you, realizing you were now in the basement of his penthouse.

Nodding, Jeonghan stepped out of the car. You gave him a respectful bow before he started to walk away. Just as he took his fifth step, he turned back to you. "Y/n... Could you come in for a bit? There's something else I'd like to discuss."

You glanced at your watch, then nodded. After grabbing your belongings, you followed him inside.

*

Jeonghan awoke with a pounding headache, his reminder of his abysmal alcohol tolerance. However, he couldn't forget everything that transpired the night before.

"Y/n, I like you. A lot.'"

Immediately, he sat up, surveying the disarray he had left in his wake. He cursed himself, realizing he hadn't bothered to put on any clothes, and now you were gone. As the memories flooded back, he buried his face in his hands, anxious about how to handle the situation with you after what had happened.

A confession had led to a heated night that Jeonghan never anticipated. He berated himself, trying to dismiss any foolish thoughts, and checked the clock on his nightstand. It read 7 am, meaning he'd see you in the office in an hour. What should he do? Act as if it never happened? Apologize and insist it was a one-time thing? Jeonghan took a deep breath, resolving to go with the latter option. He was your boss, and you were his secretary. A romantic relationship between you two was impractical. It was definitely a one-time occurrence. You wouldn't see him as a man, would you? He reasoned that emotions had gotten the best of him last night, and you had been intoxicated.

That's all it was.

"Yeah... Right there... Please... J-Jeonghan..."

He groaned in frustration.

Walking into his office, he saw your silhouette already seated at your desk. He tried to steady the pounding in his chest and let out a deep sigh. He swore he'd never felt so on edge before. When he stepped into the office, you promptly stood and gave him a respectful bow. He paused in front of your desk, debating whether he should broach the subject of last night.

He gave you a nod before walking into his private room, finally able to breathe a bit easier. The knowledge that you were just meters away from him was torturous. He set his things down and sat at his desk, only to be jolted by a sudden knock. Acting out of character, he permitted you to enter with breakfast in hand.

"You got this for me?" He asked, puzzled. You blinked, as this was the usual routine every morning.

"I-I mean, you... you were gone this morning... to get this for me?" He stammered, audibly swallowing.

You nodded, "yes, please enjoy your breakfast," you calmly replied, bowing, and started to leave the room.

Jeonghan cleared his throat, "Y/n..." He hesitated, "whatever happened last night was a mistake. I'm sorry for that. It's so unprofessional of me," he began.

Your gaze met his, a pregnant pause hanging in the air. Slowly, you nodded and turned away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Days melted into weeks, the air between you and Jeonghan growing fragile. With a major project on the horizon, you both became engulfed in a whirlwind of activity, leaving little room to address the events of weeks past. Jeonghan found some solace in this.

But there was a noticeable shift. You weren't as talkative and lighthearted as before, which tugged at Jeonghan's heart. He cherished your jokes, a beacon of levity during the exhaustive whirl of meetings and paperwork. Now, your words were dominated by work, a change he couldn't help but take note of.

After a meeting with a foreign client, all Jeonghan yearned for was some respite. You both traversed the hotel corridor, you leading the way to his room.

"If you need anything, you can call my room," you offered, and he nodded, promptly entering his room.

As Jeonghan settled in for some rest, the night wrapped around him. It was nearly 10 pm when he ordered room service for dinner and summoned you to join him. When you knocked on his door, he welcomed you in, preparing the table. Just as he was about to pour the wine, a wave of memories crashed over him, stalling his hand. You looked at him with curiosity, but Jeonghan shook it off and poured the wine.

"Please, enjoy," he said to you as you both savored the meal.

The dinner continued with a brief discussion about the next day's schedule, as Jeonghan had several engagements in Singapore.

"What about the project with C.Creative?" Jeonghan reminded you about the upcoming project with Chwe Hansol's advertising company, currently working on their new release.

"I contacted them yesterday, and they're working on the proposal. When do you want them to present it?"

Jeonghan wondered, checking his schedule on his phone. "I think Friday would be great." You nodded and quickly jotted it down. "I'll email them tomorrow morning."

"Did you bring the MoU for tomorrow? I want to double-check," Jeonghan asked for the MoU file with the Singapore client to be signed the next day.

You reached for your things. As you searched for the file, an envelope labeled 'Resignation Letter' flew to Jeonghan's attention. His brows furrowed. Before you could retrieve it, Jeonghan quickly snatched it and opened it.

"You're about to resign? Why?" Surprise painted on his face, he inquired seriously.

You glanced around, avoiding his eyes, still searching for the reason you hadn't fully formed.

"I... I think it's been a while since I started working for you. I need a new experience, a new challenge to develop myself," you explained.

Jeonghan didn't seem entirely satisfied with your answer. He looked at you again and said, "Is it because of the salary? Do you want a raise? How much?"

Your eyes widened. "No, Jeonghan. You pay me more than enough. It's not about the money," you clarified.

Jeonghan tilted his head, a tinge of concern. "I don't find it reasonable for you to quit, Y/n. You know better than anyone that being my secretary in this industry is quite challenging."

You sealed your lips and let out a sigh before revealing the real reason. "I don't find it enjoyable anymore, working with you, Jeonghan."

Jeonghan felt a small twinge in his heart at your words. He slowly prodded further, "Is it... because of what happened last time?" He asked cautiously.

You nodded slowly. "I know you made it clear it was a one-time thing. But, I think it's changed a lot, between us," you said, finally expressing what was on your mind.

Jeonghan took a deep breath. "Then what's your plan?"

"Kim's Property has sent me a proposal to work for them."

Kim's Property? Kim Mingyu?

"Wait!" Jeonghan began, "You want to quit because you find that we've been unprofessional, but you want to work with Kim Mingyu? The guy who's been hitting on you?" A sudden surge of anger filled Jeonghan.

"I'll be his father's secretary, so we won't work directly with each other."

Jeonghan couldn't help but chuckle, finding it rather perplexing that you were willing to work with Kim Mingyu despite the perceived unprofessionalism. He felt a sense of injustice in this situation.

"Why? What's the real reason you don't want to work with me?" Jeonghan pressed, feeling that your previous explanations were merely excuses to distance yourself from him.

"We're being unprofessional, Jeonghan. I don't think I could continue working with you," you asserted.

Jeonghan scoffed, frustration and confusion coursing through him. "Tell me the exact reason, Y/n! You don't like me anymore? Suddenly you don't enjoy working with me?"

"It's because I do like you."

Jeonghan's mouth hung open, stunned by your candid admission.

"I've liked you since you took me to that dinner five years ago. And when you finally confessed that you liked me that night, I was over the moon. But the next morning... you said it was just a one-time thing, a mistake, and I... I couldn't look at you the same way again. I'm sorry..."

"What?" Jeonghan's voice was barely above a whisper. He rubbed his face, finally connecting all the dots from the strange tension between you two in recent weeks.

You took a deep breath before continuing, "I hope you can understand, Jeonghan," and with that, you rose from your chair and headed towards the door.

As Jeonghan saw you walk out, he immediately pulled your arm and landed his lips on yours. He pushed your body against the wall while his other hand reached the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. The kiss lasted for seconds before he pulled away. Jeonghan looked into your eyes before pulling you into another kiss. In this moment, you raised your hand to cling to his neck, savoring the intimacy you shared in the room.

"I like you. No, I love you, Y/n," Jeonghan whispered in the midst of your shared kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss and looked into your eyes, "that time wasn't a mistake. It was stupid of me to say that."

You stared at him and felt tears welling in your eyes. Your heart pounded so much when Jeonghan pulled you into another kiss, but this time with so much passion and lust. His kiss slowly trailed to your neck as his body pressed you against the wall, almost enveloping you. He tapped your thigh, motioning for you to jump on him, and you hugged his waist with your legs. His hand roamed your figure, and his other cupped your cheek.

"May I?" He asked, his gaze never leaving yours. You nodded slowly as he took your shirt off and unclasped your bra. He kissed your chest as one of his hands went to one of your breasts.

"You're mine, Y/n. You're mine."

*

Jeonghan's eyes wandered across the ballroom, searching for your figure as Seungcheol spoke to him. "Are you even listening, Yoon Jeonghan?"

Seungcheol's words pulled Jeonghan's attention, causing him to turn his head towards his friend. He hummed in response, nodding as if he had been listening. Seungcheol chuckled at his best friend. "Looking for Joshua?"

"Yeah... Is he late? He said he'd be here in ten." Jeonghan muttered, glancing at his watch.

"There he is," Seungcheol said, motioning towards Joshua, who was approaching them.

"Alone?" Seungcheol asked Joshua. Joshua shook his head. "She was talking to someone earlier," he said, pointing to where his secretary was. Jeonghan immediately turned his head in that direction.

"Stop looking for my secretary!" Joshua nudged Jeonghan's arm.

Jeonghan scoffed, "She was mine before yours," he mumbled, finally spotting you in conversation with a woman.

"How can she look that stunning?" Jeonghan remarked to Joshua and Seungcheol when he saw you in your silk red dress with your hair down.

As he watched the tall Kim Mingyu approach you, Jeonghan promptly handed his glass to Seungcheol and made a beeline for your location.

"Hi honey, you look gorgeous," Jeonghan interjected, interrupting your conversation with Kim Mingyu. The Casanova seemed taken aback by Jeonghan's bold move as his hand gently reached for your waist and he planted a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

Mingyu let out a chuckle. "Is this the reason you joined Joshua's company? Because you're together."

Jeonghan smiled at Mingyu and pulled your body closer to his, gazing at you tenderly before leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Yeah, she's mine."

[rafayelxsylusho]

These are just making my stomach flip!😍😍

Now I wanna know is...how would our beautiful boys react if y/n/MC was trying to get them jealous instead?

💅🏻

Sorry it took such a long time!! I was planning on posting them all together but I'm still working on the other three.

Enjoy!!

How do the LADS men act when they are jealous Part 1

Zayne/Xavier

Zayne's lips crashed against yours the moment the front door clicked shut behind you, his strong hands gripping your waist and pulling your curves flush against his muscular frame. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim every inch of it.

"Mmm, I've been waiting for that all day," Zayne murmured against your lips. His hands began to wander, sliding up your sides and cupping the swell of your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. You gasped into his mouth, your own hands fisting in his dark hair as you pressed closer to him.

Zayne took the opportunity to walk you backwards, his lips never leaving yours, until your back hit the wall. He pinned you there with his hips, one hand sliding under your skirt to grip the back of your thigh while the other fisted in your hair, forcing your head back to expose the column of your throat to his hungry mouth.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point before biting down, marking you. You cried out, head falling back against the wall with a thud, your hips bucking against his as you felt his hard length pressing insistently against your core.

"Zayne," voice high and breathy with need. "We can't... not here..." You protested weakly even as your body screamed for his touch.

"Then let's take this to the bedroom," he said, his voice a low growl. In a flash, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the hall to your room. He kicked the door shut before tossing you onto the bed, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his hazel eyes.

"I want you," he said, his hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt up around your waist. "I want to feel your skin against mine, your body under me as I make you scream my name." His other hand slid under your shirt, pushing the cups of your bra down to free your aching breasts. "I want to taste every inch of you."

He was acting differently than usual, his slow and sensual pace replaced by a desperate need to claim your body. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours as his hands stilled on your bare skin. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, tracing your fingers along his jawline.

Zayne's expression tightened briefly before he shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing's wrong," he assured you, his voice low and smooth. "I just... I want you. More than anything." His hands began to move again, sliding down your sides and hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. He tugged at them, pulling them down your legs until he could toss them carelessly to the floor. He settled between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your core as he leaned down to capture your mouth in a kiss.

"I need to be inside you," he said, his voice a low growl against your lips. "I need to feel you around me, hear you moan my name as I make you come undone." You arched up against him, your nails raking down his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Then take me"

His grip tightened on your thighs as he flipped you over onto your stomach, your skirt still bunched up around your waist. He pressed his palms against the small of your back, urging you to arch it and lift your hips, exposing your bare ass to his hungry eyes.

"Like this," you heard him say "I want to see you like this, all laid out and ready for me to take you." His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading the globes as he positioned himself behind you. His large hand pressed firmly against your upper back, just below your shoulder blades, pinning your face down against the mattress. Your heart raced at this new position, this level of dominance you weren't used to from him.

He leaned over you, his muscular chest pressing against your back, his hips nestling between your thighs. "Keep your ass up for me."

His hand slid down your spine again, his fingers splaying across the curve of your ass. He gripped the flesh hard, squeezing and kneading, before delivering a sharp smack to one cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, followed by your startled gasp.

Zayne growled in approval, his hips rolling forward to grind his hard, clothed cock against your bare folds. "Fuck, you have such a perfect ass," you could hear the sound of the zipper of his jeans lowering with a soft hiss "I can't wait to sink my cock deep inside your tight little cunt." He punctuated his words with another smack to your ass, this time on the other cheek. Then, without warning, he gripped your hips tight and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cried out into the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as he began to move, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. This was a side of him you'd never seen before, a raw, primal hunger that both thrilled and frightened you. But most of all, it ignited a fire within you, a burning need to submit to his every demand.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Zayne snarled, his hips never faltering as he took you with a ferocity you'd never expected. You tried to move your hands, craving the feel of Zayne's skin against your palms, but he was having none of it. In a show of raw strength, he grabbed your wrists and pulled your arms back, using them as leverage to yank your hips harder against his, impaling you even deeper on his throbbing cock. "Ahh!" you cried out, back arching as he hit a spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your walls clenched around him, trying to draw him even further in, as if your body was desperate to keep him buried inside. "Keep still, let me fuck you like I need to fuck you." His grip on your wrists tightened, holding your arms behind your back as he continued his relentless assault on your pussy, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.

The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, striking that sweet spot inside you with every drive of his hips. Wet sounds filled the room as he rutted into you, the force of his thrusts making your ass jiggle and your tits bounce beneath you. You could only hold on for dear life as he used your body for his pleasure, claiming you in a way that made you feel owned, possessed, utterly and completely his.

You felt Zayne release your wrists, your arms dropping limply to your sides as you gasped for air. Before you could catch your breath, he leaned over your back, his muscular chest pressing against you, pinning you down. One large hand splayed across your stomach, holding you in place as his other hand dipped between your thighs. You could feel his fingers brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit, gathering the slick evidence of your arousal.

"Suck," Zayne commanded, his voice a low, dominant growl in your ear. He pressed his fingers against your lips, coated in your juices, demanding your obedience. Your lips parted instinctively, and he pushed two long digits into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. The taste of your own slick exploded across your taste buds, heady and intoxicating.

"Taste how wet you are for me," Zayne rasp, his hips never stilling their relentless rhythm as he fucked into you. "Taste how much your little cunt is dripping for my cock."

He curled his fingers inside your mouth, stroking along your tongue, as his other hand slid up to wrap around your throat. He didn't squeeze, just rested his hand there, a reminder of his dominance, his control over your pleasure.

"Such a good girl, taking my cock so well," he praised, his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck.

He tightened his grip around your throat as he yanked you back against his muscular chest, your back arching to accommodate his demand. At the same time, he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, brushing against the back of your throat as he fucked your mouth with the same relentless pace as his hips thrusted into your cunt.

His hand on your throat slid down your trembling body to find your aching clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rough circles. Drool leaked from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving tits.

"I'm not going to last much longer," Zayne panted, his hot breath washing over your neck and ear. "Tell me," he growled "Tell me you're mine, that this sweet little cunt belongs to me. Say it, Y/n."

He pinched your clit hard, rolling the tender flesh between his fingers as he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt. "Come on, let me hear you say it," Zayne demanded, his hazel eyes blazing with possessive desire. "Tell me you're mine, that your pleasure, your body, your soul... it all belongs to me. Only to me." His fingers pressed against the roof of your mouth, holding you in place as he felt his heavy balls draw up tight.

"Do it," he snarled "Give me what I want, and I'll give you what you need. Say the words"

The realization hit you like a train, the understanding that Zayne's intense, almost feral claiming of your body stemmed from a place of jealousy. Seeing you with Caleb this afternoon had ignited a primal need in him, a desire to assert his ownership of you, to mark you as his and his alone. As the truth sank in, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision going white as ecstasy consumed you. "I'M YOURS!" you screamed, your voice raw and hoarse from the force of your release. "ALL YOURS, ZAYNE! EVERY PART OF ME BELONGS TO YOU!"

Your pussy clamped down around his cock, rippling and fluttering as you came undone. Your body convulsed in his arms, shaking and trembling as pleasure wracked through every nerve ending. Drool leaked from your open mouth, tears streamed down your face as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hip, holding you in place as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible. His cock jerked and throbbed inside your walls as he found his release, painting your insides with thick ropes of his cum.

In that moment, you knew you would do anything, give anything, to feel this way again. To be possessed so completely, so utterly and irrevocably, by the man you loved. You'd never felt so thoroughly used, so owned, and it was everything you never knew you needed.

Zayne collapsed against you, his muscular chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as the aftershocks of your shared orgasms rolled through you.

"Mine," he said tenderly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "All mine.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to watch you smile at someone else?" he asks quietly. "To see their eyes linger on you just a moment too long, and wonder..."

He trails off, jaw clenching. His hand on your waist tightens slightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip.

"No one gets to have you like I do," he tells you fervently. "No one gets to see you come apart, to hear you say my name like it's the only word you know." His other hand slides up your thigh, under the hem of your skirt. His fingers find the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tracing maddening patterns that make you shiver.

"I've seen the way he looks at you. Like he's trying to memorize every curve, every inch of your face." Xavier's hand slides higher up your thigh, fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. "A man doesn't do that unless he's imagining all the ways he wants to touch you." He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip as he tilts your chin up to force you to meet his gaze. The pad of his thumb pushes into your mouth, tracing the smooth, slick flesh.

"You can't tell me he was just being friendly. I know better." Xavier's voice drops to a low murmur, his breath mingling with yours. "A man always wants more when he looks at you the way he does. And I won't let him have it."

Xavier hooks a finger under the fabric of your panties and tugs them roughly to the side, exposing your most intimate area to the cool air of the room. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your glistening folds, he traces a single finger along your slit, teasing, not quite touching where you need him most. His touch is maddeningly light, barely a whisper of skin on skin. It makes your hips cant forward, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"And no one else gets to feel this pretty little pussy clench around their cock," he murmurs, pressing a finger just inside your entrance . He pumps it slowly, shallowly, barely breaching you before pulling back out. "Fuck, you're so tight. Always so fucking tight for me."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub with light touch. Your head falls back against the couch, a soft gasp escaping your lips. His finger pumps a little faster, a little deeper, but still not enough. Never enough. Suddenly he buries his face between your thighs, not allowing you to see his expression, his eyes. He knows how much you love watching him, reading the raw desire and hunger in his gaze as he pleasures you. But now, lost in the shadow of your skirt, he denies you that thrill, leaving you in the dark about his intentions.

His tongue parts your folds, a long lick from your entrance up to your clit, he focus his attention there, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with a fervor that borders on punishing. It's intense, almost too much. He feels your hands moving to lift your skirt, to give you a clearer view of what he's doing to you. But before you can, he warns you off with a sharp nip to your clit that makes you gasp and jerk against him. "Ah-ah-ah," voice muffled against your flesh. "Keep your hands off." he tightens his grip on your ankles, holding your legs spread wider, locking you in place. The stretch is delicious almost painful, leaving you open and exposed to his hungry mouth.

He dives back in, tongue delving deep into you. He's relentless, his assault on your senses unyielding. Lick, suck, nibble, he works you over with a single minded intensity that steals your breath and sets your nerve endings ablaze. You can feel the vibration of his low groans against your core as he loses himself in tasting you.

He's punishing you, in a way. Punishing you for the way you tease him, for the way you make him crazy with jealousy. Punishing you for the effect you have on him, the power you hold over him. "Xavier," you gasp out, voice ragged with need. "Touch me...please..."but he just hums against your clit and suckles harder, flicks his tongue faster, pushing you closer to the edge. But still, his hands remain locked around your ankles, holding you down, keeping you at his mercy. He's proving that he can bring you to the heights of pleasure without even touching your breasts, without even grazing your nipples with his fingers.

When he feels your body tense, your walls fluttering around his invading tongue as your orgasm crashes over you, he moans against your core, the vibrations prolonging your peak, drawing it out until you're writhing beneath him. But even as the aftershocks fade, he doesn't stop, his tongue continues its merciless dance, licking and suckling your over sensitive flesh. He ignores your gasped pleas for him to stop, for him to give you a moment to catch your breath. Instead, he doubles down, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from you.

Your hands fist in the fabric of your skirt, gripping tightly as you try to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations. But the pleasure is too intense, too much. Tears spring to your eyes as he overstimulates your nerve endings, pushing you to the limit of what you can take.

"Xav, please..." you gasp out, voice ragged and broken. But he pays no attention to your plea, continuing his punishing rhythm.

He's never done this before, never pushed you so far past the point of no return. It's overwhelming, the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting focus of his desire. Your second climax builds quickly, your body responding to his skilled mouth with a speed that leaves you breathless. You're drowning in sensation, lost in a sea of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. And still, he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, driving you ruthlessly towards another shattering peak.

He pauses when he feels your legs straining against his grip as you try to free yourself from his hold. He looks up, silvery hair falling back from his face as he meets your eyes. His eyes are dark, nearly black with desire, the blue irises barely visible in the dim light.

"Watch me," he commands, voice low and rough with need. "I want to see when you cum this time."

As he speaks, he releases your ankles, allowing your legs to fall open, fully exposing you. In one swift motion, he removes your skirt and panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. Leaving you bare, vulnerable and at his mercy again.

His hands slide up your thighs and pushes your legs further apart, until you're spread wide, open, and ready. His eyes never leave yours as he leans in, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "Keep your eyes on me," he orders, before his mouth is on you again, tongue delving deep, fucking you with a fervor that steals your breath. His eyes bore into yours, watching, waiting, savoring every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. The pleasure is intense, the intimacy overwhelming, as he demands your complete surrender, your total focus. There is no escape, no distraction. Only the two of you, locked in this moment of raw, primal connection. He drives two fingers deep into your aching core as his tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit. The sudden intrusion, the stretch, the fullness, it's too much. Your orgasm crashes over you, back arching off the couch, a silent scream tearing from your throat. He feels your walls clench, gripping his fingers like a vice as your release floods through you. He pumps his fingers in time with the strokes of his tongue, drawing out your climax until it consumes you entirely. Your eyes, hazy and unfocused, meet his intense gaze. The black of his pupils has swallowed all but a thin ring of blue, his stare almost feral in its hunger. He's watching you, watching the ecstasy play out across your face, committing every second of your pleasure to memory.

"Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful when you cum. So perfect."

Only then does he pull away, fingers slipping from your dripping core, tongue licking your essence from his lips with a low, satisfied groan.

"That's it, baby, you did so well. Took everything I gave you like a good girl."

He stands, the sound of his zipper echoing loudly in the charged air of the room as he frees himself. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him, hard and heavy and straining towards his abdomen, the thick length of him making your mouth water, but before you can react further, he is picking you up, strong arms encircling your waist as he sits down on the couch, settling you on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place. "Hold onto the couch," voice low and rough with need. "Keep yourself up, baby. I'm going to fuck you now."

"Keep your hands right there. Don't move them from the backrest." At the same time, he's already tugging your shirt up and over your breasts, exposing you to the cool air, your nipples harden instantly. He leans down, hot mouth latching onto one aching peak, tongue swirling and suckling greedily, his teeth graze the sensitive bud. His other hand is on your neglected breast, pinching and plucking, heightening your arousal.

You squirm in his lap, hips rolling instinctively, seeking friction, seeking him. But his grip on your hips tightens, holding you still, keeping you in place. "Please," you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. "Please, Xavier..."

"Shh, I've got you, baby," he murmurs against your breast, soothing you even as his touch inflames your desire. He takes his time, laving your breasts with long, slow licks of his flat tongue. He knows how sensitive you are, how easily he can reduce you to a writhing, begging mess with just this simple act. He's mapping every inch of the soft swells, tracing the curves and valleys with a thoroughness that speaks to his intimate knowledge of your body's responses. His tongue swirls around one straining peak before he suckles hard, pulling the tender bud deep into his mouth. At the same time, he's circling your clit with the leaking tip of his cock, the thick head sliding through your slick folds, catching on the sensitive bundle of nerves with each pass.

You're panting now, hips rolling desperately, trying to take him inside, to feel that first delicious stretch as he fills you. But he's teasing you, tormenting you with the promise of his thick length, denying you that final push.

"Please," you whimper, voice breaking on a moan as he laves your other nipple with the same attention. "Please, Xavier, I need...I need..."

But he's lost in his own world, consumed by the taste and feel of you, the way you tremble and mewl so sweetly for him. He's drunk on the power he holds over you, the way your body responds to his slightest touch as if starved for his caress. He pulls back slightly, his intense gaze locking with yours. His eyes are ablaze with a hunger that steals your breath, a primal desire that makes your heart race. "Look at me, can you see the way I'm looking at you right now? That's how he was looking at you. Like he wanted to devour you whole, like you're the only thing that matters in this world. But only I get to see you like this, only I get to make you fall apart."

To punctuate his words, he bites down on your nipple, a sharp sting that blends deliciously with the pleasure coursing through your veins. At the same time, he rubs your clit with the broad head of his cock, circling and pressing, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you hurtling over the edge. When your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clench, gripping nothing, making you feel empty.

"Fuck, yes, cum on my cock," he growls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he thrusts up, sheathing himself inside you to the hilt in one powerful stroke, you cry out when you feel the delicious stretch. He's so big, stretching you to your limit, claiming every inch of you. And then he's moving, hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he starts to fuck you. Slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, to the delicious drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

Xavier feels your body going limp, the aftershocks of your intense orgasm leaving you boneless and spent. You're collapsed against his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to catch your breath. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, gripping tight, and tugs your head back. The sharp sting of pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure still sparking through your nerves as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, voice low and rough with desire. "Give me one more. I know you have at least one more in you. Just one more, for me." His other hand slides down to grip your ass, squeezing the supple flesh, pulling you harder against him. He's still thrusting into you, still fucking you with deep, powerful strokes that hit that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Look at me," he demands, fingers tightening in your hair. "Look at me while I make you cum again, y/n. I want to watch your face as I fuck you through another one." He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth as thoroughly as he's claiming your body. He swallows your whimpers and moans, drinking down every sound of your ecstasy as he drives into you. "I...I can't," you whimper, voice ragged and weak, your body trembling with exhaustion. "It's too much, I'm too sensitive..." But he cuts off your protest, gripping your hair even tighter, forcing your chin up with his thumb pressing hard against it.

"Yes, you can," he insists, dark eyes blazing into yours with intensity. "And you will. I know you have more in you. I can feel it. Your body was made to take everything I give you, to crave it." He proves his point with a sharp thrust, grinding against that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. A strangled cry escapes your lips, back arching as much as his grip on your hair allows.

"Found it ," he groans, picking up the pace, fucking into you harder, faster. "Take it, baby. Take everything I have to give you. Your cunt is mine, your orgasms are mine. I decide when you're done."

His other hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. The dual sensations, the relentless stimulation, it's almost too much. Tears spring to your eyes from the intensity of it, from the way he's pushing you beyond anything you've ever experienced before.

"Come on," he urges "One more. Give me one more. Let me feel this greedy little pussy grip my cock. Fuck, you're so close, I can feel you squeezing me. Do it, baby. Cum for me, scream for me, let me hear that pretty voice crying my name." His words wash over you, commanding, urging, pushing you to the brink of another shattering climax. Your body is on fire, nerves singing with pleasure, every inch of your skin hypersensitive and alive. When your orgasm crashes over you, it's intense and overwhelming, stealing your breath and your sanity. Your mouth falls open as your release floods your system, your walls clamping down around him. "XAVIER!" you cry out, voice echoing through the room, surely carrying through the thin walls of your apartment. "FUCK, XAVIER!"

He snarls, a feral sound of pure satisfaction, and then he slams into you one last time. His cock pulses, throbbing as he hilts inside you, painting your insides with thick ropes of his cum. He grinds against you, making sure every last drop is seated deep inside you.

He holds you tight as you both come down from the heights of your shared climax. Your bodies are slick with sweat, chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. His softening cock stays nestled inside you, a claiming presence that makes you feel owned, possessed.

"Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Such a good girl, giving me that last one." He rocks you gently, arms wrapped around you like a protective shield, as the last tremors fade away. You're exhausted, drained, utterly spent, but you've never felt more content, more complete. You're exactly where you're meant to be, right here in the arms of the man you love.

Before the overwhelming exhaustion can pull you under, before you collapse completely against his strong chest, you whisper the four words that Xavier has been desperate to hear fall from your lips. "I love you, Xavier." you breathe out, the confession soft but clear in the quiet of the room. Your voice is hoarse from screaming his name, raw from the intensity of it all, but the feeling behind it is undeniable. For a moment, the only sound is the ragged rhythm of your breathing, the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of your lovemaking. Then, you feel it, a sudden, sharp increase in the pace of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It's a rare occurrence, this display of emotion from Xavier. He's always so controlled, so calm and collected, even in the heat of passion. But your whispered declaration has shaken something deep inside him. His arms tighten around you reflexively, crushing you against his chest as if he's afraid you might disappear if he lets you go. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, hear the hitch in his breathing as he processes your words. He's silent for a long moment, and for a terrified second, you wonder if you've said something wrong.

The last thing you hear before you succumb to slumber is the rhythm of Xavier's heartbeat, and the whispered words that seal your fate. "I love you too," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Forever."

[basset-babe]

five times: the fourth.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: emotinal distress, tears, vulnerability

word count: 6.1k+

a/n: can't believe i'm writing this to a t. swift song lol let's just say miss y/n is in her lover girl era (as she always has been duh!) apologies for the loooong delay, here is the fourth! enjoy! ciao raga!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the fourth.

A gentle knock echoed at the door as Grandmama stood at the threshold of my study. "I shall be with you shortly, Your Grace. I merely need to finalize these accounts for our subjects," I replied softly my nose buried deep in papers, my voice perhaps subdued as I tallied the month's expenses.

"Y/N dear, I am merely here to check on your well-being," she remarked, gracefully lowering herself onto the velvet chair by my desk. The soft rustle of her gown accompanied the taps of her cane with her movement. "This laborious work should be left to our stewards. The task of accounting is their duty, after all. I have compensated them generously, for I can no longer endure the perplexity of these numbers," she continued waving her hand, and her tone a blend of authority and genteel exasperation. The flickering candles' light cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the rich wood paneling and the intricate embroidery of her attire.

I chuckled softly at her remark and looked up from my work. "I understand, Grandmama. While we do employ capable estate managers, surely it is prudent to review our accounts ourselves from time to time," I responded, but gave her a quizzical look as she is dressed for the night. "But I see you are dressed quite elegantly. Is there an occasion I am unaware of? Am I amiss of something?"

Grandmama's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as she responded. "Ah, my dear, have you forgotten? The Bridgerton Masquerade Ball is tonight. I rather suspected you might need a reminder," she said, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she adjusted the folds of her gown. "It appears you have been quite forgetful of late, given how much you’ve been gallivanting about recently."

I scoffed as I placed my quill down. "Me? Gallivanting? Whatever gives you the idea that I have been gallivanting, Your Grace?"

"You may be the season's paragon, Y/N, but you are my blood, and I know you well," Grandmama replied, rising with a regal air, her cane tapping the wooden floor of the study with a soft but firm rhythm. "And you are under my roof. Best to remember that nothing escapes my notice in my own home."

I felt a flush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks. Her knowing gaze left me momentarily speechless as she stood to close the door.

"Dear, you may not consider me one to meddle or delve into the ton’s gossip sheet—Whistledone or whatever it is called, I do not pay mind—I am quite aware of the mention it made of you and your suitor, Mr. Bridgerton, on the past week." she said tinged with concern. She sat on the nearest couch and motioned I join her by sitting beside. "Amazingly, it has blown over. You know how the ton moves from one gossip to another but I couldn't not help but wonder how you are doing."

"Grandmama, how did you really know?" I moved towards her, the weight of last week's events pressing heavily upon me. Her calm demeanor offered a comforting invitation to discuss what I wished to forget but could not.

"Ah, Deborah told me. Our servants talk, you know."

"This is all part of the courting, isn't it? The season is not yet concluded, yet none of the other suitors compare to the connection I feel with Benedict, Grandmama." Some steamy connection by ivy tendrils we have then, I thought.

Her Grace regarded me with a gentle but concerned expression, her voice carrying the weight of years of experience and care. "My dear, courtship is a wondrous journey filled with emotions that can sweep one off their feet. Your connection with Benedict is undoubtedly special, and I can see the joy it brings you." She paused, a hint of sadness touching her eyes. "But remember, my darling, our world can be both beautiful and unforgiving. While love is a treasure, marriage brings not only joy but also stability and the assurance of a secure future."

Her hand gently rested on mine, a gesture of comfort and guidance. "The ton's expectations and the passing of time are relentless. I hope you find someone who cherishes you and our family's legacy as much as Benedict seems to do. Your happiness and our honor depend on it. Unfortunately, we both are all but women."

"Grandmama," I began, my voice almost amiss on what to say, "I know the importance of our family’s legacy, and I am grateful for your guidance. But I can't ignore the small voice within me that longs for something more than just duty."

"Benedict is… admirable, and perhaps he does see you for who you are," Grandmama says softly, her gaze piercing as ever. "But I wonder—can he truly grasp the dreams that live inside you, the ones that defy the walls society builds around us? Or would those dreams wither in a life governed solely by duty and honor?"

With that, she turns toward the door, her graceful movements echoing her own years of mastering the role she now urges me to consider. I watch her, words slipping from my grasp, feeling almost foolish as I stand there in silence. I know her intentions are good; she has always devoted herself to guiding me, preparing me to inherit our family legacy. After all, she is my Grandmama, a Viscountess—and a formidable one at that.

Pausing briefly at the doorway, she casts me one last knowing glance. "Well, then," she says, her voice light yet layered with meaning, "do make haste if you intend to be charmed by any particular prince at tonight’s ball. I daresay the heir to your heart might be waiting… if only you’re brave enough to seize him."

And with that, she sweeps out, leaving me alone with the delicate ache of her words—an ache that lingers as I consider just what I desire beyond the expectations of our world. Her departure stirs something restless within me, a longing that stretches beyond gilded halls and fine silk gowns, reaching for something I cannot quite name.

But I do know this: tonight, at the masquerade ball, I owe a certain prince charming at least one dance, or all the dances of the night.

The carriage rattled gently as it wound its way through the cobblestone streets, its lanterns casting flickering shadows on the elegant facades of London’s finest houses. I leaned back against the plush seat, my gloved hands clutching the sapphire-encrusted mask Grandmama had insisted I wear. Her words lingered in my mind, an intricate web of wisdom and caution.

Was she right? Could Benedict truly grasp the essence of my dreams, the ones that extended far beyond the season’s fleeting amusements and whispered promises?

The thought clung to me like ivy as the carriage slowed, its wheels crunching softly over the gravel of the Bridgerton estate. From the windows, I could see the golden glow spilling from the ballroom’s tall windows, accompanied by the faint strains of music.

“You’ve arrived, milady,” the footman announced as he opened the door. I smoothed the folds of my gown, its deep sapphire fabric shimmering like a calm sea under moonlight, and took his offered hand to step down.

The scene was dazzling, even from the courtyard. Carriages lined the drive, and figures adorned in silks and masks ascended the grand staircase in pairs and clusters. Laughter mingled with anticipation in the crisp night air, and my heartbeat quickened.

I adjusted my mask as I reached the top of the steps, the intricate design both concealing and amplifying my identity. Tonight, I could be someone else, if only for a moment. Someone bold, someone unencumbered by the weight of my family’s legacy.

The footman at the entrance nodded, his white-gloved hand pulling open the door to reveal a world of light and color. The ballroom was alive with movement, the guests spinning like constellations against a backdrop of gilded grandeur. Chandelier crystals glittered like stars, and the scent of roses and honeyed wine lingered in the air.

I stepped inside, my entrance drawing a few curious glances that quickly melted into polite nods. My late arrival had not gone unnoticed, but the anonymity of the masquerade granted me a somewhat reprieve.

Across the room, I spotted Grandmama near the far wall, her crimson gown a beacon amidst the swirling crowd. Her discerning gaze met mine for a brief moment, and though she did not approach, her slight nod spoke volumes. It was a moonlit night, and the crisp air of London's season hummed with anticipation. The Bridgerton estate had outdone itself, hosting a grand masquerade ball to celebrate the close of yet another bustling social season. The manor glared with golden light, spilling from tall windows, and masked guests moved like wraiths of silk and jewels across the polished floors. The air buzzed with murmurs and laughter, and the melodic strains of a string quartet.

As I descended the marble steps into the heart of the ballroom, a hush seemed to ripple through the crowd. It was subtle, a shift in the air that only those attuned to the nuances of the ton would notice. The Season’s Paragon, as they so often called me, had arrived.

I felt the weight of their gazes—curious, admiring, envious—all fixed upon me. The soft rustle of my gown against the polished floor was the only sound I registered amidst the symphony of murmurs and the faint strains of the orchestra. The sapphire hue of my dress, paired with the glittering mask, seemed to catch the light in just the right way, casting a glow that matched the chandeliers above.

Whispers followed me like shadows.

"Is that Lady Y/N?"

"She always knows how to make an entrance, doesn’t she?"

"Late, but worth the wait," another murmured, their voice tinged with awe.

I held my head high, my mask granting me the confidence to ignore the flutter of nerves in my chest. Tonight, I was not just the dutiful granddaughter or the heiress to a noble title—I was a mystery, a dream wrapped in silk and jewels.

At the base of the stairs, a figure stepped forward. His tall frame was unmistakable, his presence commanding despite the anonymity of his own mask. Benedict Bridgerton. His gaze locked onto mine, and I swore the air between us grew warmer, charged with an electricity neither of us could deny.

"Lady Y/N," he greeted, his voice a low timbre that sent a shiver down my spine. He bowed slightly, the movement elegant and deliberate. "Fashionably late, as always. You have the uncanny ability to steal the room’s attention, even when you try not to."

"And yet, Mr. Bridgerton, I find myself wondering if you waited just long enough to see it," I replied, a playful lilt to my tone.

His lips curved into a smile, one that reached his eyes. "You wound me, my lady. Would you deny me the pleasure of the first dance after such a dramatic entrance?"

The orchestra struck up a waltz, the perfect cue for his outstretched hand. I hesitated for only a moment before placing my gloved hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle, and as he led me to the center of the floor, the crowd parted like waves for us, their murmurs fading into the background.

The music swelled, and we began to move. Benedict’s hand rested lightly at my waist, guiding me effortlessly through the steps. The world around us blurred, the other dancers mere apparitions as our movements synchronized in perfect harmony.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said softly, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

"I’ve been busy," I replied, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Busy," Benedict repeated, a bitter edge creeping into his tone, though his lips curved into a faint, rueful smile. "I suppose that’s one way to phrase it. But tell me, Lady Y/N, is it the kind of busy that fills your day… or the kind that keeps your heart at bay?"

His words hung in the air between us, the waltz carrying us effortlessly across the floor. His hand on my waist tightened just enough for me to notice, a silent plea he couldn’t quite mask.

"You presume too much," I replied, keeping my voice light and measured, though I refused to meet his gaze directly. The truth there—his yearning, his ache—was too much, and I dared not confront it here, under the eyes of the entire ton.

"You think me a fool," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned in closer under the guise of guiding our dance. "But I see it in your eyes, Lady Y/N. You feel it too. What we shared that night—after the party—it wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t nothing."

The memory of that night rushed back unbidden: the laughter and daring beneath ivy-covered arches, the sharp taste of wine and sweeter whispers in the shadows, his hand brushing mine in a way that left my skin alight with a thrill I hadn’t felt before—or since.

"And what would you have me do, Mr. Bridgerton?" I asked, my voice laced with feigned indifference. "Shout my secrets to the rafters? Proclaim to all that I—," I caught myself, pulling back from the edge of an admission I wasn’t ready to make. Instead, I tilted my head, my lips curving into a soft, disarming smile. "You misunderstand me, sir. Whatever you think you know of me… you do not."

He faltered for a beat, his step out of sync with the music, but quickly recovered. His jaw clenched, and I felt his frustration simmering beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

"You’re wrong," he said after a moment, his voice strained with an emotion I could not name. "I know you better than you think. Better, perhaps, than you know yourself."

The final strains of the waltz swelled, and with it, the tension between us reached its breaking point. As the applause of the crowd erupted, I curtsied, the movement graceful and deliberate, before he could press me further.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Bridgerton," I said, my tone polite but distant, an unspoken barrier erected between us.

"Lady Y/N, wait," he said, reaching out as if to stop me, his voice now raw and almost pleading. "There’s something I must ask you—something I’ve carried since that night…"

But I didn’t give him the chance. "Another time, perhaps," I interjected smoothly, retreating a step with a faint smile. "I find I am in need of some air."

Before he could protest, I turned on my heel and glided toward the terrace doors, the cool promise of the garden beckoning me away from his questions, his gaze, his unrelenting presence.

The night air was crisp against my skin as I stepped into the garden, the distant murmur of the ballroom fading into a hushed symphony of rustling leaves and the gentle trickle of a fountain. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my gloved hands gripping the stone balustrade as I gazed into the moonlit expanse.

The wisterias surrounded me like cascading waves of lavender, their delicate blooms swaying in the cool breeze. I sank onto the bench at the center of the hedge maze, my chest tightening with each unsteady breath. My gloves, damp from the heat of my frustration, slipped from my fingers onto the ground. I didn’t bother picking them up. Instead, I reached for my mask, undoing its clasp with trembling hands, and set it beside me as tears finally spilled over.

I tried to steady myself, inhaling deeply and exhaling shakily, but the ache inside me only seemed to grow stronger. My thoughts swirled, tangled like the vines above me. I couldn’t ignore the pull Benedict had on me any longer, no matter how hard I had tried. It was maddening. Every time I pushed him away, every time I told myself I could avoid him, the universe conspired to prove me wrong.

My heart felt like it might burst from my chest, the weight of it all pressing down on me. How could he stir something in me that I didn’t even understand? It wasn’t fair.

“Y/N.”

I froze, my name a soft plea carried on the night air.

I looked up, startled. Through blurry eyes, I saw him standing there, framed by the moonlight and the wisterias. His expression twisted something deep inside me—concern, longing, and something I couldn’t quite place.

Before I could gather my words, he was in front of me. He knelt down, his hands reaching for mine, but then he did something that undid me completely—he pulled me into his arms.

His warmth enveloped me, and the tears I had fought so hard to control came pouring out. My sobs shook me, muffled against his shoulder, and his arms only tightened around me as if to shield me from the world.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice gentle, yet filled with a quiet strength that seemed to wrap around me like a comforting embrace. “I’m here with you, and I won’t leave you, I promise.”

I clung to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. For a moment, I allowed myself to rest in his embrace, to feel the steadiness of his heartbeat against mine. But the storm inside me refused to quiet.

I pulled back slightly, enough to look at him. “Could you truly grasp the essence of my dreams, Benedict?” My voice trembled as I spoke. “The ones that extend far beyond the season’s fleeting amusements and whispered promises?”

His brows furrowed, and he looked at me with a tenderness that made my breath hitch. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Let me understand.”

I hesitated, searching his face for any sign of ridicule or dismissal, but all I found was a quiet intensity. Taking a shuddering breath, I let the words spill out.

“I can’t live a life bound by society’s expectations,” I admitted. “I don’t want to be confined to the role of a dutiful wife, expected only to bear heirs and keep a perfect household. That can’t be all there is for me. I need more, Benedict. I want more. I want to be more.”

Tears welled in my eyes again, and I turned my head away, ashamed of the vulnerability I’d just laid bare. “I don’t know if you could ever understand that,” I whispered.

To my surprise, he gently cupped my face, his touch warm and steady as he turned me back to him. His thumb brushed away a tear, and he leaned closer, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sure, “I would never ask you to give up your dreams. Whatever it is you desire, whatever you want to become, I want to be the one who stands beside you, not the one who holds you back.”

I stared at him, his words sinking into the cracks of my guarded heart.

“You are so much more than what society expects,” he continued. “And if that means defying every rule to let the world see you for who you truly are, then I’ll defy them with you. Every step of the way.”

A soft sob escaped me, this one born of something other than despair. I reached up, my hand resting against his cheek, feeling the warmth of him under my touch. “Benedict…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I mean it,” he said, leaning into my hand. “Whatever it takes. You’re not alone in this.”

His words hung in the air like a charged current, his eyes never leaving mine as I absorbed the weight of what he was offering. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, making him look almost ethereal—yet it was his sincerity that struck me with full force.

“Marry me,” Benedict’s voice was quiet but filled with an urgency that left me breathless. He cupped my face more firmly, his touch tender yet desperate, as if the words had been long buried in his heart, waiting for the right moment.

I blinked, unable to process what I had just heard. "Marry you?" My voice was a whisper, torn between disbelief and an ache I hadn’t known how to name until now.

He nodded, his expression unwavering. “Yes. Marry me, Y/N.”

I took a shaky breath, my chest tightening. "But... Benedict, you don't understand. I—"

He interrupted, his gaze deepening, searching mine for the truth behind my hesitation. "I do understand. More than you think. You are not just a duty, or a responsibility, or a future mother of heirs. You're more than that, and I will show you a life beyond the confines of this society. A life where we are not defined by titles or traditions but by the love we choose to share."

I looked at him, still stunned by his words, his declaration. How could he, the second son of the Bridgerton family, one of the most influential houses in London, be asking me to step away from all that? I was nothing more than a girl with dreams too vast for the world to contain. I couldn't fathom a future where I wasn't bound by duty—duty to my family, to society, to expectations.

“You—You’re not the perfect cut of the ton either,” I whispered, my voice trembling with confusion. “Why would you choose this life? To be tied to someone like me, someone who defies the very order of things?”

Benedict’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. “Because I’m not perfect,” he said, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “And neither are you, Y/N. But I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you, truly. Not because you fit some mold or role society has set for you. I love you for the woman you are—brave, passionate, and unapologetically yourself. More than duty, more than heirs, more than any expectation of this world.”

I stood frozen, my heart thundering in my chest. Could I believe him? Could I step into a world that was not constrained by the suffocating rules of society? A world where Benedict was willing to offer me his love—freely, unconditionally?

He reached out and gently took my hand in his, his thumb tracing over the delicate skin of my wrist as he looked into my eyes, unwavering. “Y/N, marry me. And let me show you a life where we are free to live as we choose. A life where you are more than just a dutiful wife. You are the woman I love. The woman I will fight for.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time, they were different. They weren’t born of fear or confusion, but of hope, of a possibility I had never dared to imagine. Could I really leave behind everything I had known, everything I had been taught to accept, and walk beside him into a future of our own making?

“Benedict…” I whispered again, my voice trembling with something deeper now—emotion, desire, and the pull of a future that seemed too perfect to be true.

His fingers gently cupped my chin, bringing me closer to him as his lips hovered just above mine. "Marry me, Y/N. I promise you, it will be a life beyond your wildest dreams. A life we build together, without the restrictions of duty, of society’s gaze. I will give you everything I have."

I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. Could I take this leap? Could I trust him with my dreams, with my heart?

For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of all the impossible choices fade, replaced by the pull of a love that felt like freedom.

“Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping from my lips like a prayer. “Yes, I will marry you.”

The moment the words left my mouth, he smiled, his face lighting up with a joy that mirrored my own. He leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft, yet full of promises too vast for words. In that kiss, I felt everything—the weight of the world lifting, the chains of expectation falling away, and the undeniable truth that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, free.

Benedict pulled away slightly, his smile softening as he looked down at me. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away the last of the tears that had slipped from my eyes, leaving a gentle warmth in its wake. I felt as if I had just woken from some long, foggy dream, but his presence anchored me firmly in reality.

“You know,” he said, his voice teasing but still filled with that underlying warmth, “as much as I would love to stay here with you, I’m afraid someone might notice we’ve been gone a little too long.”

I blinked, the seriousness of the moment dissipating like fog in the morning sun. “Oh, goodness. You’re right,” I replied, suddenly feeling aware of the late hour, the whispered chatter inside the ballroom that I knew must be continuing without us. A small laugh escaped my lips, light and almost a bit incredulous. “What would they think of us? Disappearing into the maze in the middle of the night?”

Benedict grinned, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and affection. “They’d think we were off having some forbidden tryst, of course.” He winked. “And I’m sure some of the older chaperones would have a lot to say about that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it carrying through the night air, easing away the tension that had lingered in my chest. The weight of everything—of dreams, of responsibilities—seemed lighter now, like a distant memory. Benedict had a way of grounding me, of bringing me back to the moment, and this was one of those rare moments when the chaos of the world outside felt far removed from us.

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to give anyone any ideas,” I said, my lips curving into a playful smile.

Benedict's eyes softened again, his hand brushing against mine. “Of course not,” he said with mock seriousness. “But, truly, before anyone thinks we’ve become completely lost in here, I think it’s time to rejoin the festivities.” He looked around, almost as though the garden itself was a labyrinth of endless possibility, and then returned his gaze to me, his voice low and full of affection. “Though, I’d much rather stay here with you. But duty calls, doesn’t it?”

“Always,” I replied with a mock sigh, suddenly feeling a little lighter. His easy way of handling everything, his ability to turn the most serious of moments into something that didn’t feel so heavy, was something I found myself increasingly drawn to.

He took my hand, guiding me gently to my feet. “Come now, before someone notices we’ve been gone for too long. Let’s slip back inside before anyone becomes too suspicious.”

I nodded, allowing him to pull me along as we made our way out of the maze, the soft scent of wisteria still lingering in the cool night air. As we neared the garden’s edge, the lights from the ballroom grew brighter, and the sounds of laughter and music filled the air once again.

We paused for a moment, standing just beyond the hedge, our hands still intertwined. Benedict turned to me, his smile warm and full of promise.

“You know, the moment we step back in there, I’ll have to return to being that dashing, perfect gentleman everyone expects me to be,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “But right now, in this moment, it’s just us. And that’s all that matters.”

I chuckled softly, squeezing his hand. “Let’s keep it our little secret, shall we? The world inside can wait.”

“Agreed,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, let’s go before your Grandmama sends someone to find you. I believe she has a particular fondness for making sure you never miss the next waltz.”

I laughed again, a full, genuine sound that felt like music in my own chest. “You know, I think you may be right,” I said. “Let’s not give her any reason to worry about her wayward granddaughter.”

Together, we emerged from the maze, our laughter still echoing softly through the night, as the path ahead opened up into the grand, glittering ballroom. For a moment, it felt as though the world had paused—just for us.

But as we entered the ballroom, the illusion of time caught up with us, and with a final, lingering glance, Benedict let go of my hand, the flickering lights and polished floors once again drawing us back into the well-practiced dance of the ton.

Yet, something had changed. A shift, subtle yet undeniable. For the first time in a long while, I felt as though the masks we wore were no longer just a way to hide our true selves, but perhaps the first step toward revealing something far more real, far more powerful than any of us had known before.

The ballroom was in full swing, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the guests as the music swelled and twirled, just like the dancers on the floor. The air was thick with conversation and laughter, the weight of the evening’s festivities almost palpable. My Grandmama was engaged in lively conversation with the Dowager Viscountess, Lady Violet Bridgerton, as we stood near the drinks table, offering polite nods and smiles to various acquaintances who came and went.

“Lady Y/N, my dear,” Grandmama’s voice broke through the chatter, drawing my attention. “The last dance of the season is fast approaching. You simply must accept a few more dances tonight to close out the evening, and, of course, the season.”

I stifled a sigh, but I knew better than to argue. It was tradition, after all. And though I wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of dancing with every eligible bachelor in the room, I knew it was expected. I gave Grandmama a reassuring smile, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, Grandmama,” I replied, my voice a touch too bright, as though I hadn’t just spent the evening contemplating everything that had transpired between me and Benedict in the hedge maze. “I’ll be sure to take part in the dances. It wouldn’t do to disappoint anyone, would it?”

She chuckled softly, her sharp gaze sweeping over the ballroom as if already measuring the gentlemen who would soon approach. “Good girl. You’re much too proper for your own good, but I do hope you’ll choose a dance partner wisely.” Her eyes flickered briefly over the room, as if weighing her options.

I, however, had already begun to scan my own dance card in my hand, taking it out and glancing at the names already written across the night’s list. As I scanned the page, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, my heart fluttering slightly at the sight.

Benedict. Benedict. Benedict. His name was written on every single line. My gaze lingered on the flowing script, feeling an odd sense of warmth bubble up in my chest. It was both absurd and endearing that he had taken the liberty of filling out my entire card. A few quiet chuckles escaped me as I lifted my gaze to meet his across the ballroom.

As if on cue, Benedict’s eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the entire room seemed to fade away. The crowded dance floor, the lively chatter, the twinkling lights—all of it dissolved, leaving just the two of us locked in a gaze that spoke volumes without a single word being exchanged.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before nodding to me in acknowledgment. I could feel my pulse quicken, and for a moment, the absurdity of the situation—a card entirely filled with his name—seemed to wrap itself around me like a cocoon, softening the edges of everything else.

After a moment, Benedict began to make his way across the room, cutting through the sea of people with an easy confidence that somehow drew every eye. I couldn’t help but smile softly to myself as I watched him approach, his stride purposeful yet somehow still casual.

The ladies, including Grandmama and the Dowager Viscountess, watched him with a certain knowing air, no doubt having seen many a flirtation and polite request for a dance in their time. I could sense their amusement, though they said nothing aloud.

When Benedict reached us, he stopped just in front of me, his eyes flickering down to my dance card before meeting my gaze once more.

“I do believe I’ve taken the liberty of filling in every line of your card for the evening, my lady,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was rather hoping you might allow me the honor of the last dance of the night.”

I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. “You seem to have been rather ambitious in your choices, Mr. Bridgerton,” I replied, my voice light, though I felt my heart flutter at the prospect of a final dance with him. “But I suppose it’s only fitting, isn’t it? You’ve already danced your way across my card without even asking.”

Benedict laughed softly, a rich sound that filled the space between us. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave it to chance, could I?” he said, his grin widening as he glanced at the amused looks of the other ladies in the group. “So, will you grant me the last dance of the night, Lady Y/N?”

My gaze flickered down to my card again, then back to him. There was no escaping it now, not that I wanted to. His presence, his warmth, had become an undeniable part of the evening, as though fate itself had decided we belonged in each other’s orbit for just a little longer.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, I gave in. “I suppose it’s already been decided,” I said with a teasing smile. “You may have the last dance, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His smile widened at my acceptance, and without missing a beat, he offered me his arm. “Then, it’s a promise.”

I accepted his arm, the weight of the evening and all its emotions fading away in that simple gesture. The music swelled again, the air light and filled with promise. The moment I had been dreading—the end of the season—suddenly didn’t seem so dreadful after all.

The last dance of the night arrived with a soft swell of music, the orchestra’s strings and woodwinds weaving a melody that seemed to capture the very spirit of the evening. Benedict’s hand found mine, steady and warm, as he led me onto the floor, the crowd parting just enough to allow us a space among the final few dancers.

The soft glow of the chandelier above bathed us in golden light, the flickering shadows from the flames reflecting in his eyes. Our steps were fluid, effortless, as though we had danced this same dance a hundred times before, though it was only the second time our bodies had moved together like this. Benedict’s hand rested at the small of my back, his touch gentle but certain, guiding me with a confidence that made me feel as though the world outside the ballroom no longer existed.

I could feel the subtle sway of his movements, the rhythm of his heart beating in time with mine. He didn’t speak, not yet, but there was a quiet understanding between us, a connection that seemed to transcend the formality of the dance and go deeper—into something more personal, more fragile, than anything I had ever known.

As we glided across the floor, I found my breath in rhythm with his, each step carrying me further into the moment, away from the expectations of society, away from the responsibilities of my family, away from the constraints I had long believed I must carry. The dance had become a metaphor for everything I had feared and hoped for—freedom and belonging, duty and desire, all wrapped into a single movement, a single step.

For the briefest moment, I forgot about the future, about the weight of family legacy and expectations. I forgot about the mask I had worn all evening, the one I had placed so carefully on my face. In his presence, there was no need for pretense. It was just him and me, two souls caught in the fleeting moment of something pure.

And yet, even as we danced, my heart fluttered with the memory of the words Benedict had spoken not long before, his proposal hanging between us like an unspoken vow. “Marry me,” he had said, his voice steady but full of emotion. And I, without hesitation, had said yes. It wasn’t a decision made out of duty, but out of something deeper, something undeniable that had been growing between us since that first secret meeting at the party. I knew then that I didn’t just want him—I needed him, just as he seemed to need me.

As the final notes of the music echoed through the room, Benedict pulled me closer, his arms strong and secure around me. We finished the dance with a slow, graceful spin, our eyes locking in a silent promise. The crowd clapped, but the applause felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered in that moment was the quiet between us, the shared understanding, the knowledge that the season had come to an end, but perhaps, this was only the beginning of something far more significant.

When the music stopped, Benedict didn’t immediately release me. Instead, he held me for just a moment longer, his face a mix of affection and determination.

"Until next time," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

I nodded, my heart racing, but my smile soft, certain. "Until next time."

As the crowd resumed its chatter and the last notes of the orchestra faded, we walked together off the dance floor, our steps in sync, neither of us yet ready to face what lay ahead—but knowing, with the smallest flicker of hope, that whatever the future held, we would meet it side by side.

And so, the evening closed, the final dance of the season over, but the possibilities of what came next lingering in the air like a soft, sweet promise.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars // @shonteriasunshine // @melsunshine // @bollzinurmouth // @kneelforloki // @reiluvr // @eddiiiieeee // @wishyoudaskme // @caspianobsessed

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! thanks loves <3!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! I’ve no to ed you’ve written a lot of platonic hades siblings with Nico and reader, can I request something with the same reader finding about Hazel?

Absolutely!

…I got carried alway…oops.

‘I have a sister?’ You asked to nobody in specific as though the words were foreign to you.

Nico could only watch as you looked upon Hazel with the same look you gave him upon finding out that you were no longer alone as a child of hades, it made him feel nostalgic for the better times you shared before war loomed over all of you. So when he met Hazel, his mind wandered to you almost immediately and knew that you’d love her as much as you loved him.

Hazel on the other hand was watching you and remembering all the stories that Nico has told her about you, his -well her’s as well- older sibling who had many battle scars scattered across your skin that told a long and painful story, the older sibling who he boldly claimed once delved straight into Tartarus on more then one and came out with a smile upon your face. You, the one person Nico admired- even if he won’t admit it- as Hazel could see the smile upon his face and the gleam in his onyx eyes when he talked about your accomplishments to her; all the while reminiscing the times where you would smooth him to sleep on hard nights and protect him with your whole body.

Hazel knew Nico wanted to be like you and she could see why because it was almost impossible to comprehend that the older sibling Nico talks so highly of was standing before her, looking anything unlike a child of hades, but upon closer examination she could see the resemblance between you and the Italian next to her as one question remained in her mind; how much were you alike to her and vice versa.

‘I have a sister!’ You cried as you tugged Nico into your arms as you gave him a bone breaking hug. ‘Nico you little shit, why didn’t you tell me sooner!’ You added as you felt joy in having another sibling to protect and fight alongside with.

‘We were kinda in the middle of not dying in Tartarus and you were kinda going manic during that time,’ Nico shrugs in your arms, having gotten use to your powerful hugs as he found immense comfort in them then he did the first time he found himself in your embrace, ‘so I didn’t think it was appropriate to talk upon family matters at that point.’

You released your brother, though not before ruffling his hair much to his dismay, before looking over at Hazel with a softer expression. ‘I’ll let you off this time because we were in a life or death situation,’ Nico shoves your arm playfully at your words, ‘but I’m hopeful that you haven’t been telling our sister bullshit stories about me.’

‘And why would I do that?’ Nico asked, hands on his hips.

You mimicked his stance and raised a brow. ‘To look like the better sibling by comparison, why else.’

Hazel couldn’t help but laugh at yours and Nico’s interactions, finding herself believing Nico’s stories more and more upon seeing just how much of a welcoming presence you had despite smelling like how any other kid of hades did; the dead, misery and oddly enough McDonald’s. ‘I can say that he speaks only good things about you.’ She tells you as Nico looks at her with a look that pleaded with her not to tell you about the more sappier stories he told her about you, but seeing the mischievous look in your eyes told Hazel that you would easily draw those stories out of her the moment Nico leaves.

‘Good, he should.’ You replied as you gave your little brother a playful shove while moving closer to Hazel. ‘Now I want to get to know my sister better seeing as our brother has had the unfair advantage over me this time, so why don’t you and me have a child of hades day together?’ You asked softly as though you didn’t want to sound as though you weren’t giving her an option but Hazel had made her decision the moment you locked eyes.

‘Is Nico going to join us?’ She asks playfully.

‘No it’s just going to be the two of us, he’s hogged you enough in my opinion.’ You replied as Nico glared at you halfheartedly.

‘Love you too death breath.’ He spat.

‘Love you more zombie boy.’ You cheeked.

Hazel could tell she was going to love being your sibling.

Some hdc because I feel like it

So Hazel is your sister. Yay! Celebrate!

You both would spend a day in the hades cabin just getting to know one another and talk about shared experiences of being a child of hades.

You even find out about her boyfriend Frank and Nico had warned Hazel in advance that you were extremely overprotective as upon finding out that Nico had a boyfriend, you had demanded to meet and interrogate the poor boy, who thankfully only smiled and answered all your questions without wavering.

So Hazel was more then prepared to have you interrogate her boyfriend to high heavens, she swore frank was going to collapse to his knees upon seeing the intense look you had upon your face, meanwhile Hazel could only smile warmly knowing that you took her safety seriously but also going easy on frank when you toned done your glare and intense interrogation of him and his intentions with her.

Hazel sometimes wondered if you ever were in love and even asked you at one point, but the solemn look upon your face told her that this love story of yours didn’t have a happy ending.

You take her to the lake at chb and tell her about a boy named Luke Castellan, a son of Hermes who stole your heart the moment you entered camp. And Hazel couldn’t help but reach a hand out to comfort you.

‘He had eyes that held mischief in them and a smile that only told you that he was up to something constantly…I loved him more than anything as he was the only person who never made me feel like a burden for being a child of hades. He never left me alone and would sometimes sleep over at my cabin and hold me when my night terrors got the better of me.’ You tell her as your eyes shone with unshed tears.

‘He sounds amazing.’ Hazel replies. She wanted to know more about Luke and what happened to him, but it seemed as though she didn’t need to as you continued your story.

‘He was…until he betrayed camp, betrayed me and threw us into war against Kronos. He gave me this scar.’ You point towards the scar that ran down your cheek. ‘To match his scar he said because for as long as he lived, we were fated to see each other again in the afterlife or so he would say.’ You tell her as you raised a hand to your scarred cheek, remembering the day in the labyrinth like it was yesterday.

Hazel couldn’t imagine the pain that you went through knowing that the person you loved would also be the person that hurt you the most, it angered her to think that you gave your heart to someone but only to receive a scar instead; a grim reminder of him in the worst possible way. She now understood why you wanted to grill frank and will, for you didn’t want them to be betrayed like you were with Luke for Hazel was certain you’d trade your life for her and Nico within a heartbeat.

Something that she hopes never comes to pass as she didn’t want to lose you so soon into knowing you, as she saw you as a comforting presence in her life in such a short about of time, for Hazel couldn’t fathom not having you in the future to whisper words of comfort to her as you ease her back to sleep late in the night. She soon realised that Nico wasn’t joking when he told her that she’d too would grow attached to you like he had, you were just that amazing.

‘Someone who loves you wouldn’t do that.’ Hazel tells you, wanting nothing more than to smack Luke for hurting you, her older sibling and using your emotions against you. In her eyes Luke didn’t deserve you but the damage he had inflicted on you was done and it was obvious to her that it ran deeper than she could ever imagine.

‘Nico said the same exact thing when I told him about Luke, though he only knows Luke as the betrayer…I only saw him as the boy who’d shove his hoodies over my head and kiss my forehead while eating strawberries under the shade of a tree.’ You said with an air of whimsy and nostalgia as you reached for your necklace that he had stolen for you, kissing it and shoving it back into the hoodie, or Luke’s hoodie as Hazel was quick to assume.

‘You still love him.’ Hazel said. ‘Even after everything he’s done?’

You smile weakly as you looked over at her. ‘He died in my arms…I knew he was dying, I could hear it in my ears and his last wish was to die in my arms…so I granted him that as he apologised for the scar he’s given me and I told him that this would be the last time I could call him mine. Then he died and I feared that I died that day too.’ You finished grimly as you were soon pulled into Hazel arms as you gripped her back, both sitting in silence as the sound of water lapping and the sounds of the forest greeted your ears.

You and Nico had your own nicknames for each other.

You decided to call Hazel ‘jewel’ or ‘gemstone’

Meanwhile She calls you ‘death flower’ or ‘ghost lily’

You both have deep conversations late at night when neither of you could sleep, which would end up with her being cuddled up against your chest as you sang to her in hopes of easing her back to sleep peacefully, much like you did with Nico when he first exorcised night terrors.

You would even talk about your lives before finding out that you were demigods.

You would tease her for her relationship with frank but Hazel knew that he had your blessing, knowing that you wanted to best for her and recognising rather quickly that frank was exactly that.

Soon Hazel feels it appropriate to tell you about Sammy Valdez and how Leo reminds her of him in more ways than one. (You keep an eye on him after this)

Hazel deeply believes that you and Reyna would make a cute couple and or friends and would be dying to introduce the two of you to one another one day. Nico is also in agreement that you and Reyna would make a good duo, whether romantic or platonic.

They both want you to be happy and move on from Luke and the pain he’s caused as they didn’t want to see their sibling mourning a man they didn’t felt keen towards, especially Nico who had met him once and felt immensely over protective of you with how close Luke tried to get to you.

[sheeezu]

https://www.tumblr.com/sheeezu/772457194050420736/hi-im-so-sorry-to-bother-you-right-after-you?source=share

Can you write more in detail on this embodying of one's true nature? Like how do you specifically do it? And how to apply this to shifting? Could you write a short guide? From that screenshot, it seems it's saying the key is to not need something to happen?

Thanks for the neat ask, of course I'll write more about it, it's one of the concept I had to delve more into due to one of my DR being mythologically and divinely inspired.

One's true nature:

The way we could figure out on this planet, what our nature is, is through the void state.

Like the void state, which is a blank space, ignorant and unaffected entirely. We are the void state. And just like that, we're ignorant of the consequences of our creation.

Our first creation was our existence in this reality, our linkage to the very reality we try to shift away from.

But we've poured our souls into the mold of a human body, which feels intensely. Emotions is the way of expressing itself, since its limited in a way.

But we weren't always like that, so the concept is to return back to the playful spirit, which expresses itself in the form of creation.

The key is..?

The key, through embodying your true nature, doesn't come from the fact that you're expecting your manifestation or shifts, like the LOA.

But that you're not looking back. You're not looking back into the eyes of reality you're leaving, you're not happy you're not sad, you're not expecting or doubting.

It's self-assurance, without needing approval or anything, you're lost in your own (very true) wonderland, creating it, living in, like in a trance. You unleash your inner child's curiosity and playfulness.

How to do it/apply it to shifting.

Due to our circumstances at the moment, being human, we don't have any divine weapons in our hands, like a trident which destroys whatever comes in contact with it.

But all of our powers, are stored in our mind, accessing them is easy, because we have our thoughts, affirmations.

So, in order to embody, whether it is during the day or right before you attempt to shift, get relaxed and meditate, after setting a directional hint (intention, to shift, to relax, to manifest, etc), give yourself the creative ability to run off, and like an AI image generator in your mind, let your mind create its 4D. If it takes you to a serene location between valleys or generates a scenario from your DR, let it.

Don't suppress your mind and imagination, instead follow it.

Focus on what you're presented, it is your inner child speaking to you, your true nature, it had created something and it is clearly uncaring regarding its consequences, its free.

Now, think/create your DR in that way, see it through your 4D, don't care about the 3D, you're an ignorant divine being of creation. Let your DR materialise, dont overcomplicate, its literally that simple. (you've basically merged in with your true self by embodying it, so it's no different from you)

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

18. Dying Star

Note: O-ohh….what will happen with Karina now?

Masterlist here

The tension in the dorm had become almost unbearable. Y/n had hardly spoken to any of the members since the argument with Karina. The usual banter, the laughter, the inside jokes—it was all gone, replaced by an awkward silence that no one quite knew how to break. Y/n’s footsteps were heavier than usual, and every time Karina walked into the room, he’d either retreat to his room or disappear into his phone, avoiding eye contact.

The comeback was looming closer, and with it, the pressure continued to build. They had rehearsals, interviews, photoshoots, and it seemed like the only person struggling to hold it all together was Y/n. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The group could feel the strain growing in his absence—like a shadow looming over everything they did.

Giselle had always been the level-headed one. She noticed things that others might miss, and over the last few days, she had picked up on the subtle shifts in both Y/n and Karina. They were both hurting, but neither one of them was ready to admit it. Something needed to change, and fast.

One afternoon, while the group was lounging around the dorm between schedules, Giselle decided to step in. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and everyone knew Y/n was on edge. But Giselle had a plan—kind of.

“Hey, Y/n,” she called out, standing in the doorway of his room. He was lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone, pretending not to hear her.

“Y/n,” she said again, a little louder this time, walking inside without waiting for an invitation.

Y/n finally looked up, forcing a tired smile. “What’s up?”

Giselle crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “We need to talk.”

He groaned inwardly, already bracing himself for another uncomfortable conversation. “About what?”

“About you. And Jimin-unnie. And, you know… everything.”

Y/n sat up, rubbing his temples. “Aeri, I really don’t have the energy for this right now.”

“I know,” she said softly, her voice unusually gentle. “But that’s exactly why we need to talk. Look, I get that this comeback is a lot. We all do. But you and Rina-unnie… it’s like walking on eggshells around you two. You’re avoiding each other, and it’s making everything harder.”

Y/n frowned, his hands clenching into fists. “I’m not avoiding her.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? You’ve barely spoken to her since that argument. It’s okay to admit you’re both stressed out, but you need to talk to each other, not just… avoid the issue.”

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I tried talking to her, Aeri. It just… blew up.”

Giselle took a deep breath, trying to remain patient. “Okay, but maybe you need to try again. And this time, with a little less… I don’t know, explosion? Just don’t be like Bakugou”

Y/n couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at that. “Yeah, easier said than done.”

Giselle smiled, feeling like she was finally getting through to him. “Look, I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But if you two don’t fix this, it’s only going to get worse. We’re a team, and right now, our team’s falling apart. And you know who feels it the most? You.”

Just as Giselle was about to delve deeper, Winter popped her head into the room, clearly having eavesdropped on part of the conversation. “Are you guys having a secret therapy session without me?”

Y/n groaned, but Giselle shot Winter a look. “Not now, Minjeong.”

But Winter, being Winter, ignored the look and walked into the room anyway, plopping down on the edge of Y/n’s bed. “Come on, Y/n, don’t be all serious and moody. Where’s the idiot who didn’t stress out over every little thing. Remember when we used to just vibe and chill? Lighten it up.”

Y/n smiled faintly but shook his head. “Yeah, well, that was before this comeback became a mess.”

Winter’s expression softened as she scooted closer to him. “It’s not a mess. You’re just under a lot of pressure. We all are. But you don’t have to go through it alone, you know?”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’m failing you guys, Jeong. I used to be able to balance everything. Now, I’m just… screwing everything up.”

Winter’s voice was gentle, but there was a sadness in her eyes. “You’re not screwing up. We’re just worried about you. It’s not just about the comeback—it’s about how you’ve been acting lately. You’re not yourself, and it’s making us all feel weird. I miss the Y/n who used to tease me and bring snacks into the dorm.”

Y/n chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess I haven’t been much fun lately.”

Winter nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need you to be perfect, Y/n. We just need you to be here. With us. You’re part of the team too, you know?”

Giselle, watching the interaction, saw a chance to ease the tension. “And we need you to talk to Jimin-unnie. She feels just as bad as you do, but she’s not going to say it unless you do first.”

Y/n closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew they were right, but admitting it—admitting he was overwhelmed—felt like a failure. And that’s the last thing he wanted to be.

-

Later that evening, Y/n was sitting in the dorm’s living room, his mind racing with everything that had been said. He hadn’t spoken to Karina yet, but the thought of confronting her made his chest tighten. He just needed time to process everything.

But that time would soon run out.

The next day, rehearsal was intense, and the tension between Y/n and Karina hadn’t improved. Small misunderstandings during the practice led to more frustration. At one point, Karina asked about a timing change in the schedule, and Y/n—already feeling cornered—snapped.

“Karina, can you just stop? I’m trying to handle it!”

Karina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Handle it? You’ve barely been able to handle anything since this started!”

The words cut deeper than either of them expected, and for a moment, the room went silent. The other members exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to do.

But before Karina could say anything else, Y/n’s face darkened. “You think I don’t know that? I’m doing everything I can!”

The tension snapped. Y/n, unable to deal with the pressure anymore, stormed out of the rehearsal studio, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the silent room.

The group was left in shock, the weight of the argument hanging in the air.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far…” Karina whispered, her voice shaky.

None of them knew what to say. For the first time, it felt like their team was truly falling apart.

-

A few doors down, Minji and Jihoon, having overheard the commotion again, exchanged worried glances. Jihoon looked at Minji and muttered, “That doesn’t sound good.”

Minji nodded, her expression tense. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Should we step in?”

Minji sighed. “ I don’t think it’s our place to do so. Let them work it out… but we’re going to have to keep an eye on this. It’s not just a comeback at stake here.”

The situation had gone from bad to worse, and everyone knew it.

-

The air in the dorm was thick with silence after Y/n stormed out of the rehearsal. None of the girls spoke much that evening, and the usual banter was replaced by awkward exchanges and glances. Karina felt the weight of her words more than anyone. She had replayed the argument over and over in her head, regretting the way things escalated, but unsure of how to fix it.

Even worse, Y/n was nowhere to be seen after he stormed out.

The next morning, the group was summoned to the company building earlier than usual. There was an uneasy feeling in the air as they entered the CEO’s office. They exchanged nervous glances, the tension from yesterday’s argument still fresh.

SM Entertainment's CEO, a man they rarely met outside of major events, sat behind his desk with a stern expression. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“I called you here today to discuss something important,” he said, his voice measured but serious.

Karina shifted uncomfortably, sensing that this wasn’t just about the comeback. Winter bit her lip, and Giselle kept glancing at the door, as if hoping Y/n would walk in and explain everything.

But he didn’t.

The CEO’s next words confirmed their fears.

“Y/n has requested an indefinite leave of absence.”

The room fell silent, stunned. Winter’s eyes widened, while Giselle’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Ningning blinked a few times, not sure if she’d heard correctly. And Karina… Karina’s heart sank, her stomach twisting into knots.

“He’s taking time off?” Winter finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "That idiot?"

The CEO nodded. “Effective immediately. He’s asked for some time to rest and reflect. He’ll be gone for the foreseeable future.”

Karina’s chest tightened. She wanted to say something, to ask if this was because of their fight, but the words wouldn’t come out. The guilt gnawed at her. Had she pushed him too far?

The CEO continued, his voice calm but firm. “This comeback is still moving forward, and we will assign another manager to take over Y/n’s responsibilities. But I need all of you to remain focused. I'm sorry to hear and I understand this is a difficult time, but the show must go on.”

Ningning, always the one to break awkward silences, raised her hand hesitantly. “Can we… can we talk to oppa? Maybe convince him to come back?”

The CEO shook his head. “Y/n made it clear that he needs space. It’s best to respect that, girls.”

Giselle sighed, her eyes dropping to the floor. Winter looked devastated, her usual playful demeanor replaced with sadness. And Karina… Karina just sat there, staring at the ground, her heart heavy with regret.

After the CEO dismissed them, the group walked out of the office in silence. There were no words to say. The weight of Y/n’s absence loomed over them, and the reality of how bad things had gotten started to sink in.

Winter was the first to break the silence as they stood in the hallway. “He really left… just like that. That idiot.”

Giselle nodded slowly, rubbing her temples. “I don’t blame him. We’ve all been pushing him too hard.”

Ningning looked at Karina, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay, unnie?”

Karina didn’t answer right away. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check, but the guilt was overwhelming. “I should’ve handled things better,” she muttered. “This is my fault…”

Giselle put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not just you, unnie. We all could’ve done more.”

But Karina wasn’t so sure. All she could think about was the argument, the way Y/n had looked at her before storming out, the frustration in his voice. She had pushed him to the edge, and now he was gone.

As they made their way back to the dorm, the atmosphere was somber. The comeback was supposed to be an exciting time, a new chapter in their careers, but it now felt like something was missing—something they couldn’t replace.

And without Y/n, their manager, their friend, the group didn’t feel quite the same.

[spaceyaceface]

you are a wildflower garden growing in my head

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Summary: When she learns that Ominis Gaunt is well versed in floriography, she insists on him giving her lessons to learn the language of flowers. Thankfully, he ins't too hard to convince. Requested by @applinsandoranges

A/N: I loved researching Floriography a bit (or maybe a lot) for this fic!!! I'm sure it's not perfect, but I tried my best to be as accurate as possible. Thank you thank you THANK YOU to applins for requesting, I loved writing this so much!!!

Normally, the courtyard was pretty quiet—it was what made it an ideal place to study in the early spring, when the snow had just finished melting and trees had started to bud. She and Ominis had made a habit of sitting out there in the late afternoons, when Sebastian was serving his various detentions. 

That day didn’t seem to qualify for normal. 

Everett Clopton was chasing after a weeping Adelaide Oakes, who had burst out into wailing tears mere moments ago. 

“Addie, what did I do wrong?” Everett shouted after her, the flowers he had given her left on the ground where he had thrown them. “I’m sorry! Come back!” 

The ruckus caused quite the stir in the courtyard, students looking up from their studies to watch the pair—she herself couldn’t help but stop her reading, observing them with a furrowed brow. 

“What was all that?” Ominis asked from beside her. 

“Everett Clopton just gave Adelaide Oakes some flowers, then she ran off crying,” she summarized quickly. “Pretty unexpected turn of events. I always thought she returned his feelings.” 

Ominis frowned. “What flowers did he give her?”

She took a closer look at the flowers laying on the ground, tilting her head a bit. “They’re petunias, I think.” 

The loud laugh from beside her caught her off guard—Ominis usually contained his amusement pretty well, especially in public, so his loss of composure made her brow furrow. “What on earth is so funny?” she asked, perplexed. 

Ominis sat himself back up, taking a deep breath. Small chuckles still escaped him, but he seemed to have control of himself now. “Petunias,” he began, “Mean anger and resentment. No wonder Adelaide was upset.” 

Her own lips turned up in the corners. “Seems like poor Everett didn’t have a clue,” she said. “But to be far, neither did I.” 

“I’m not surprised Adelaide caught on,” Ominis said. “Hufflepuffs are usually more inclined to plantlife, aren’t they?”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Hold on, how do you know the meaning of petunias?”

She didn’t miss the slightest blush that covered Ominis’s cheeks. “My sisters,” he answered. “It’s a form of sending messages that normally wouldn’t be allowed to be shared when properly courting. They’d receive bouquets from suitors and would sit and talk about their meanings for hours, speculating it from every angle. I grew a bit fascinated by it, and learned what I could about the subject flower meanings.” He gave a small smile. “I know much more than the meaning of petunias.”

She smiled, thinking of a young Ominis delving into such topics. She rarely heard him talk about things he was excited about, especially from when he was younger. There was a certain glow to his features when he did—one that fit beautifully with his handsome features. It was subtle; something people who’d spent less time observing Ominis would likely have missed. But she had become somewhat of an expert in the slight expressions on her friends face—likely due to the extended periods of time she found herself staring at him. It had only gotten worse as they grew closer—as her feelings for him became stronger. 

“How come you’ve never told me about any of it?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “You never asked.”

“Well, I’m asking now.” 

He chuckled, hands reaching for his textbook once more. “Fine then. I’ll give you a lesson in floriography. Just give me some time to prepare for it. We better finish our Potions homework in the meantime; Sebastian will need someone to copy off of later tonight.”

She sighed, but didn’t argue. She’d hold him to his lessons, she’d make sure of that. 

-

It took a few days of pestering him until he finally told her he’d teach her about flowers later in the afternoon. She agreed to meet him by the Black Lake—the spring had started to warm up, and being near the water seemed like a wonderful idea. 

When she trekked down to their meeting spot, her eyes widened a bit at the scene. No wonder he had wanted to take a bit of time to prepare—he’d gone out and gathered a wide variety of flora, each of them sitting around him. She couldn’t help but think that anyone who didn’t know of their intentions would have taken the scene as a romantic one. 

He heard her approach, smiling up at her and patting the ground beside where he sat. “My student has arrived.”

“You better not assign me homework,” she said, sitting down. She enjoyed the chuckle her comment drew out of him. 

“I’m sure you’re busy enough studying for N.E.W.T.S. already,” he said. 

She groaned. “God, don’t remind me. I came to escape that for a while.” 

“Well, hopefully I won’t take up too much space in your head with this useless information.”

“Hang on,” she protested. “Don’t go calling it useless. Seemed like Everett would have benefited greatly with this knowledge. Besides, who knows when I’ll have a secret message to decode?” 

He faced away from her, busying himself by grabbing a couple of the plants beside him. Was his face a bit flushed–? Surely not. It was perfectly clear when his head tilted toward her once more. 

“As you learned not long ago, not all flowers are fit for a display of love or affection.” He smiled a bit. “In fact, a lot of them have sentiments more akin to the opposite. For example…”

He reached to his side, pulling forward a cluster of small flowers, bright pink with white on the edges of the petals. “These are China Pinks, or Indian Pinks. I’ve been told they’re quite lovely. But looks can be deceiving, as the mean the giver has an aversion for the receiver.” 

She laughed a bit. “That would be a shock to receive, I’m sure.” 

He grinned. “Precisely. If one wanted to be a little less harsh in their message, one could instead give someone everflowering candytuft—”

“Candytuft?” she interrupted, giggling.

He shook his head in mock annoyance. “Yes, candytuft. Don’t be fooled by its sweet name, it means indifference.” He placed a white flower with many layers down in front of her. 

“Are all these flowers a way of telling me how you really feel about me?” 

Ominis laughed at that. “No, I just wanted to give you a sample of some of the things you can say. Those last two are just as untrue of my sentiments for you as the message this next one conveys.” He showed her a small white flower with a yellow center and red dot on each petal. 

“What’s that one mean? I’m going to burn down your house?” 

“It means ‘I die tomorrow.’”

Her jaw dropped, and she couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh. “Do people really tell people things like that through flowers?”

Ominis shrugged, setting the flower aside. “They must, if it’s a well-known enough meaning.” 

“I’ll never look at flowers the same way again.” 

“They’re not all bad,” he promised. He continued with his lesson, bringing forth each flower he had brought. She listened to each one very attentively, thoroughly enjoying listening to him. He was right—it was a fascinating topic. She learned magnolias represented a love for nature. Mountain laurels stood for ambition. The colors mattered greatly, too—a red columbine meant anxious and trembling, while a purple one meant the giver was resolved to win.

By the time the sun came to rest on the horizon, her head was swimming with various names and meanings. They’d gone through all of the samples Ominis had brought her, and he seemed satisfied with the lesson he’d given her. 

“There better not be a test,” she said as he gathered up the flowers around them. He grinned. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not that cruel.”

The two of them stood, ready to be on their way. “I’ve got to visit Poppy about nifflers she says she spotted,” she told him, wishing she could spend the time it took to walk back to the castle with him. 

“Ah, of course. You and your beasts,” he said with a small smile. He shifted on his feet. “Before you go, I’d like you to have this.” 

He handed her a large red flower, tall and curving with strange petals sticking up all down the length of it. She took it from him, brows furrowed. “I don’t remember what this one meant. You haven’t showed it to me yet, have you?” 

“Not yet, no,” he said, voice quiet. 

“What’s it mean?” 

He smiled at her softly. “I’ll tell you soon enough.” 

And with that, he headed off toward the castle. 

-

She really tried not to think too much about the large flower occupying the vase in her dorm room over the next several days. Tried being the key word. Every time she walked into her room and saw it, she couldn’t help the slight flip of her stomach, remembering the slight blush Ominis had sported while handing it to her. 

Surely it was something simple and lighthearted. Surely it was some sort of jab or joke, and not any sort of… confession. He had spent that whole lesson talking about what flowers meant outside of romance, hadn’t he? Why would the gift he gave her at the end be any different?

Even so, she found herself checking out a book on floriography at the library, trying to learn the secret message he’d given her. So far she’d learned nothing of it. 

It didn’t mean she didn’t learn anything, though. 

It had taken them several days to find time for another one of their little lessons, with actual studies taking the unfortunate priority. But they promised to squeeze it in on a Saturday morning just before lunch. She’d woken up early to locate one of the things she’d latched onto while reading her book—a variegated tulip. 

Beautiful eyes, the book had told her. She figured if he got to tantalize her by giving her that flower, the least she could do was try to flatter him a bit into telling her. She hoped it wasn’t too forward; she’d told him his eyes were lovely before, but to do so in a language so dear to him—well, it just felt a bit intimate. 

In any case, she found herself headed to the very same shore of the Black Lake, seeing a scene much like the first time they had met there. Ominis sat there with a group of flowers, but this time, they were all bunched together, forming a mis-match bouquet. 

She grinned as she plopped down beside him, tulip tucked away. “That looks lovely.”

Ominis chuckled. “I hope so. All I know is it smells pretty decent.” 

“Is that how you tell all of them apart?” she asked. “The scent?”

He nodded. “That and the texture of the petals. Though I’ve gotten used to using my nose first—I’ve ruined a good number of flowers by manhandling them.” 

She laughed. “It’s a bouquet this time.” 

“Very observant of you,” he teased. She gave him a gentle shove in response, making him laugh. “Don’t abuse your teacher!”

“Don’t patronize your student,” she said, grinning. 

He shook his head. “As my amazingly brilliant and very astute student pointed out, I’m holding a bouquet—” she shoved him again— “which will be the focus of our lesson today.” 

“Permission to leave class early?”

“No.”

“Fine.” 

He chuckled, his fingers beginning to gently run along the different flowers he held in the bunch. “Last time we went over some of the more specific and less used meanings. Today I’m hoping to touch on some of the more common flowers, ones you’d be more likely to come across.”

“Sounds practical.”

“Precisely. I’ve gathered them in a bouquet for you—often times you’ll receive a bouquet so the sender can express more complex feelings, allowing the combination to give a better overview of their emotions and perception of you. So let’s dive in.” 

His finger pointed out a stem holding a few small white flowers. “These are white bell flowers, an expression of gratitude.” 

She hummed. “I like those ones. They’re pretty.” 

He smiled and nodded, turning the bouquet. “Here are oak-leaved geraniums, meaning true friendship.” 

She tilted her head, scooting a bit closer to him for a better look at the pink petals. “How sweet,” she said, smiling. 

His ears went a little red. “The next one needs a bit of an explanation as to why I included it in your bouquet, but—”

“Wait, my bouquet?” she asked. 

“Yes, your bouquet,” he said, red spreading to his cheeks and across his nose. “Now let me continue.” 

“I… carry on, then.” 

His fingers ran over the flowers he’d been indicating once more. “Water willows are representative of freedom. You’re always running off to some place, despite all the rules you should follow, so… freedom.” 

She nodded beside him. “That makes sense.”

He continued on, explaining the reasoning of each flower there in her bouquet. Each one made her heart beat a little faster—he’d spent all that time, thinking of her, picking out exactly the right words to describe her and what she meant to him. It left her grinning like an idiot as she tried to remember each and every thing he said. None of the things he brought up trailed into the realm of romance, but she didn’t need it to. Not now, at least. It was perfect, just as it was. 

“And there you have it,” he said finally. “Your bouquet.” He held it out to her, tilting his head away from her a bit. 

“I… I don’t know what to say, Ominis,” she said, taking it from him and holding it gently. “This is… you’re too kind.” 

“You don’t need to say anything,” he said quickly. “I thought a… demonstration would be best, to help you learn about it. Sorry if I overstepped—”

“You didn’t overstep anything,” she said. “I’m just glad I at least have something to give you in return. I’m sorry it’s not a full bouquet, but it’ll have to do.”

She pulled out her tulip, which looked a little pitiful next to his varied display. But she pressed it into his hand. He felt up the stem gently, and then froze.

“Is… is this a tulip?” he asked quietly. “What color is it?”

She furrowed her brows at his reaction. “It is. It’s a variegated tulip.” 

He let out a breath he must have been holding, a small smile coming to his face. “Beautiful eyes,” he said softly. “Thank you.” 

She couldn’t help but think his smile had a strange tainted emotion behind it—one she couldn’t quite grasp. “You’re welcome. Sorry it isn’t much.”

He tilted his head in her direction. “It’s perfect.” 

-

She couldn’t help thinking about Ominis’s reaction to her tulip the rest of the day. Something about it bothered her—the way he froze up at first, the strange tension in his voice. 

It wasn’t until she looked back at her book on floriography she thought she understood why. 

She’d looked back at the page on the variegated tulip, trying to see if there was something she missed, when her eyes drifted up to the entry just above it. 

Tulip; Red - Declaration of Love. 

Her stomach churned. That had to be it. Ominis had no way of knowing what color tulip she had handed him. For all he knew, she’d been about to confess her feelings to him. 

But had he been full of dread or excitement?

She racked her brain, trying to recall every last detail of his words, he tones, his movements. But to no avail. She was just as clueless of his feelings for her as before

The coming days didn’t help, either. As much as she tried to observe the way he interacted with her, all she learned was… well, that she loved him. She already knew that, of course. But she kept being reminded of all the little reasons why. 

Like the way he whispered snarky jokes to her in class. The way he smiled so slightly when he was amused. The way he walked her to class, even it made him late to his own. Everything about him, really. 

She loved that he made the time to have one final lesson, right before N.E.W.T.S., too. 

Being so sure of her feelings now, she decided to take a risk. Which was why, before she left for the Black Lake, she tucked a red tulip into the pocket of her robes. 

Maybe she’d use it. It was still up for debate—but she’d have it ready if there was even a chance he might feel the same. 

When she arrived at their meeting spot, Ominis was fiddling with the flowers around him. Much like the first time, they laid sprawled out, ready to be dealt with one by one. She came and sat across from him, smiling. “Well, here I am, at my final lesson,” she said. 

He chuckled. “I hope I’ve been a sufficient teacher.”

“We’ll see if I pass the test.” 

He let the smile linger on his face for a moment before moving to one of the first flowers beside him. “I feel like I’ve done a proper job of informing you the uses of flora outside of romance—however, it doesn’t mean it’s still not a large part of it.” 

The flower he held twirled in his fingers. She felt her cheeks heat up a bit—no, she couldn’t get too excited about this. Just because they were talking about love and affection didn’t mean…

“I feel like it’s an important section to cover,” she said, still eyeing the flower he held—pink with drooping petals. 

He nodded. “Extremely. This one I’m holding is a bit… well, dramatic, I suppose. But it conveys the giver’s message pretty clearly. Justicia—the perfection of female loveliness.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Very clearly. I assume you only give it if you really mean to court someone?” 

“Precisely. Would you mind holding it for me?” 

Before she could reply, he pressed the stem into her hand, all but forcing her to take it. She grasped without much thought, as Ominis was already reaching for the next flower. He held up the cluster of small flowers, smiling. “Here we have Peruvian heliotrope. It signifies unwavering devotion.”

He held it out to her, and she took it without a word. He continued on, not missing a beat. The next thing he held was not a flower at all—but he was quick to explain. “Cedar leaf,” he said. “Perhaps not a flower like the others, but it expresses the proper messages. I… I live for thee.” 

There was a tone in his voice that had changed dramatically from when he was simply giving her explanations. A distinct shift that made it hard for her to breathe. One that made her hand feel like it was burning where his fingers brushed against his as he handed her the leaf. 

“Everlasting,” he named, holding a bright burst of yellow and orange petals, “Never-ceasing remembrance.” 

It was added to her growing bouquet. 

He picked up the final flower she saw, a lovely little pink thing, taking the shape of a ball. “Globe amaranth. It has two meanings. Immortality, for the first. But the one I’d like to emphasis is unfading love.”

She sucked in a breath. The petals shook a bit, resulting from his trembling hand. Before he handed it to her, he reached behind him, pulling out a flower that he had let lay concealed there. 

“You’ll recognize this one,” he said softly. She did. The flower he had given her on that very first lesson—the one he told her she’d learn about in due time. It seemed that the time had come. “Honey flower. Love sweet and secret.” 

He felt the same. He had this entire time. He’d sat with her, day after day of studying and laughing, all the while letting his heart beat for her. It filled with with a joy she had never known—one she was determined to never let go off. 

She looked up at his face, jaw tense, and she realized her silence at his confession must be excruciating. She reached forward, taking the flowers from his hands and adding it to her perfect collection before setting it aside. “You mean it, Ominis?” she asked, hoping she had not taken this all ridiculously out of turn. It was relief when he answered in a quiet voice. 

“Every word.” 

She grinned, taking one of his hands in her own before reaching for the pocket of her robe. The flower was still intact—a small miracle she was glad had occurred. “You’ve been an absolutely amazing teacher,” she said, guiding his hand to take the tulip. He wrapped his fingers around it, brows furrowing. “For one, I now know how important colors are when it comes to deciphering meanings.”  She leaned closer, voice coming out as almost a whisper. “I’ve brought another tulip for you. But this one is red.” 

His face lit up in an instant, lips reaching up to spread into the most beautiful smile. The flower was set aside, for his hands found something much more important to do. He placed them on either side of her face, fingers tracing over her cheeks. She held his wrists, letting him lead her closer and closer, until there was no distance left at all. 

The breeze blew softly over them, carrying the floral scent with it. She’d love that smell for the rest of her life, she was sure—because it would always remind her of the way his lips felt on hers. 

[lxmelle]

Gojo’s beliefs of “when you die, you die alone” & “there is no curse more twisted than love”.

We know these were his personal beliefs. At least the latter was confirmed by his own mouth as a personal theory in jjk0. What he told Megumi during the 1on1 training wasn’t a lecture but a piece of advice for how he hoped Megumi could overcome his limitations. It must’ve worked for, or been personal to, Gojo himself who reflected on how this was inaccurate in ch236.

It got to thinking about how he came to believe these. It’s normal to philosophise following personal experiences and form our worldview. So within the context of the world in jjk, here are my reflections, right or wrong:

As a jujutsu sorcerer they’re expected to embrace death at any moment. They were trained to take lives and therefore they expect the risk that comes with it to some degree. Those whose lives they wish to take will defend themselves, and they can be killed instead. Those with an exceptional burden, whether it be as a teacher or as a talented sorcerer, they’d have to be prepared to lay their lives on the line for others.

We see even adults expressing reluctance over this - like Kusakabe and MeiMei - who have something greater they wish to protect through their survival. Of course it’s not easy to embrace death. Especially when you have a lot to lose. Nanami said he wouldn’t be married for as long as he was a sorcerer. Maybe that’s why they trained them young... but that’s by the by. The greater the strength, the greater the responsibility. This is what the strongest duo shouldered with the mission from Tengen, and this was what they had to get used to when being sent on missions separately.

Meaning, there was always the need to accept the high possibility of going alone. Risking just yourself. Alone.

And it’s not hard to imagine that Gojo and Geto both accepted that death equated to a sense of being alone after they parted ways.

Because they weren’t a duo anymore. The end, the death of it. Even if they were, like in HI, they might still have “died” separately. Helplessly.

So in that sense we can see how the ideal about dying alone could have come about for Gojo, who tended to learn things experientially (e.g. not only as a talented & gifted sorcerer - a genius, but also in the matters of decorum, love, etc.) so in terms of loss and grief, it should not be any different.

When Geto embarked on his path, he accepted that this alone-ness equated to a certain death. He actually sought to be alone (like killing his parents) aside from the girls he protected and found a family who were considered outcasts/minorities within the conservative Japanese society.

He embraced his own self sacrifice - his death - so much so that he proclaimed it would have meaning for Gojo to take his life. Gege wanted him to caution Gojo not to take others’ lives along with his (since they had opposing ideologies too), encouraging Gojo to stay on that path and not follow him. It was like walking alone to his death, living on borrowed time.

And Gojo for certain left behind.

Maybe the pain of having left behind, feeling alone as the strongest, felt like death too. It was not enough to be strong if you were alone. Loss is grief. Being alone was a loss and grief. Grief and loss have roots in separation, in death.

And in being the strongest, being left behind, being alone, being prepared to die, watching someone be prepared to die, and seeing others die - he might’ve felt that his death would equate to being alone too. This was the worst pain he had ever known after all.

So I HC that, just like “love is the most twisted curse” he believed that “when you die, you die alone” based on his own lived experiences.

And for what reason did his greatest hurt/pain emerge? Why was he left behind…? Well, it was out of love.

Love really could make the most twisted of curses. It can bind someone to your soul. We know the parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto.

From HI we can delve deeper. For the sake of humanity, out of compassion and love, Geto became twisted and cursed himself by having crazy ideals that required him to sacrifice himself and humans. Out of love for Gojo, he also cursed them both to separation & loneliness. Out of love, Gojo was twisted himself, cursed as he couldn’t kill his friend, had chosen to abide by the principles and values shown to him, could not move on … and therefore this personal theory was born.

It of course got worse for Gojo (😭) and all hell broke loose when he had to kill his beloved bff but couldn’t let his corpse go.

Sigh.

Love is also salvation though. Gojo made sure Geto didn’t die alone. And Haibara made sure Nanami didn’t. Maybe Nanami made sure Haibara didn’t all the way back then too.

When Gojo died, Geto picked him up.

Love also gave meaning and purpose. It drives humanity. But it was also a curse and Gojo theorised right.

Maybe the two beliefs are linked, in that if you didn’t know love (humanity?) you might die alone, with regret. If you hung onto love and lived purposefully with humanity in mind, you might die a good death.

Who knows what themes Gege is cooking...

Thoughts? Feel free to comment or reblog with them!

[brabblesblog]

In recent weeks, I have been receiving hate anons on my ao3 fic. I have tweeted about it here and there, but have mostly ignored it. Unfortunately, today I received another, and due to the content, I feel like I have to respond. It’s been said before but it bears repeating: public accusations like these are damaging to creators, even when they are phrased passive aggressively rather than direct. 

I shall endeavor to answer these in full in this message and then I don’t plan to address this issue again. I would have preferred this to be resolved more maturely, through conversation, but as these remarks have been placed in the public sphere, and have been happening for weeks now, I am opting to reply openly. 

The concept of an A!A that could be softer was inspired by a number of A!A fanfics, particularly 'The Rogue You Were', and I have always been open about this. In fact, were you to look at chapter 1 of Whither, an acknowledgment exists. Whither’s foundation was built on this concept, and grew into 2 – going on 3 now – full longfics from there. I have never been shy about where my original inspiration came from. 

These tropes that I am now accused of copying (masquerades, Raphael-esque characters, Astarion being murderous, comic relief, and bats) are as we all know common tropes amongst the fandom and amongst vampire literature, and were not new concepts when they were used by the person claiming credit for them.

My favorite thing about fandom spaces is that they are a place to share ideas and collaborate. The person who made this accusation was someone I considered a friend: we had openly expressed to each other various instances where she and I were inspired by each other’s work. I have credited her influences; she has not credited mine. Dredging up screenshots to support this statement would be exhausting, and I hope it doesn’t become necessary. I’d much rather be working on my fic than dealing with this, and I hope this is the end of it so we can all get back to doing what we enjoy with our time.

I have as of late retreated from reading other fanfic within the fandom; mental health issues and intense impostor syndrome have rendered it impossible for me to engage in others’ writing, no matter how much I’d like to. Art, being something in the fandom that is removed from writing, is something I really enjoy seeing and delve headfirst into, but I am not at all up to date on the latest fic trends. These ideas (the masquerade, batstarion, and a more light-hearted tone) are things my editor and I have long wanted to add to the fic, but they did not fit into the plot right away. Presenting a cohesive, well-thought-out story has always been the most important thing to me, rather than chasing the latest trend. 

We are all playing the same game, writing from the same base material, often for the same characters with slightly different takes on those characters. There is no way to write for a fandom, particularly one like this, without a fair bit of overlap. I've worked hard this year to find my peace with that, and to not see others using similar plot points as copying. We are all appreciating the same masterpiece of a game, after all.

And lastly, I’d like to add that I don’t in any way condone harassing anyone, anonymously or otherwise, so please do not do so on my behalf.

Comment can be seen in this chapter, will post a screenshot if it's deleted:

[ene-ask]

Hii! The characterization in this au so far is *chefs kiss* and I genuinely love how you've portrayed them so far!! The slight unease from Prima and the hints of the affect from being the only bot for so long!! D-16 and his relationship and hints of insecurity and hypocrisy with Orion! Elita being stern but obviously caring about her friends! Orion and the slight obliviousness but he's still obviously a smart mech!! Jazz and his background/relationship with Orion and slight teasing towards D!! You make them all so real with mistakes and attitudes and I love it <3<3

My apologies for the spiel but I just really wanted to express how well you're doing and I can't wait to see the others! I also wanted to ask about how other apprentices see our boy Orion? (Outside his general circle). I know you said the other Primes don't mind him much but would the other apprentices resent him for being Prima's special one? Would he be bullied or talked about? Maybe a crush of a few? I'm sorry if you've answered this already but thank you for sharing your art and work ^^

Ahhhh I’ve been feeling quite down and this really brighten my mood, thank you!

I genuinely always try to give the characters some dimensions, doesn’t matter how brief the appearance can be. If I can’t express it in action then it has to be in the dialogue, it’s something that’s quite important to me. I’m really glad that you guys are already connecting with the characters before we delve in the meat of the story

Orion hmmmmmmm….. I think I’ll keep my original statement that Orion is an enigma to them. First apprentice of Prima they’ve ever seen and no idea how he got there, zero clue what his test or qualities were that made Prima choose him

It’s logical to assume they’re curious about him, perhaps a few would approach him to see what info they can get. They wouldn’t bully him because it seems evident that Prima is oddly fond of him. Crush however… I don’t think so, he’s practically a nameless cogless who has no manner, a less than average nobody to these apprentices’ standards

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force • ch 5

Chapter 5 - DARK ABDUCTION

Jake x female reader

Words: 12K

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

*So sorry it took me a damned month to write this LOL I love you all

Warnings: Dystopian Horror, Cursing, Suspense, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Violence (& mention of firearms), Mentions of Smoking, Kidnapping, Blood, Death & Dying, Lying, Attacks, Deceit, Panic, Mental Anguish. Smut: Kissing, Heavy Pining, Heavy Touching, Mentions of Sex

JAKE

“Wait, you two kissed?” Sam places his hand harshly on my shoulder as his tired eyes delve deeply into mine. I see the tiniest hint of a smirk poking at his mouth, and I immediately regret my decision to let the admission of what happened last night slip. I’m struck silent for a second as I bite my own tongue for telling my brother what happened on the wall by the koi pond, but he perseveres. “Answer me, asshole! Tell me what happened!” His hand shakes at my shoulder as I glance around to be sure we’re away from the rest of the group, but I feel Danny’s presence suddenly hovering at my back.

“Wait, what happened?” he says with a monotone grunt, sitting down beside Sam and I with a plate full of canned something. “Who kissed somebody?”

Jesus Christ.

We’d all awoken from the restlessness of sorry excuses for sleep nearly an hour ago, buried up under old, musty quilts and blankets from the home Odin had us hiding out in. I fell asleep with Y/N’s hand in mine as we laid head to head on the dusty cushions, trying our best to calm our minds enough to sleep. We knew we needed it, hell, even if we didn’t fall into unconsciousness, just resting our bodies enough to relax was helpful enough. My mind had raced all night long with half-asleep dreams of Josh… of my parents and my family, all my dark daily thoughts even darker then under the cover of nighttime and complete silence. 

But her warm hand in mine gave me some type of solace, though she is still yet unfamiliar and more or less a stranger to me, that kiss on the wall felt like more than just two humans begging for physical touch after so many months without it. Deep down I knew that my body was acting more powerfully than my mind, taking whatever it could get just to feel something again, but after sitting with the memory of the feeling of her lips on mine all night long, I started to think it felt like something different.

Luckily Y/N had taken off to the woods to do her business, giving me a second of reprieve to sort my thoughts out while Odin and the brothers made some type of breakfast over the fire in the backyard. Sparrow was still deep in sleep, resting peacefully in the bedroom across the hall from us. 

“Jake kissed Y/N!” Sam belts to Danny in a loud whisper, earning him a swift slap of the back of my hand across his stomach. “Ow, fuck! What, you didn’t want him to know or something?”

“No, I don’t care that he knows, it’s just… not a big deal–”

“Not a big deal? Jake, this is like the first episode of a soap opera, man!” Danny exclaims with a toothy smile. “Need some romantic drama in my life, tell us what happened,” Danny orders as the two of them sit beside me with expressions of extreme interest. For a split second, it feels like we’re 16 again, telling each other stories about girls and hookups and how we managed to sneak out after midnight without getting caught.

“No drama to it, Daniel,” I begin to reluctantly explain, running my hand over my mustache. “Just… kinda happened, I dunno.” I stare back at the both of them, all three of us haggard, dirty, unshaven and feral… looking outwardly worse for wear than we ever have in our lives. I make a mental note to re-think what Y/N even sees in me, right now.  

Their eyes are trained on me, their jaws hanging slack as they wait with bated breath for the dirty details. It feels private, but also…eh, they’re going to learn about it eventually, I guess. I’ll keep a little bit to myself, but feeding into them will make for some unexpected entertainment. 

“Just happened…” Sam repeats. “I mean was it, good?” he asks, swallowing down his excitement. You’d never guess that we’re thirty-something year old men having this discussion right now. 

I feel my chest bloom with the memory of it, remembering everything about how she felt pressed against me, how she tasted, how she sounded when I let my hands wander…

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was… really good,” I can feel my cheeks blushing. “We just…” I throw my hands into the air and try to down play it all, but they know me too well. The bite of my lips between my teeth is doing all it can to keep me from relinquishing every detail to them, simply so I can relive it, myself.

“Fuckin’ come on, Jake. I didn’t realize you guys were that close…” Danny tries to urge me.

“We’re not, I mean, we were locked up in the same pod, she was a damned fan, for fuck’s sake,” I breathe, checking our surroundings again as I whisper. “She saved me, back at the sink hole…” I recount to them. “Got me out of there. They’d just hit me over the head when I was trying to save her Paps, I was passing out. I wouldn’t have made it out if she didn’t–”

I watch them adjust themselves as they listen, huffing through deep breaths of imagining what my negative memory might be going through. 

“I mean of course I’m… ya know. It’s been some time since I’ve—,” I try and explain without saying, earning understanding nods from them. “But things got a little…handsy, I guess.”

“Oooo!” Sam squeals, rubbing his hands together.  “You lucky motherfucker! What else happened? Did you do it?”

“God, no, Sam, we didn’t do it, you fuckin’ idiot,” I bite back as Danny laughs loudly. 

“What?” he howls. “I’m trying to live vicariously here!”

“Nah man, she’s like… really nice. It was really uhm, not just physical, I guess. We talked and stuff. She feels like…” I raise my hands and squeeze the air as I realize I’m having a hard time explaining to them exactly what I feel. Of course my body is feigning for more human touch, any type of connection I can get my hands on. I’m ashamed of the thoughts that plagued me on the couch last night, but I remind myself that it’s normal. And, after hearing what she had to say about a little touchin’ and squeezin’...

“She feels good. I don’t know how else to explain it. Just, really good. All the way around.”

“So there’s mutual attraction?” Sam asks, nearly begging for more detail.

I fight back another smirk. “Oh yeah. M’sure of that.”

“I saw her looking at you last night,” Danny adds quietly as he pulls food into his mouth. “She got those googly eyes.”

“Of course she did, Daniel, do you not remember being on stage? It hasn’t been that fucking long ago…” Sam bickers.

“No,” Danny laughs, “not that kind of eyes. She was looking at you. Like, really looking. With concern and empathy…while we were listening to Sparrow talk.”

All I can do is nod, remembering that I’ve caught her looking at me like that, too. A few times now. And each time it sends a surge of some type of emotion that I don’t have time to think about right now straight through my body like an electric shock. It’s funny, I’ve had my fair share of what you’d call crushes in my lifetime, some evolving into serious, years-long relationships and some fizzling out before I even had a chance to think twice about them. 

But never have I felt like I didn’t want to eat the food in front of me when I’m nearly starving, simply for the fact that the emanating peace I’ve felt in my chest and stomach for the past few days takes up enough space that I don’t need sustenance. Because she fills me. She’s making my heart race for a reason that I don’t yet understand, and I’m teetering on the edge of feeling guilty about it, as my heart should be racing with worry and concern for my family, instead. 

“Well,” Sam breaks the silence, “I hope that things stay moving forward for you, brother. Nothing like a little romance during the fucking apocalypse.”

Just then I hear her giggle from the back side of the house, causing my head to dart that way as I long to hear it again. I toss the pebbles that I had mindlessly picked up back into the murky koi pond and stand with Sam and Daniel, and we begin to make our way back to the fire to see what the day will hold. 

I catch her eyes as soon as I round the corner of the house, bright and rested as I assume she got better sleep than I did. Her face immediately turns the prettiest shade of pink before she shyly breaks her gaze, tossing a few pieces of hair behind her ear. That familiar knot pulls at my stomach, making me forget how to breathe for a second as I watch the too-bright sun bounce off her features. The day is already beginning to feel strange as the wind begins to shift from the warmth of the night into the freezing cold of the day. 

“Where is Odin?” Danny asks the brothers as they work to prepare a makeshift meal. 

“Went to sit with Sparrow until she wakes up,” Robbie answers as he stirs whatever is in the pot that hangs above the fire. “Want some?” He holds the wooden spoon out to me as I realize it’s some kind of oatmeal, and I immediately feel my stomach churn with hunger. Maybe I do need real sustenance, after all. I nod, grabbing two bowls from the stack and letting Robbie fill them for Y/N and I. 

I pass the bowl off to her as we both take our seats on a rock by the fire. “Awfully kind of you to think of me, Jacob,” she says sweetly, taking the hot bowl from my hand. 

You’re the only thing that’s been on my mind since last night, if we’re being honest…

“Sharing is caring,” I blurt, making her giggle again. 

“Do we have a plan? Are we making moves soon?” Danny asks, turning the bleak cheeriness of the morning straight into business. We always leave it to him to keep things on track. And honestly, if it weren’t for him naturally doing that at every single turn, it’s hard to tell where we would be today.

“As soon as Sparrow wakes up, and we see that she’s ready to share again, we will define a more detailed plan,” Josiah explains. “For now, Odin wants you all fed and for us to gather necessary supplies from the house. I found some backpacks and camping gear in the upstairs closet, we can fill them with whatever we need.” 

I tilt the bowl up and let the soupy oatmeal fall into my mouth, and as it burns my lips and tongue I feel nothing but gratitude for it. My mouth waters and my stomach churns again as it thanks me, my mind suddenly feeling a bit of clarity as the food hits my stomach. 

“We also need to hydrate. All of us,” Robbie adds. “I think these people were preppers before we even knew the world was ending… I found a ton of canteens and potable water in the basement this morning. Firestarters, water filters, hot hands, oil lamps… take whatever you want but make sure it doesn’t weigh you down. There’s also still a ton of clothing in the closets. Grab whatever you can.”

“We also need to remember that we’re being hunted,” Josiah says grimly from behind him. His eyes seem dark in the sunlight, a stark contrast to his brother’s cheery disposition. “Hunted by the ones who Robbie and I ‘work’ for.”

“Worked,” Robbie corrects him, glaring behind him to meet eyes with his brother. My gut suddenly falls as a worrisome thought flows through my head, one that hopes to the heavens above that these men aren’t actually luring us somewhere. I know Y/N, Sam, and Danny have the same thought, but it’s quickly extinguished as Josiah explains his demeanor. 

“Right, worked. Sorry. I’m just…” Josiah works his hands over his face and licks his lips, letting out a large breath of air as he shakes his nerves away. It hadn’t dawned on me that these two men have put everything out on the line for this, for us. To help save us, keep us protected. They are just humans like we are, just a couple of guys who agreed to fight the good fight. Of course they’re feeling just as overwhelmed. 

“We haven’t forgotten that, Josiah. And I don’t think you know how much we appreciate you both for coming out here and helping defend our asses,” Sam says through full mouths of his oatmeal. The other three of us agree and nod.

“We’re not gonna let these motherfuckers win,” Robbie growls. “They mistreated us for far too long. Lied to us, and we played their games, but we caught them up. Now we know how they operate. We’ll be damned if we let them take anything more from us.”

“Your family, are we searching for them, too?” Y/N asks from beside me. 

Robbie and Josiah share a sullen glance before their eyes land back on her. “No, we lost them all to the rash. Dad was able to stay with us for a while, but. It got him in the end,” Robbie says, tossing a few pieces of broken sticks into the flames. 

“Neither one of us have even shown any symptoms. Then we got picked up by these scary fuckers, they agreed to give us shelter and a lavish life in safety from what has happened to the world. Not sure why we agreed, we felt desperate at the time, I guess,” Josiah adds. “They said they would make it worth our while to come and work for them, and before we knew it we were in too deep. But we did learn nearly everything there was to know about how their world intersects with ours, and then we learned about you guys being found. Made all the musical ties ourselves, realized all the lyrics, knew that you’d be in grave danger, and we were right.”

“I still can’t believe you two were fans, too,” Danny breathes. “Feels strange.”

“Yeah man, big time. Used to play you guys all the time while we were overseas, bugged the shit out of everyone until they all started singing along. Took some time, but we converted them,” Josiah went on. 

“Wait, overseas?” I implore. 

Robbie clears his throat. “Yeah, we were both in the military. I was Air Force, Joe was Marines. We were both stationed separately when Starcatcher came out, but I remember we got on some shitty Zoom call and talked about it for like an hour. We were hyped.”

“Oh yeah!” Josiah yelps. “That was killer, I remember that. Fuck I played that shit over and over, got the whole squad turned on to you guys. Playin’ fuckin Highway Tune on jukeboxes in random bars in Germany… ah, what wild times.”

I feel a genuine smile warm through me as I realize that our music really did tie bonds between people, and they found comfort in it even while they were living in what most likely was their own versions of hell. Even now, months after we realized that our dreams had come to a quick and forced ending, it feels good to hear the stories of days past, when it truly did mean something to someone. At least we all will always have that. “So that’s why they hired you guys… you had experience in this shit…”

They both nod. “Yeah, somewhat. We ended up coming back home around the same time, I got an MP job, and Joe stayed with Special Forces for a while. Got out and got some civilian jobs or whatever, then the world ended,” Robbie says with a twist of his neck. 

I gulp down the strange sadness that has washed over me, and I feel Y/N’s side press a little harder onto mine. 

“Bet that was tough…” I mutter. 

“Yeah, ya know. We didn’t hate our lives, but it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. The thrill of the job is what we got addicted to, but it felt like a prison most days,” Josiah goes on. “Now we deserted our posts as work hounds for those motherfuckers, guess we’re a couple of renegades, now.”

Danny’s eyes shoot open as he glances to them, then to me, realizing yet another connection that hadn’t even dawned on any of us, yet. Son of a bitch, Josh…how in the fuck did you do this? 

I shake my head in disbelief, feeling Y/N exhale hard as she makes the connection, too. It’s quiet for a minute or so as a heaviness falls over us.  

“Till Valhalla?” I finally ask, unsure of how else to propose it. 

Josiah purses his lips, offering me a stern look. “Or is it Alas, Babylon?”

I huff through my nose, breathing a quiet “fuck” as I place my bowl down onto the rocky ground, running my hands over my face. They’ve realized it, too. As the minutes tick, things become more and more unreal. Or more real, depending on how you look at it. I’m awestruck at how our words are still coming to life at every turn, realizing now that these two brothers are our Barbarians. 

“Well, thank you, guys… for all of it. Really,” Sam says with a little conviction as we all add in our words of agreement.

“Ah, no need for that. But it’s appreciated,” Josiah says as he stands up and elbows his brother. “We’re just out here still doing what we do best, huh?”

Just as the conversation starts to lighten a little, we hear the back sliding glass door open as Odin gently bounds through, giving us looks of intrigue as his one orange eye glistens in the sun. Behind him in hand, is Sparrow. 

“Good morning, everyone. I trust you all got some rest,” his voice is low and graveled as he uses caution to lead a tired Sparrow outside into the cool wind. 

“Got enough, I suppose,” I say, standing to greet them. “How are you, Sparrow?”

Her aura seems to shift as she moves, the air around her almost glittering in a dusty haze. “Well, Jacob, thank you.” It’s like the breeze warms as she speaks, blowing across us with a new wave of positivity and calmness. She emotes some kind of invisible tranquility, almost immediately filling me with a new gumption to keep going, keep fighting. I can hardly fathom the emotion, but I feel a warm buzz of stamina begin pulsing through my veins. She makes me feel like I’m…alive. 

Odin leads her over to take a seat on a bench as she hobbles across the gravel with her hand clutched protectively over her sword. 

“Is she…limping?” I hear Y/N whisper quietly in my ear, again furthering that the visions of her in Josh’s dreams were spot on. 

I nod slowly as she begins to relax onto the seat, stretching her back and raising her arms high above her head. “My friends, my sincerest apologies for bestowing that news upon you with such haste last night, but I thought it prevalent to our situation, and urgency became paramount. And then, my slumber afterward is always overpowering, and again I am sorry. I simply can never fight through it…” 

I feel Y/N rise from her seat beside me as she wraps a blanket around herself, making her way over to sit beside Sparrow. “It’s alright, you don’t need to be sorry. I think we are all grateful that you’re here, and willing to help us, right guys?”

“Right, absolutely,” we all viciously agree. At this point, I’m chomping at the bit for her to continue, to feed us more information that I know she is holding inside her. But I’ve learned that patience is key. 

We all gather in around her like children being read a Christmas story, anxiously waiting to hear what new news she has to offer. I’m nervous, and I’m a little scared to know, but I also can’t bring myself to think about anything else at the moment. The newfound urge to keep going is amplified the closer I get to Sparrow, but I also could absolutely collapse with worry for my brother. 

“Alright, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news…”

Y/N

I feel the overwhelming urge to reach out and grab Sparrow’s hand, but I resist, not knowing whether or not that will comfort her at all. I’m not sure where my want to comfort her has come from, but I can’t seem to step away from it. 

The guys and I sit and wait for her news, and I’m positive none of us have taken a breath since the last word left her lips. My nerves are swirling but I suppress them, knowing that Jake, Sam, and Danny are a thousand times more anxious than I am. Paps would want me to stay strong.

“The good news is that your brother is alive. And he is safe, in some sense of the word,” she sings, her accent flowing through a hundred millenia, but all of us are somehow able to understand it. “My friends, as I’m sure you all have probably assumed by now, Joshua has been found and captured by those who rule the Tower. His mind is still his own, but you must understand, once one crosses into the other world and begins inserting oneself with the beliefs of those who inhabit there, it takes a great deal of power to begin to reverse it. The words that flowed from me last night were indeed words spoken by your brother, himself, to the people there whom he will one day rule over.”

“Wait, rule over? What does that mean?” I interrupt, my body tensing. 

“Jacob, your brother is a Seer. Even in his adolescent dreams and nightmares, he was witnessing and experiencing a plethora of occurrences that were happening in real time, in the past and in the future, in our world. You know this, now. You wrote about it, about it all. Once our people learned that Joshua possessed this gift through learning of your music, they made it their mission to try and take him for their own. To rule over them as the true one that they could believe in, the one who stands, and watches over,” Sparrow says. My chest caves and my breath hitches as it all begins to come to life again. All of our lyrics, all of our stories…

She goes on, “Of course they wanted him, they just had no idea that a mere human would be the one to possess the power to see time. Time and events being prophesied by a human man in an enemy world is… unfathomable, for them. The end of your world just happened to be the perfect time for them to act upon their plans, as our worlds cannot live while the other is struggling to stay alive. Two sides of the same coin, spinning rapidly on its axis until it begins to slow and falter. But this time, oh, this time, things are different.”

“So they wanted Josh… to be their Seer, to be the one who can warn them of what’s to come, what will work in their favor, and what will not…” Sam drones, choking back tears. 

“Correct, Samuel. Odin, have you told them of what they are doing to their elderly? With their memories?” Sparrow asks. 

Odin shakes his head. “Yes, I have.”

“Your immune elders are being used for their experiments. They are trying to wipe their memories, wipe anything and everything they have ever known to soon bring them over into their own world, and convert them to follow the Seer. A whole new population that will know nothing but following him.”

“Blind faith…” Danny murmurs from beside me, his elbow pressing into my back. “It’s their fate.”

“That’s right Daniel,” Sparrow agrees, emanating another glow of positivity around us. “Blind in the sense that they will have no recollection of how they got there, or why they feel compelled to follow this omniscient. It’s the perfect storm.”

“You said that the hooded guards are all omniscient, why can’t they use one of them? Why does it have to be Josh?” I press, remembering what Odin had said. 

“I said they are all nearly omniscient. Your brother, in their eyes, is completely so,” Odin reiterates. 

I huff out an air of disappointment for news that I partially already knew, but hearing it all said out loud has crushed me. Why? Why?

“Josh didn’t know what we were writing about was real, though! They can’t take him and claim his mind like that, they can’t take away his free will!” I yell, feeling my heartrate taking off. 

“They can, Jacob, and they have already begun the process. You heard his words last night, and I know you know they were not his own. They’ve begun to manipulate his thoughts into believing that all he claims is truth, which partially, it is. They are deeming him as a new leader, a sovereign entity of whom will lead the people to their destiny.”

“Destiny? What destiny?” Danny asks.

“If their trials are successful, and they are able to completely wipe the memories of every immune human left on earth, they will take them all as their own and the Earth will have no choice but to relinquish all its power unto them,” Sparrow barks, and I can tell that the words sting a bit as they leave her mouth. 

“But I thought our worlds can’t exist without one another,” Y/N blurts, her hand now gripping hard onto mine. 

“They can’t, my love, without inhabitants who are strong and thriving.” Sparrow stands and approaches us, her warmth bellowing toward us as she raises her hand to brush across all of our faces. “That’s why they are hunting you. You are worth everything to them. If they can erase the memories of your elders, then they will be sure they can erase the memories of the stronger, younger immunes. Wipe your Mother Earth of her inhabitants, and watch as she completely crumbles. Once they convert you all, then their world will have more than enough power to exist on it’s own, without needing the support of Earth to survive.”

She comes in closer, her aura dripping with what feels like forced happiness. “You see, they want to fully extinguish the human race from the face of the Earth. They want you as their own. Their plan is to take you all, and Joshua is their sole key to the abductions.”

Abductions. 

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. 

I can’t blink, I can’t swallow… I can’t even feel the rocks that I know are poking through the thinning soles of my boots. 

Jake’s hand slips from my own as I feel him slowly turn to me, and to Sam and Danny, all of their faces void of any real emotion at all, other than complete terror. 

“This isn’t fair…” I whisper, and I’m not sure any sound came from me, at all. It feels like my chest is made of stone, the small breaths I’m pulling in unable to expand my lungs. Josh…

“What do we do?” Jake asks us, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his pupils shrink to pinpoints. His face has dropped to a stark white, and I can feel the terrified energy radiating from him. His eyes dart from his brothers to me, looking to all of us for answers that we simply don’t have. “What do we do?” Tears begin welling in his eyes and the rims of them turn a bright red. I can see his hands visibly shaking.

“We search. Today. We leave, now,” Odin harks, standing from Sparrow’s side as he throws his bow and arrow over his shoulder. “Into the house, pack your bags, take only all that is necessary and nothing more. Pack water, warm clothing. Josiah, Robbie, the same for you. Make sure you lock all of the doors and windows, we will return to this place eventually.”

“Where are we going? What’s the plan?” Danny asks as everyone begins to shuffle. 

“First we find your families. Get them to safety. Then we find your brother and cross him back over. That will be the hard part,” he says, punching through all of us to go and begin packing his horse. Danny, Sam, and the others jump into action and begin rushing into the house to pack their things.

I notice that Jake is frozen where he stands, the news that Sparrow has just shared still coursing through him. I fear he is in shock, feeling the effects of learning the truth about his twin fully and completely. Truly, I’m not sure what to even say to him right now, but then I look to Sparrow and she gives me a tight grin, and I immediately feel another wave of comfort and courage wash over us. 

“Jake, I know you’re scared right now, and I know this is a lot to process, but. We’re going to find him, he’s going to be okay,” I reason, taking his cheeks into my hands to try to get him to look at me. 

“How do you know that, Y/N? What if we can’t get to him, and he’s already too far gone? What if he– what if he never comes back?” I never thought I would see him cry, I never thought I would have to be the one comforting him when he did… But here I find myself…

“You wanna know how I know that, Jake? Blind faith.”

“What–what do you mean? That’s…”

My hands release his cheeks and fall to catch his still trembling hands, cold and clammy in the blowing air. “How do we ever know anything is going to work for certain, Jake? We don’t, we just have to persevere. Josh wouldn’t stop looking for you, and he’d never give up on you. None of you would give up on each other. Right? All these years, all you’ve done is trusted each other, because it’s all that you had. You seized every opportunity, together. And look where it got you. You can’t stop now. You can’t think thoughts like that now, Jake. We don’t have time for them. Every single one of you is stronger than you know, and I’ll be damned if I sit here and watch you crumble because of a little fear. You’ve overcome so much, Jake, in your lives and in your careers, because of your blind faith.”

“Kill fear,” he whispers. 

I watch as his pupils grow a bit, and his muscles relax. I wipe the tears that are beginning to freeze onto his face, catching in his lengthening beard and mustache. “Yeah, fuck fear,” I smile.

He nods, turning his head to press a sweet kiss onto my palm. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. We’re gonna find him, he’s gonna be alright, the son of a bitch.” I smile as he picks himself up, gripping my hands that are still cupping his cheeks and placing more kisses onto my palms and fingers. “Thank you…”

I push myself onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he finally takes his first full breath in a few minutes. “Don’t thank me, Jake. You don’t know how many times you and your brothers have comforted me when I thought there was nothing else left for me in this world. You and your music were always there.” 

I hear him laugh, his chest shaking a little against mine as I realized the words I’d just said. “I didn’t mean to say that, it just came out,” I laugh along with him as he pulls away a little, holding my elbows in his hands. 

“Hell, maybe he dreamed about you and me too, then,” he mutters, sending my heart straight into glittering explosions. What did I do to deserve spending this time with him? The person that pulled me from the depths so many times… and now we’ve found ourselves here…

“Maybe he did…” I reply shyly, feeling his thumbs grazing across my arms. 

“Hey, love birds! Come on, we’ve got bags to pack!” We hear Sam yelling from the upstairs balcony of the house, and if it weren’t for the immediate action we jumped into, I would have had time to process the fact that Sam just used the word love.

JAKE

Only all that is necessary…

You always think about what you would grab and take with you if your house was burning down, but when it actually came down to it, you always knew you’d be able to gather resources again. Meals from a neighbor, supplies from the store, fuel from a gas station… 

But when it comes down, truly, to only what is necessary… I think I’ve drawn a blank. 

The empty backpack sits open in my hands as I kneel in the closet of the stranger’s house, my eyes scanning over the clothing that once kept this person warm. Sweaters that his wife had gifted him, socks with holes he had worn in, boots still covered in mud and debris from the hike he didn’t know was going to be his last... 

I swallow hard as my eyes scan even further into the bottom of the closet, shelves full of old memorabilia, high-school basketball trophies, photo albums, old vinyl records… these were part of someone’s life. And I am taking it, because I need to survive. 

“I can’t do this…” I mutter, shaking my head of the sudden overwhelming feeling of impeding into someone’s personal space, though their earthly body is long gone from this home. 

“You have to,” I hear from the doorway, looking up to see Robbie looking back at me. “Promise you, this guy wouldn’t care.”

I huff through my nose. “How would you know, did you know him?”

“No, but I feel like if he knew that it’s the actual end of the earth, the seasons are blending, your family was kidnapped by inhabitants of another world, and you’re running around with mythical creatures while you’re being hunted and used for your mind, I’m pretty positive he wouldn’t care if you stole a pair of socks or two,” Robbie says sarcastically as he gnaws on a long piece of red candy. “Twizzler?”

I laugh again, opening the drawer that houses the underwear and socks. “Yeah, actually, thanks. They aren’t stale?”

“Fuck yeah, they are. But it don’t bother me. Just keeps my hands and mouth busy, ya know?”

I stuff two pairs of woolen socks into a zippered part of the bag before removing my boots and slipping a fresh pair on. “You used to smoke, didn’t you?” I ask. 

“How’d you know?”

“Just a guess,” I reply, reaching far back into the closet to grab a pair of the man’s old hiking boots, happy with finding we were almost the exact same size. “I would have gotten you a pack or five if I’d have known… Right before you found us, we were in an old convenience store chock full of them. That’s where Y/N and I found Sam and Danny.”

Robbie grunts a laugh as he pulls another rogue Twizzler from his pocket, handing it off to me. “Sounds like we might have to make a pitstop.” 

It does sound intriguing… A cigarette would be fucking glorious, right about now. “Might could make that happen…”

“So Y/N… you didn’t know her before?” he asks, piquing my interest.

I shake my head. “No, just in the pods. She used to listen to us a lot, like you and Josiah did, so I guess she knew me, kinda… Why?”

I see him shrug from the corner of my eye. “Just wonderin’. Ya’ll seem pretty close.”

I shrug back, pulling a hoodie off a metal hanger. “Guess you could say that.” I pop the Twizzler into my mouth and bite off the end, zipping the overfull bag closed and tossing it over my shoulder. “Kinda feel like she’s mine to protect.”

He tosses me the last candy in his pocket as I stand and face him, watching his jaw work as he chews. “Raid the bathroom, too,” he suggests. “Soap would be nice.”

—-

“Got everything you need?” I ask Y/N as everyone gathers out back again. We’re all in a slow-motion hurry, now, as the morning is slowly drifting into noon. 

“Uh, yeah, think so,” she says, zipping the oversized pullover she’d found up around her chin, and pulling a toboggan down over her ears. “It’s so hard to think about it being so hot at night, and there’s ice blowing through the air, now…”

“I know, everything is so backwards,” I agree, leaning down to re-tie my boots. 

As I stand back up, she pulls me to the side, causing me to stumble a little bit into her. “Come here…” she whispers, her hand gripped hard in my jacket. 

“Yeah, whoa, yeah?” I laugh as she catches my fall and takes me in her embrace. 

“I found something else, while I was searching the house,” she whispers, her eyes trained on my face. 

“Oh?” I ask. “What’d you find?”

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a brand new razor and a tiny bottle of travel shaving cream. My face falls and I feel my lips flatten into a sarcastic look. “What, you got a problem with this more rugged side of me, or somethin’?” I rake my fingernails through my beard, scratching hard at it. 

She glances around and sees that everyone else is taken up by their own tasks before she wraps her hands in my jacket, pulling me forward into her and around the corner of the house. We stumble back underneath the second-floor porch, hiding in the shadows and away from the wind a bit. She grips me again, pulling me into her as she speaks. 

“No. I love it. Really suits you,” she murmurs, her eyes traveling quickly from my eyes to my mouth. I watch as her breath turns to steam as she exhales, heavy and hot even in the blistering cold. It’s strange to say, but I almost feel like she beckons me without even saying a word. 

And fuck, she is so…

“Know what else I love about it? You feel more mature to me like this, I’ve always been one to prefer facial hair.”

“So I’m guessing you hated it when I used to shave my mustache off for shows, then?” I implore with a teasing tone, leaning in and letting my nose drift over hers playfully. “I couldn’t even grow a beard until I turned 31…”

“Yeah, used to get real fuckin’ mad about it,” she smiles, lurching her hips into mine. “We all used to place bets on if you’d show up with or without one. I lost most of the time, because you always shaved the damned thing off. But I guess it’s also cool that I’m the only one who’s ever seen you like this…”

I growl a laugh, gritting my teeth and feeling the need to be near her again. I feel flushed, even in the cold blowing air, but being near her makes me forget about every bad thing that’s surrounding us. I let my cold hands snake up under her coat, searching like hell to find her bare skin. Finally I find her stomach, attaching my cold palms to it and her hips. “Yeah, actually, I guess you’re right. Just you…”

“Fuck…” she breathes, her body shivering from my touch. “Just me?”

“Just you…” I repeat, taking her bottom lip between my teeth. God, she makes me want to lay her the fuck down, right here in this freezing cold grass. My mind begins spinning with want again as I feel her body weight pressing itself into me, my hands beginning to freely do what they please underneath her layers of shirts, just as they had last night. “What’s the razor for, then? If you like it so well?” 

Her hand comes up and grips the base of my neck, squeezing hard as I allow my hands to finally grip at her tits. She lets out a pitiful sound as her head falls back a little, spurring me on to keep exploring. I can feel her nipples hardening in my fingers, and I’m fighting with everything in me to stop myself from getting too excited, but the more her chest heaves, the harder it gets to concentrate. Her lips are ghosting across mine, and I feel her warm breath landing on my tongue. I need to taste her again.

“Just giving you the option to shave, if you wanted to,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering open and closed. “If not, you can pass it off to Danny.”

Her hand comes around and grips at my jaw, forcing me to thrust my hips into her again. I feel warm all over, almost as if the wind isn’t cutting us in two. There’s no way she can’t tell I’m impossibly hard now, and if the circumstances were different…

“If you like it, I love it,” I breathe into her as our bodies begin lurching and craning onto each other, my hands still massaging at her breasts. God, what I’d give to see her…

“Kiss me, Jake,” she mumbles into my mouth, our lips already almost touching, anyway. My mouth finally overtakes hers, my tongue unable to fight any longer as it begins exploring without any warning. She reacts the same way, pressing her chest more harshly into my hands, practically begging me to feel her even more. We stay this way for a minute or so, just like we did by the koi pond, our bodies pressing and moving as I forcefully back her up against the cold block wall of the house. 

She pushes me away a little, but catches her fingertips in the waistband of my pants, giving her a split second’s access to slip her hand inside. God fucking damnit. 

I take it as it comes as I feel her frozen hand work its way into my boxers, wasting no time in taking me fully in her hand. “Jesus Christ, baby…” I all but moan as I feel my head tilt back on its own. I reach for the wall behind her to steady myself as she squeezes me, her palm soft and gentle but using a little bit of force to show me what she wants. I come in close again, kissing her like my life fully depends on it. “Mmhmm…” I moan against her, my lips vibrating onto hers. 

“Call me baby again,” she whispers when we disconnect for a second to breathe. 

“Baby, baby, baby…” I say quietly, rolling my hips into her hand. “I’ll call you anything you fuckin’ want…”

She whimpers quietly into my mouth again as she pulls at my hair, knotted and ratty at the base of my neck. I’m reminded again of the thought of what she actually sees in me right now, dirty and gritted and unclean, but then again, she probably thinks of herself all the same. Her hair is tangled, her features are tired and a little sunburnt, yet I see her as the most beautiful thing I’ve encountered in ages. All of the things that society deemed as making a person desirable have flown out the window. Because truly, none of it fucking matters. 

Her hand grips around me again as my fingernails dig into the cinderblock, pulsing and throbbing as she takes her time with her show of intimacy. The essence of her is satiating all my senses… her taste, her scent, her touch… 

Then it hits me- this is the rawest I’ve ever felt in my life. 

Attraction comes in all shapes and sizes, and when you stumble upon it, it can either knock you down or confuse you even further. I’ve always been positive in what I want; I know exactly what attracts me and keeps my attention. And I’ve prided myself on that. Coming of age also determines and filters out what you do and do not want in life, and in a lover. And I know that my vision is blurred right now with this overwhelming need to fornicate, but shit, if she isn’t turning all of my past ideals about myself and what I want on their fucking tops. 

She’s different… she’s headstrong and brave, smarter than I could ever even think about being. She’s bold, and she’s unashamed. She acts as though she comes from a time that she didn’t have any business being in. She’s fucking beautiful, taking my breath away with every stolen glance. Yet she’s reserved in all the ways that I am… thinking before she speaks, studying people before she trusts them. I can tell all of this about her, and I’ve committed it all to memory, and I’ve only known her for less than a few weeks. 

Raw, unbridled and desperate, the wind biting at our cheeks as the wetness of our kiss coats our lips and faces, her hand gripping over me still, without any shyness about her aura, at all. Her preference of privacy stunning me as she shows me that she wants me just as badly as I want her. Not because of who she knew me as for the majority of our lives, but who she sees me as right now, untamed and ravenous for one another. And I am fucking enamored.

My hand leaves her breast and travels to grip her ass, covered in layers of pants and coveralls, but I don’t care. I hike her leg up across my hip, letting our bodies become closer as the cold wind whips through the bright green trees. I glance around every few seconds so that I’m positive we’re still alone, though at this point my mind is so fogged with desire that I truly couldn’t care less if we were caught. Her body is warm and inviting, and I let my fingers grip into the muscle between her ass and thigh, squeezing and kneading the skin there as her body rolls into mine again. 

“Would it be too forward of me to say that I fucking want you?” I blurt out with a forced whisper, my mouth overtaking my mind for just a second.

She laughs a little as we separate, her pupils blown as she shakes her head quickly from side to side. “No. It wouldn’t be too forward at all,” she says, squeezing me harder than she has, yet. “I’m the one with my hand on your cock, stupid.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Shit, get it together. My body shudders as I let out a quiet grunt of aggravation, completely blown with desire as my fist pounds into the wall that’s holding us up.

I swear if we weren’t fucking leaving in two goddamned minutes…

“I swear to god, baby, I do…” I growl again, making her grip on me move at a quicker pace. 

Just then we’re surprised by loud conversation near the fire pit, a rustle of everyone gathering up again breaking us from our intertwinement. She removes her hand from my pants and I adjust myself, rolling my eyes at our interruption as my teeth grit with annoyance. We both look at one another with the tiniest bit of shame on our faces, pink and wet with the after-effects of the session. I nod to the side as I silently tell her we’d better go. 

“Wait, Jake,” she whispers, pulling me back by the hand a little. “That’s not what I really wanted to give you.” Her closed fist stuffs into my jacket pocket and drops something inside it, and I watch her coyly turn and walk away with the sweetest smirk on her lips. 

Puzzled, I reach into the pocket and feel the familiar feeling of a small plastic package in my hand. A condom. I can’t help the cheesy smile that crosses my face even if I wanted to. I pull it out to inspect it, looking first and foremost for an expiration date. 

I glance back at her, purely entertained by her bold action. “2034,” she answers the question I didn’t even have to ask. “Actually found a whole box. We’ve got all kinds of time.” She shoots me a wink as she tops back into the gravel pit, going to join the others without me so as not to raise too much suspicion. 

Truly, if she thinks we’re waiting that long, she can go ahead and keep lying to herself. She has no idea what she’s doing to me, and it’s only worsening as the hours tick. For a mere five minutes, my carnal needs completely overshadowed the fact that we’re about to go on a mission that could cost us our lives, and the fact that my brother is currently being fucking brainwashed by entities that belong to another realm completely. I punish myself, but only for a second, as I know for a fact he would go on some big tirade about how humans need sex to thrive and survive in life. He wouldn’t fault me for it at all. In fact, he’d probably celebrate it with me. 

—

“Everyone gather, here is what we’re going to do,” Odin presents himself with a commanding tone, looking each of us in the eye as he speaks. We all take our places near the extinguished fire pit, backpacks and supplies in hand as we all listen intently. I try my best to calm my nerves and take in every detail of his directions, knowing that things could change at the drop of a hat. 

“Josiah and Robbie have reason to believe that your families have been taken to another set of pods just south of here, where no sinkholes have been reported as of yet. These pods are a bit smaller, locked down just as the ones you were in, but if they are going to be anywhere nearby, we assume that it is there,” he explains. “We will travel as a unit, sleep in shifts, and take cover as much as possible under the hindrance of the treelines. The brothers will scout, but we’ve decided it best to arm you, as well.”

Shit. I’ve fired a gun maybe twice, three times in my life? But when it comes to life or death…

The brothers bring us firearms that they’d found inside the home, passing them off to Danny and I. I throw it across my back and hope to the heavens above that muscle memory would kick in, had I need to actually use it. 

“I don’t believe that you will actually need these, as I will be with you always and our most dangerous threat are the hooded guards, of whom I can put to sleep with an arrow,” Odin goes on. “And I’m sorry, we can’t risk the sound of gunshot giving away our location. The smoke from this fire was already too much.”

We all bid a silent goodbye to the house that gave us the shelter we needed, and took off on foot from the coverage of the yard and nearby woodline, watching and waiting for the next threat to come our way.

Y/N

Was I too forward? Did I say too much? Did I move too fast… was the condom overkill?

A million and a half questions are rolling through my mind as we all traverse the heavy trails, making our way south to the other set of pods. We know it will be about a day’s travel, but luckily, with the guidance of Odin and the newfound spirit Sparrow had instilled in each of us, we know the journey will be fruitful. Treacherous, and probably a bit dramatic, but fruitful. Now that we have a better idea of where our families are, and likely Paps, I have a bit more pep in my step to get to him. And to Josh. 

Of course it wasn’t overkill, he reacted exactly how I expected him to. He even said he wanted me. Hello? Me?? I don’t even know what is happening between Jake and I, it’s difficult to even fathom. Just months ago he was an image on my phone screen or a video on my stupid tikok feed, but now. Now… 

I find myself wanting to text my friends again. Say, ‘You are never going to fucking believe this. Like, you’re really not…’, and they really wouldn’t. It’d be too good to be true. It’d take convincing, it’d take proof, it’d take receipts. I can hear them all squealing through voice memos, sending long strings of mismatched letters that don’t form words, immediate facetimes so they could watch me explain myself to their faces. Listen to every detail that we had all envisioned at one point or another in our lives.

But it’d never happen. I don’t even know if they’re all alive. 

“Watcha thinkin’ about?” I hear Sam’s voice suddenly startle me from watching my feet walk across the ground. 

“Oh, ah, nothing. Just…my friends,” I say to him, giving him a sullen smile as I pull my jacket closer around me. “I was thinking about what they’d say if I could tell them that I ended up meeting up with you guys. If they’d believe me.”

“Hm,” he laughs. “You think they would?”

“It’d take some convincing, but, I think they’d know I wouldn’t make something like that up,” I grin, pulling a few pieces of tree limbs away from my path. 

“Crazy that we all ended up here,” he says. “Crazy how we all found each other.”

“I know,” I breathe, glancing to Jake ten or so steps ahead of me. “I never even thought I’d even get to have a conversation with any of you, let alone–”

“Sneak off with one under a porch?” he cuts me off. 

I– oh fuck.

“Sam, what– what are you talking about,” I stutter, my face falling into a deep dark shade of red. Oh my god, if he saw us…

He lets out his classic guttural ha-ha laugh as a particularly harsh wind rips through us. His loud laugh causes Jake and Danny to whip around and look at us, and I shoot them and Sam a deathly glare. But I know that Jake probably notices the worry on my face. 

“I’m not gonna rat you out, don’t worry,” he goes on. “I didn’t see anything… just… watched you sneak off. That’s all. The rest wasn’t my business.”

“The rest?” I squeak, trying to stay quiet. “Sam!”

He’s gritting his teeth together in a huge, shit-eating smile, hissing annoying little laughs as he pulls sticks free from our way. I feel like I could trip him and watch him eat dirt right now, the little twit. Jake keeps turning around and glancing at us; he knows his brother is digging himself a cute little hole to jump into if he isn’t careful. 

“What the fuck do you think happened?” I press, kind of wanting to hear what he has to say. 

“Hey, I said it’s none of my business,” he goes on, puffing his cheeks up with air as he avoids laughing again. “My brother’s love life isn’t any concern of mine.” 

Will you please quit using that word, Samuel…

“God, can you just, not? Please?” I bark in a quiet tone, completely enjoying this back and forth with him. “I already feel weird enough…”

“Why?” he asks way too quickly. 

“Because,” I bite. I toss my hands up, trying to get him to understand. “I was, ya know… A fan, and stuff, and now it’s like..” 

“Oh whatever,” he interrupts me. “Hey Y/N, the goddamn world is ending and all our loved ones got killed by a flesh-eating rash. Yours did, ours did. There’s no such thing as levels of hierarchy anymore, if that’s the way you’re looking at it. We’re just fucking humans, ya know? We’re all just out here trying to survive this shit. Please don’t think like that…” he says a little confrontationally. “We could run into freaking Taylor Swift right now, and she’d still be trudging along in this damned frozen jungle just as we are.” 

I giggle at his comparison, as corny as it is, feeling just a little more at ease. “You’re right, you’re right. Just. Strange, I guess.”

He shrugs. “It is strange, Y/N. Nothing about anything that has happened in the past year is anything close to normal. But… maybe you were meant to run into him in the pods. Maybe it was meant to be this way, who knows?”

I nod, glancing again up to Odin and Sparrow on the horse to make sure they haven’t noticed any threats. 

“You guys are cute together, too,” he adds. 

I roll my eyes. “Ugh, Sam, don’t make me gag. I will shove you down onto this thorn bush.”

“I’m serious,” he laughs. “I don’t mean to poke fun at you. I’m just saying, maybe this is a really, really good thing, Y/N. He seems… I dunno. Excited. Even while worrying about Josh. It’s like you come around and he’s instantly relaxed. I think you have more of an effect on him than you realize.”

“HOLD!” Odin suddenly says from the front of the group, holding his fist high in the air as everyone freezes where we stand. My heart begins pattering as he slowly hops down from his horse, leading Sparrow to do the same. I watch as he pulls his bow from his back and loads it, Sparrow doing the same as she pulls her sword from it’s sheath at her side. 

“Fuck, what’s happening, what’s going on?” I whisper to Sam as he instantly grabs onto my shoulder, quietly leading us nearer to the front with Danny and Jake. 

The brothers bring up the rear and have their weapons drawn and ready. I don’t hear anything, and I don’t see anything, but I do feel Jake’s hand land forcefully on my hip as we gather in a protective circle. 

“Do not fire your weapon unless we say so, got it?” Robbie says to Jake and Danny as he passes, and I feel my heart drop. They both nod in understanding. The brothers exchange a few hand signals as they quickly dash off the trail beside us, keeping eyes with Odin as they scout around. 

“What did they hear?” Jake asks us, and we all shrug as our eyes stay trained on our surroundings. The wind has settled a bit, but the sun is bright and hot as it shines through the leaves of the trees. There’s bits of ice on the tall grasses beside us, and I feel myself become disoriented with the way the weather is working, again. 

I feel my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes scatter around the thick woods, Jake’s hand clutching mine protectively, now. I hear cracks in the trees, I hear steps that don’t sound like steps. High up, and down low. Sparrow backs up toward us, her dusty light following her as the wind floats her long hair into the air. 

A fast glance from Odin tells her something I cannot read, and he quickly hops back onto his horse, kicking his leg into its side as it takes off just off the pathway. They’ve disappeared and we’re still left clueless, the brothers back from their scout and closed in, just as confused as we are. 

“What was that?” I ask Sparrow quietly, my hot breath floating like smoke across the air. 

“More guards, they aren’t very close, but we can sense when they’re near,” she replies. “Their tactics to find us are becoming more clever, as they are now being told that you’re missing from the pods. And that Josiah and Robbie have turned on them.”

“They can come and fuckin’ get us, if they want us,” Robbie snarls as he readjusts his weapon. “Pardon my language, Ma’am.” 

I watch Sparrow smirk, giving him a look that says she is the last one he should worry about offending. 

“Come, let’s continue on,” she says as she draws her sword and keeps it protectively at her side as we keep going. “Odin will alert me if anything is close.”

It feels like my feet don’t want to move without me actively telling them to, now. The fear that’s beginning to settle in my bones has grown tenfold after that scare, and without me being able to see Odin. He has become a wall of peace and protection for us in the past few days, and it feels strange not having him in my line of sight. 

But still yet, Jake’s hand clutches mine, and to me, that feels more safe than anything else in our crumbling world. 

We walk along for another silent twenty minutes or so, clumped together and anxious along what used to be an old worn-in path used by hikers and bikers, now very much overgrown and succumbing to the wild again. Thorns catch on my clothing, and rocks and dirt scatter as I step, but we keep along, our eyes watchful and patrolling as we head south. I wish to god Odin would reappear. 

As we walk in the quiet, my mind drifts to Paps and what he might be doing right now, what they might be doing to him. Watching him be ripped away from me might be one of the most aggravating and terrifying things I’ve ever had to witness, and even though I know he is the strongest man I know, deep down I know that he hides his fears. 

If they really have taken him as a pawn for their testing, will he still have his memory? Will he remember me at all?

I feel a shudder as the frigid air envelops me and bites at the tip of my nose, making me feel like I’m frozen to the core. This cold feels different, especially with the sun shining so brightly. It doesn’t feel like it used to, it almost seems as though the debilitating feeling of fear is sewn into it, nefariously making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My body doesn’t shake with the chill anymore, but it shakes with the unending fear of not knowing what the next second of my life will hold. What the earth will be doing. If we will be alive tomorrow or not. And the most terrifying thought of it all, is that there is nothing we can do to change it.

The wicked shiver chills me down to my soul…only time will tell.

I miss Paps so badly, and I want nothing more than to get to him. The possibility of their family being in the same pod as Paps is likely, which makes me feel a little bit better, but what are we going to do when we get there? Ambush the place? Sneak in a back door while we try not to get caught?

Surely Odin and Sparrow have thought it through, and I’m sure that the brothers have some sort of plan as to how to infiltrate the building. Or maybe, we’re just flying along with no plan at all. Because truly, none of us know the reality of what we're walking into.

Sam and Danny trail behind me, steadfast and courageous, truly grown into the men that I always envisioned they might have. I know they are just as worried as Jake is of what state of mind we will find Josh in, but I think they are holding it together for him. They don’t want to speak- yet- and bring such a horrific reality to life. If Josh is too far gone, and his mind is not his own anymore, will we have to leave him behind for the safety of ourselves?

I can’t even fathom that thought, right now. There is no way that will be our new reality. Starting a new life without Josh is just…

The sun has begun to slip behind the trees, and I know that the heat will return soon and we will all be sweating in the night air instead of freezing. I’m ready to feel a little relief from this new shiver that’s taken up shop in the deepest tissues of my body. In the back of my mind, I hope that Sparrow’s ability to make us all feel more at ease doesn’t take away from her energy source; she doesn’t know how badly we all need her.

Just as my mind feels as though it’s completely shoved full of too many unanswered thoughts, heavy cloud coverage moves in over the sun and begins casting strange shadows across the thick woods around us, and suddenly, my wicked shiver turns from a physical feeling into a subconscious gut suspicion of uneasiness. 

The wind hasn’t blown in minutes, now. 

I slow my steps, glancing around through the trees as darkness begins to shower us, faster and faster. Odin isn’t back yet, and the air feels as if it is standing still and creeping in around us. Something isn’t right. 

Suddenly I get the urge to pause and listen, stopping myself in my tracks as Sam bumps into me from behind. “Whoa, what’s–”

“Shh,” I hold my hand up to him, watching as Jake has noticed I’ve stopped, too. 

“You’re right, child, something feels wrong,” Sparrow says quietly from in front of Jake. Her hand grips her sword more tightly as she cranes her neck all over, looking up and around and through the woods. My chest tightens as I feel as though I’m preparing myself for something, something that has intention to hurt me. Hurt all of us. The feeling that I had when Paps and I had driven the truck into town and were stopped by those creatures has come back full force. Like a dark black cloud is hanging over me, and there is no way I am ever going to wash the feeling of dread from my psyche. 

Within seconds, the sunlight is almost completely gone. Jake’s hand takes mine again as we all press together in a terrified huddle, the brothers at the edges with their weapons drawn. “What is this? What’s happening?” Jake relents. I feel myself beginning to panic, my head darting side to side erratically as I begin to hear unfamiliar sounds coming from the forest. Not birds, not animals… there is no wind to rustle the trees, and there is no way of seeing what is now surely closing in on us. But I can feel it.

“Stay close, everyone, it seems as though we’re surrounded…” Sparrow says a little more loudly now. Her voice is panicked for the first time since we’ve met her. “Odin, Odin, where are you?” she says to herself, drawing her weapon higher. 

It’s dark, now. Pitch black. The world feels more hollow than it ever has. My skin feels like it could fall from my body as my depraved mindset becomes more and more dreadful. I know that whatever is surrounding us in the shadows is draining every ounce of happiness from my body, and try as I might, I can’t form one positive or uplifting thought. 

“Don’t let it consume you, my loves, don’t let it…” I hear Sparrow's voice as a loud hum begins to eat away at my ear drums, deafening me to almost totality. I grip onto Jake’s hand as we all crowd in together, writhing under the feeling of being so suddenly enclosed and debilitated. I can’t even see what’s around us. Not even Sparrow’s overwhelming power of comfort can match whatever it is they are putting onto us. 

“We should run!” I hear Danny suggest, the drone of the hum making him sound like he is a million miles away. “Let’s go!!” 

I feel him pull away from us as I begin to become disoriented, weakening as the seconds tick. “Jake.. I–” I can hardly form any words as I feel like all my energy is depleting. His hand is still latched tightly onto mine, and I begin to see spurts of light through the darkness of my vision, blurry and bright as my eyelids get heavy. 

“Y/N, no!” I hear his voice in my ear, the sweetest sound I have ever heard. “We’ve got to run, we’ve got to go!” Suddenly I feel as though every emotion has been ripped away from my body. 

Where is my gumption? Nothing matters, we’re all going to die, anyway. 

“Sweet Y/N, run!” Sparrow urges me, too, as I feel Jake begin to pull me along just as I had pulled him through the building as it crumbled into the sinkhole around us back at the pod. 

I can’t move, just leave me here. 

I feel my knees hit the dirt at the same time that I feel many sets of unwelcome hands all over me, burning through my thick coats and jackets as they touch me. The hum grows louder and louder, and my blood grows thicker and thicker. Just leave me…

I’m being pulled two ways- one way with the burning hands and one way toward the man whom I have come to adore so intensely, but I could somehow care less who ends up with me. I don’t even mind one way or the other. My endurance is gone. 

Jake squeezes my hands in the darkness, pulling me with everything in him as I feel Sam and Danny join him in his attempts. “Don’t let go of me, Y/N! Do you hear me!” he screams, his voice so worried and terrified. Why are you so scared, Jake? Why do you care about me? “Don’t let her go, Danny! Don’t let her slip!”

“She’s ours, now, you all belong to us…” I hear the crippling voice of the hooded guard say from behind me. I recognize the sing-song voice from their first attempts at taking us, like sirens luring us into the deepest depths of the night. “There’s nothing you can do, your world is a star defying time… you must come with us…”

Everything is blurry, nothing has shape. The burning hands are gripping at all points of my body, now, as I feel like I’m being ripped in two. I hear Sparrow’s shrieks in the distance, and I feel Jake’s grip on my hands begin to weaken. 

“Sam, Sam, get up! Let’s go! I– I can’t hold you both–”

His hands feel like my only anchors to the earth, sure and grounding, but I can’t find the strength to even try and hold on to them. He’s slipping from me, and it’s then that I realize he’s being pulled by them, too. 

We’re being taken. And there’s nothing we can do to stop it.

“Y/N, baby, please!” I hear his honeyed voice again, still so perfect even when he’s terrified. Don’t be so scared, Jake… you shouldn’t even be worried about me. I mean nothing to you. 

“Let GO of me!!” he yells, but it’s no use. He’s ten paces away from me now as I realize that our hands have finally separated, and the burning hands are still holding me. His screaming voice is nothing but a howl in the distance. “Y/N!!!”

My body feels limp and lifeless as the burning hands hold me upright, pulling my body across bushes and grasses and limbs, my legs and feet falling behind me. But I don’t even care. Why don’t I care? Death is probably soon, anyway. Nothing matters.

The eyes of the creatures taking me are burning a bright red, the drone of the hum still prevalent in my ears. 

Again I hear his voice calling out for me across the hillside, bouncing off the treetrunks and cutting through the warming air as the sound of it warms my soul and kills it at the same time. I want him, I need him… he’s the only thing that’s kept my head above water… But our magnets have somehow lost their polarity. I dig down deep and plead with myself, and whoever in the heavens above will listen to forsake me this one time, and bring me out on the other side of this. I have to help them, I have to find Paps… 

Jake…Please… Don’t let them keep me…

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka @jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter @gretnavannfleet @pineapple-photographer @joshylanefleet @becinabubblegvf @ageofmach1ne

[sailtomarina]

Colourful, but Controlled, Chaos

Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Reader | fluff, humor

There wasn’t a day that went by where the Weasley twins weren’t up to something. Whether it was the Slytherins walking into the Great Hall for breakfast with mutinous expressions and lime green hair, the piercing outcry that followed Madam Pince’s discovery of stacks of Playwiz scattered across the library, or how miniature swamps appeared seemingly at random around the castle, there was never a moment of peace.

You would have laughed if you weren’t furious.

Because these pranks didn’t just occur to the deserved or only during downtime, but at all times of day to anyone and everyone. There were no exceptions to the terrors they wrought, not even towards each other.

That fairness would be admirable, you supposed, if you hadn’t witnessed painfully shy firsties sobbing from embarrassment, or been a victim yourself to a well-hidden shower charm that turned your hair a brilliant shade of lilac. You’d thought of all people you might be the special one, being as you were one of their closest friends.

Finals loomed and you knew the entire castle was on the verge of implosion. It would only take a slight nudge from Fred and George to send teachers and students alike into a war that would leave nothing but rubble in its wake.

“This has to stop. Now.” You stood before them, hands propped on your hips and wearing your fiercest scowl. 

It was the look that never failed to send Malfoy and his followers scurrying to their dungeon. The look could even silence students like Marcus Flint and Cormac McLaggen, transforming their swaggers into straight backs and shoulders.

Fred and George, however, were not so easily cowed.

The matching pairs of eyes bluer than the clearest summer sky took you in for a grand total of five seconds before they burst into laughter, louder than before.

“I mean it!” you insisted. “We only have these last weeks until break and we, I, need peace to study.”

The seriousness of your plea fell on deaf ears as they paused to peer up at you, only to dissolve into giggles once more. Even more galling to you was the fact that no matter how much mischief the two of them created, they still somehow scored high marks in nearly every one of their classes.

“Gred, I think Y/N is on the verge of hexing us.”

“I believe you’re right, Forge. It’s a good thing we’re so fast on our feet, isn’t it?”

Before you could whip out your wand and do just that, they hauled you forward into their laps. You were as helpless as a mermaid on land as they manoeuvred you across them, fingers delving towards all your ticklish spots until you screamed for mercy.

“Please, no more! Fred! George!”

Their hands let up, and you panted at the reprieve. The grins they wore were wider than ever on their stupidly handsome faces. You wanted to smack them and snog them all at the same time. The two emotions battled for control, with you the helpless party. If you weren’t so head-over-heels for them, you would have killed them by now.

When you finally had your breath under control, you fixed them with another stern glare. “I know you might find this difficult to comprehend, but there is a limit to my patience.”

“Ooooooh, that sounds terrifying.” Fred’s distinctly non-terrified smirk preceded his twin’s.

“What’s in it for us if we behave, love?” George asked. There was a dangerous glint to his eye to pair with the twist of his lips.

You could feel the heat of their hands on you even through your uniform. Your throat felt dry, and you licked your lips on reflex. There were words you wanted to say, had wanted to say for weeks now. You weren’t sure if saying them now, here, was a mistake. Maybe this was the push you’d needed.

“If…” you cleared your throat, then continued, “If you hold off on any further pranks until after tests are over, I will go on a date with you. Both of you.”

You’d heard the rumours. Knew them to be true. Fred and George Weasley didn’t do anything by halves. When they loved, they loved together. That meant that anyone who chose to be with one also chose to be with both. There was no taking one without the other.

The hands that rested across your legs and waist tightened, drawing you closer into them. There were no smiles now on their faces; only the full force of their attention on you and nothing else.

“Do you mean it, Y/N?”

“You’ll be ours?”

You bit your lip at the heat in their questions. You needed to clarify things, even if all you wanted to do was say ‘yes’. Keep them focused. “I’ll go on one date. What happens after that depends on how that date goes.”

They remained sombre as they scooched apart to help you sit up. The handshake you shared sealed the deal for peace.

One month and a single date later, they had you exactly where they wanted you–in their arms and completely theirs. You even chipped in those last few days of the school year, your guilt just as apparent as theirs as Hogwarts erupted into colourful, but controlled, chaos.

6.11.24 prompt, “I know you might find this difficult to comprehend…”

883 wc

Cross-posted on Facebook and Tumblr.

I’ve fallen off the treadmill lately with short prompts like this one due to all the fest writing I’ve been doing these past couple of months. I really want to get back into them because they make for great exercises to get the words flowing. Hopefully, you can look forward to more of these soon!

[theblackfemininesociety]

Girl Talk: How To Properly Hold Someone Accountable.

“You know that I love you, that’s with a passion but I’ll hold you accountable for your actions”

— ��Accountable’ by BLXST

☕️ Let’s Have a Girl Talk:

In a society that often perpetuates toxic behaviors and fosters a culture of disrespect, it is crucial to explore alternative approaches to accountability. The Black Feminine Society embraces the idea that we can hold individuals accountable with love, genuine respect, and compassion, without resorting to demeaning and disrespectful tactics.

By confronting issues with a solution-oriented mindset and fostering progressive conversations, we can pave the way for positive change and growth.

This blog post delves into the power of accountability, the role of love and respect, and the importance of proactive engagement.

Accountability, by definition, involves acknowledging our mistakes, taking responsibility for our actions, and making amends where necessary.

The Power of Accountability:

Accountability is a fundamental aspect of personal and societal growth. It involves taking responsibility for one's actions, acknowledging the consequences, and actively working towards healing and restoration. Within the Black Feminine Society, accountability is approached as an empowering tool that encourages individuals to reflect, learn, and evolve. By holding ourselves and others accountable, we create opportunities for personal development and collective progress.

The truth is, genuine accountability is rooted in love, respect, and compassion. It is about holding our sisters accountable without demeaning them, without disrespecting them, but instead, acknowledging their potential for growth.

Tough love is not about harshness or severity. It's about transparency and honesty, delivered with good intentions and from the heart. It's about acknowledging the issue at hand and addressing it directly but kindly. It's about making the other person understand that they are loved and respected, even when they are being held accountable.

However, the reality is that holding someone accountable can often be challenging and uncomfortable. It becomes even more complicated when we want to ensure that the process is filled with respect and compassion, instead of negativity.

•

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So, what actions can we take to encourage compassionate accountability in our society?

🩷 Understanding & Empathy:

Recognize the individual's experiences and feelings and validate them. By doing this, you're telling them that their perspective matters, and you're willing to walk alongside them on their journey to improvement.

👄 Speak from Love, Not Anger:

It's crucial to communicate from a place of love and genuine concern, rather than anger or frustration. This doesn't mean you shouldn't express your feelings; it just means you should do so in a way that doesn't belittle or disrespect the other person.

🩷 Focus on the Issue, Not the Person:

When holding someone accountable, concentrate on the behavior or action that needs addressing, not the individual. This approach ensures the person doesn't feel personally attacked, facilitating a more open and productive conversation.

✨Propose a Solution:

Confronting someone about an issue is the first step, but it's equally vital to present a solution, plan, or support. This positive action sets the tone for a progressive conversation and shows that you're invested in resolving the issue together, not merely pointing out faults.

🩷 Give Them Space:

After the confrontation, give the person some time and space to process the information. It's important to respect their need for reflection.

Join the sisterhood, Follow us on INSTAGRAM & FACEBOOK

[cosmicjoke]

How "Attack on Titan" Advocates Through Levi and Jean the Superiority of Remaining Human over Becoming a Monster:

There’s an idea presented early on in “Attack on Titan”, which revolves around the concept of needing to become a monster in order to defeat monsters.

At its earliest suggestion, we hear it from Armin, and it’s obvious what it means within the context of fighting titans. Titans are, after all, literal, giant monsters that go around eating people.

But of course, later on, this idea becomes much more complex, what it means becoming more vague and abstract, just like “AoT” itself.

We again hear Armin speak about it with Jean, and also Levi speaking about it during his monologue to the 104th, during the Uprising Arc.

But what I think people tend to misinterpret and misunderstand about “AoT” is that the story very clearly advocates against this idea, and instead promotes the opposite, which is the idea of maintaining our humanity in the face of a cruel and merciless world.

And I think the two characters that it demonstrates this most powerfully through are Levi and Jean. That also makes sense to me, as Levi is the character that perhaps has the largest impact and influence on Jean and his development.

Delving first into Levi and how he demonstrates and, ultimately, I think, proves how “AoT” wants its audience to understand that it’s better to retain our humanity than to become a monster, it’s necessary to talk about Levi and Erwin.

Levi admires Erwin and, indeed, thinks of Erwin as a superior human being to himself. I think, initially, Levi even seeks to emulate him.

The reason Levi admires Erwin and considers him superior to himself, the reason he trusts so much in Erwin and his vision, is because Erwin is able to remain detached from all sentiment in the performance of his duty. He’s able to remain hard-hearted, to make cold and calculating choices and decisions, divorced from any, personal feeling. This is a quality of Erwin’s that Levi both admires, but important to note, is also repulsed by. We see Levi remark several times throughout the story about Erwin’s “creepiness”. He seems often unsettled by Erwin’s lack of emotion and we also see Levi express disgust and ambivalence over several of Erwin’s plans which generally involve sacrificing human lives in order to succeed.

The reason Levi ultimately admires this quality in Erwin, though, and why he believes it makes Erwin superior to himself, is because he believes that ruthlessness in Erwin is built upon a foundation of altruism.

He believes Erwin’s intentions are pure and selfless, and that Erwin himself is a good man.  That he only behaves coldly because he genuinely cares about people and prioritizes them above all else, and that a certain level of detachment is necessary to succeed in his goal of bettering their lives.  Levi himself thinks that Erwin’s ruthlessness, his ability to remain detached and unpersuaded by personal feelings, is a necessary quality, excusable because Erwin utilizes it in order to achieve a better world, by securing humanity’s victory over the titans. 

This is an important distinction to understand, that Levi sees Erwin as a good and compassionate man, but one who is able to detach himself from emotion when a particular circumstance calls for it. So we know that Levi doesn’t view compassion as a weakness. He wouldn’t trust in Erwin if he thought he was a heartless man.

He sees Erwin as superior to himself because Erwin doesn’t struggle in the same way as he does to remove his personal feelings from his choices

And we see this struggle, and ultimately, this inability in Levi to detach himself from feeling, from compassion, and to let that compassion influence his choices, again and again and again, from beginning to end of the story.

He comes across at first as a cold and efficient soldier, able to cut down titans with greater precision and ease than anyone else. His demeanor seems to speak to a cold, unfeeling personality, his lack of expression adding to the effect.

But then, to fly directly in the face of his initial appearance as a cold and efficient killing machine, he turns around and shows exceptional compassion and kindness and a deep ability to empathize with others, tragic even in how affected he is by their pain and suffering.

We see this seeming contrast in Levi’s very first appearance in canon, when we first meet him cutting down titans and remarking upon how ugly they are, expressing disgust when he gets their blood on his hands.

But the very next thing we see Levi do is comfort a dying soldier, grasping his blood-soaked hand without hesitation and listening to his dying words, promising the man that he won’t let his death go in vain. Promising that he’ll use his sacrifice to fuel his own strength and determination to rid the world of titans. We then see Levi ask Petra, in an almost childlike way, if she thinks the soldier heard his vow before passing away, seeking Petra’s reassurance that he was able to bring the man some comfort before his death.

So, it’s shown to us immediately what kind of person Levi actually is.

Levi is all heart, unable and unwilling to abandon compassion toward others, even in the face of a cruel and merciless world.

Again and again we see this, and we see Levi’s attempts to emulate Erwin and his ruthlessness failing as a result.

For example, during the Female Titan Arc, when Dieter begs to be able to go back to retrieve his friend’s corpse, and Erwin and Levi tell him he can’t, and begin to walk away, despite Deiter’s anguished protests. Dieter accuses them both of being heartless, and then decides to strike out on his own to retrieve Ivan’s body, in the process leading a group of titans to the retreating Survey Corps, endangering their lives.

Despite Levi appearing earlier to be deaf to Deiter’s despair, and despite Dieter’s reckless actions endangering the whole group, causing them to have to abandon the bodies they were able to recover, including those of Levi’s squad, and despite his own unkindness toward Levi in accusing him of being heartless, rather than scolding Deiter or showing any sort of anger toward him, Levi instead gives Petra’s badge to him and tells him it belonged to Ivan. We see through this that, despite before walking away with Erwin from Deiter’s emotional breakdown, again, attempting to emulate Erwin’s professional detachment from the situation, Levi was never actually closed off or deaf to Diether’s pain; that he was in fact deeply affected by it, and he’s ultimately unable to keep himself from trying to comfort Dieter by giving away his own memento by which to remember Petra and saying it belonged to Deiter’s friend.

Again, we see Levi’s great humanity in these moments, which is directly at odds with the idea presented, of having to become a monster in order to defeat monsters.

Levi views his own sentimentality as a hinderance to his ability to perform his duty and be a good soldier. Again, it’s why he both admires Erwin, but is also, at times, repulsed by him. Because he views Erwin’s ability to detach himself and not give into emotion as a necessary and positive quality in a leader, while at the same time, such detachment and lack of emotion rankles against Levi’s own nature. It feels wrong to him, to ignore another person’s suffering, and he’s unable himself to do so.

There are numerous other examples of Levi being unable to detach himself or remain emotionless throughout the story, but for now let’s move on.

We see again Levi’s attempts to be more like Erwin during the Uprising Arc, which I think he expresses most openly during his monologue to the 104th. He talks about being willing to take on the role of a “lunatic who kills people”, as long as it means nobody else ever has to take on that role themselves. Now this is important, because we see expressed here a foreshadowing of Levi’s decision during the RtS Arc, of letting Erwin rest, of his unwillingness to let Erwin become a monster for their sakes.

Levi wants to be more like Erwin because he wants to keep others from having to become monsters. He wants to help others preserve their humanity.

Levi grew up in an environment which forced him to do bad things in order to survive. He had to learn to kill and steal and be violent just to make it from day to day, and yet, that’s what makes it all the more remarkable, and what serves as a true testament to Levi’s compassionate nature, that instead of becoming bitter and vengeful and wanting to give the world back the same cruelty and unkindness he was forced to endure, he wants rather to prevent it and shield others from the same sort of experiences and from having to resort to the same extremes he did in order to keep living. He wants to be able to promote kindness and compassion, rather than violence and cruelty.

Again, he thinks at this point in the story the only way to achieve that is by taking on the role of monster himself and, again, being more like Erwin, cold and detached. But there’s an inherent contradiction in that belief and in Levi’s own goals. The very reason Levi is so determined to prevent others from having to become monsters and engage in violence themselves is because of his own compassion and kindness. He doesn’t want to see other people suffer. He isn’t okay with other people suffering. And he isn’t okay with inflicting suffering on others. It’s that very fact about himself that Levi doesn’t quite realize makes him a superior person.

We see this demonstrated in the aftermath of Levi’s and Hange’s torture of Sannes. Levi is visibly disturbed and upset at the orders he’s just had to carry out. We know this because we see how it’s discombobulated Levi’s normally very sharp awareness. He forgets entirely the reason they were torturing Sannes to begin with, which was to extract from him the information about who the true heir to the throne was, that being Historia. We know he forgets, because he forgets to inform Historia herself of the information they’ve gathered, and then when he does remember to tell her, and she initially refuses to even consider taking the throne, he lashes out in frustration and anger at her selfishness. Levi loses himself in this moment to his own discomfort, preoccupied as he is with the realization that he’s had to cause suffering in another human being.

We see here, again, Levi failing to be like Erwin, failing to remain detached and unaffected by human suffering.

He talks about being a monster, or a lunatic, but just as we’ve seen from the beginning, Levi is truly anything but. He’s a deeply empathetic and kind person who again and again is unable to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, no matter the cause. As he says, he's willing to "play" the role of a lunatic, but Levi is never able to actually become that. He's never able to do anything but play-act, to pretend at it. And when moments arrive in which he's actually faced with another beings torment, again, the facade of that role drops away, and we're left with who Levi really is, a kind and compassionate man.

And still, Levi thinks Erwin is the superior person, because Erwin’s detachment is in service to the greater good and he can make choices toward that end that Levi himself struggles with.

Only soon Levi, along with the audience, finds out that’s not actually the case.

Erwin’s ability and willingness to remain emotionless, it turns out, was never in service of any such altruistic or selfless goal, but rather in service of Erwin’s own personal and selfish dream.

We find out that as a result of this years long detachment and the secret, personal motivation underlying it, Erwin is in fact ridden with a sense of deep guilt and remorse, but still unable, despite that guilt, to willingly abandon his dream.

Ultimately, he needs Levi to make that decision for him.

Erwin, whom Levi had considered to be a stronger and better man than himself for being able to make the “hard choices”, is too weak morally to do the right thing on his own, even as he very desperately wants to.

And here I think we see the first, clear demonstration of how “AoT” wants its audience to understand that sentimentality and compassion are not, in fact, a weakness, but rather a strength, and that it’s better to retain ones humanity, rather than allowing oneself to become a monster.

We realize that, all this time, it was actually Levi who was the superior one. That you don’t defeat monsters with monstrosity, but with humanity. That being a monster isn’t what makes you strong, but being human. Levi is stronger than Erwin, not in the physical sense, but in the moral sense, and that strength finds its roots in the purity of his heart and intentions. He never betrays what he feels is right, not for anything, and that’s how Levi lives with “no regrets”, as he says. Whatever the outcome of his decisions, Levi is able to have no regrets because he knows in each of those choices, he chose what he genuinely believed to be the correct and just course. Erwin’s ability to make the “hard choices” and remain detached from feeling never made him the embodiment of the Survey Corp’s ideal, rather, it was Levi’s inability to abandon his humanity is that made him the true embodiment of that. Because, after all, what does the SC fight for but humanity itself?

We see Levi’s continued humanity play out when he’s forced to make his decision atop that roof, of whether to give the serum to Erwin or to Armin. He chooses, ultimately, not to give the serum to Erwin because, in alignment with his earlier statement about wanting to prevent others from having to become monsters, he refuses to let Erwin become a monster for them. That encapsulates Levi’s strength. His unwavering resolve to do what he believes is just and right, no matter what.

Erwin was a good man. We see this I think most clearly when he promises the family of Dimo Reeves that his true killer will be brought to justice. He isn’t without feeling or sentiment. But he was in danger of becoming that way, of becoming a “devil” as Floch calls him, and Levi refused to let that happen. He refused to let Erwin’s humanity be sacrificed for a cause. And, again, it’s because of Levi’s own, great humanity that he refused it. He couldn’t condemn a fellow human being to further suffering, or to monstrosity. That refusal to waver in his morality, that refusal to betray his own beliefs and heart is contrasted directly with Erwin’s own weakness and inability to stay true to what he knows is right, and is meant, I think, to demonstrate once more why compassion and kindness are in fact what makes a person strong.

And we know this choice rooted in compassion is ultimately the right choice, and that the narrative wants its audience to see it as the right choice, (unlike what some of the characters in the story, or even some obtuse readers/viewers insist upon) because it leads to humanity’s eventual salvation. Armin, through his own innocence and purity, is able to convince Zeke to get off his ass and actually help stop the Rumbling, something Erwin would have been incapable of as a result of his own, tainted psyche and guilt in relation to his dream.

It’s more than implied that forcing Erwin back into the role of Commander, when his psyche was already breaking down as a consequence of his guilt, would have resulted in Erwin becoming a true monster, willing to do anything and foregoing compassion entirely in pursuit of victory. And if you need an example of where that would have led, look no further than Zeke or Floch, both characters who indeed abandoned any sense of humanity in favor of succeeding in their ideological goals.

There’s a reason the narrative frames Floch and Zeke in a negative, villainous light. We’re meant to see their abandonment of humanity as a bad thing, just like we’re meant to see Erwin’s detachment from feeling as bad, with the way it pushes him to the precipice of madness and drowns him in self-hatred. Again, the implication is that, were he forced to continue on in that role, he would have eventually fallen to the same folly and monstrosity that gripped Floch and Zeke.

That brings me to Jean, and how he, like Levi, also serves to demonstrate the importance of retaining ones humanity in the face of a cruel world.

Jean’s humanity is, in fact, directly contrasted during the raid on Liberio with Floch’s lack of humanity. And I’ll get into that soon.

But first it’s also necessary to go back and talk about what it is Jean learned from Levi and how that influences Jean to retain his humanity moving forward.

I’ve spoken before about how Jean is initially very judgmental toward Levi and even views him as being a bad person for killing other people, right up until the moment Jean himself is forced into a position of kill or be killed. He learns that judging others for their actions without understanding the context is bad, because you can very easily end up in the same position and having to make the same choice. He learns that he and Levi aren't so very different, that Levi doesn't kill because he wants to, but because he has to, and that being forced into a position of having to kill and being willing to kill doesn't in itself render someone without compassion or feeling, or indicate their morality, or a lack of morality. And, in fact, I think, Levi and Jean actually share some very core characteristics with one another. I think both of them are, in truth, the most morally strong characters in "AoT". Even still, in that moment of having to kill, Jean hesitates, and in doing so, forces Armin to take on the burden of becoming a killer for him.

Jean thinks, in the aftermath, that Levi is going to scold him for his failure to do his duty and so he apologizes to him for judging him and vows never to hesitate in taking the killing shot again. Jean expects Levi to chastise him, and maybe even gloat about his own correctness in killing, but instead, Levi tells him that he can’t say whether Jean was wrong or right for hesitating to kill, that he only knows that his failure to do so put all their lives in danger, but that Jean is entitled to and must decide for himself going forward what he believes is the correct course of action in any, given situation.

Jean’s earlier assumption about Levi being a bad person because he kills other people is proven wrong. We see that Levi, in fact, takes no pleasure in and doesn’t at all want to kill people, or even influence others toward that course of action. Indeed, again, as Levi later states in his monologue, he wants to prevent other people from having to become “lunatics”, from having to commit violence, and in that speech, it’s also clear to me that Levi laments the fact that the members of the 104th have, as he says, been exposed to too many abnormal things, forcing them into situations where they have to make those sorts of decisions at all. Again, Levi has grown up in a world that’s taught him that his survival and the survival of others often depended upon his willingness and ability to take life, but that doesn’t mean he views killing as a good thing or even that he tries to justify it. Levi applies no moral judgment to the act of killing. He doesn’t call it right or wrong, and he doesn’t attempt to influence Jean to see it in any, particular light either. Instead, he encourages Jean to form his own opinion and, in the process, to retain his humanity. Again, I think this speaks to Levi’s own humanity, that even though he knows certain situations and circumstances require violence to gain a favorable outcome for himself and those he cares about, he doesn’t attempt and doesn’t want for Jean to specifically learn that lesson or embrace violence or killing as a solution to every problem. Levi would rather have a world in which nobody ever had to kill at all.

I think this is further borne out in regards to the situation with Marlo and Hitch, and how Levi allows Jean to again choose for himself what his path is going to be, whether he’s going to become mercenary, or if he’s going to retain a more humanistic approach and avoid violence where he can.

Remember, Levi is going to let Marlo and Hitch go without harm, telling them he’ll leave them tied up and free to go once he and his squad clear out. But Jean intervenes and asks Levi if he can be allowed to deal with the two of them. This interaction between Levi and Jean is really important, I think, because it shows that Levi trusts in Jean to make the best decision for the situation. This is coming off of their earlier interaction when Levi told Jean he would have to choose for himself what he felt was right and wrong. Again, remember, Levi didn’t scold Jean for failing to kill, and didn’t attempt to guilt trip him over endangering their squad, either. He allowed Jean to maintain his sense of compassion without derision.

Marlo and Hitch don’t pose any physical threat to Levi or his squad at this point, and I think Levi’s initial decision to let them go without harm is also demonstrative of how Jean’s earlier assumption about Levi being a bad person for killing was wrong. Levi only kills when there’s absolutely no other option. He doesn’t kill indiscriminately or for any reason other than preservation of himself or others. Killing isn’t something Levi has grown desensitized to or unfeeling about. He isn’t a cold-blooded or ruthless killer or murderer. He only kills when a failure to do so will get him or others killed.

And so I think it speaks volumes that Levi agrees to let Jean “take care of” Marlo and Hitch. Jean’s wording here would seem to indicate that he’s planning on killing the two of them, but I’m certain that Levi understood in that moment that that wasn’t what Jean was doing or planning at all. He looks at Jean and tells him okay, and lets Jean take Marlo and Hitch off into the woods. I’m certain also that if Levi believed that Jean truly intended on killing Marlo and Hitch, he wouldn’t have allowed it.

Instead, I think Levi understood that Jean needed to test for himself whether his earlier hesitation to kill would always result in a bad outcome, or if there were truly moments when showing mercy and compassion could still work out to the benefit of both parties. If there was any hope for his moral beliefs to survive in a cruel world. And that’s exactly what Jean does. He trusts in his instinct that Marlo is genuine in his declaration of wanting to join the Survey Corps and fight for humanity, and allows himself to be put in a vulnerable position to test whether his instinct is true or false. It pays off for Jean, and for the rest of Levi’s squad, because Jean’s instinct was right and Marlo and Hitch are able to help lead them to the headquarters of the Miliary Police, and to then find out where it was Eren and Historia had been taken.

We see here a clear demonstration of how making a choice of compassion can and does lead to a positive outcome. And again and again we see the same, with Jean allowing his compassion to lead him even in circumstances which, on their face, would seem to require ruthlessness, only for those choices to work out and later bear beneficial fruit. Like Jean wanting to spare Reiner during the RtS arc and Reiner, of course, later becoming a key weapon for the alliance in their attempts to stop the Rumbling. And the same applies, also, to Jean seeming to intentionally miss his shot with the thunderspear against Pieck and Falco, allowing for both of them to, like Reiner, serve as key weapons for the alliance, and in Falco’s case, to become an integral part of their eventual victory.

All of this, as I already mentioned, is directly contrasted with Floch and his intentional murder of civilians during the raid on Liberio. Floch is what happens, what it looks like, when all sentiment is abandoned and we allow ourselves to be purely dictated by logic and cold calculation. It always ends in tragedy and devastation.

This is where I think people always make such a fundamental mistake in their interpretation of Levi’s choice to let Erwin die. People who say it was the wrong choice are looking at it from a perspective similar to the one Floch or Zeke holds, that is, this idea that everything, including human compassion, human connection and empathy, is expendable in the name of “the greater good”. Like Floch and Zeke, they think compassion is a weakness, and that abandoning ones humanity is a good thing. It shows how they’ve bought into the idea earlier presented that to defeat monsters, we must become monsters. And so, they call Levi’s decision “selfish” and “wrong” and say he “doomed humanity” because he wasn’t willing to let Erwin become the devil humanity supposedly needed to attain victory. But to say that requires them to also ignore all of the core themes of “Attack on Titan” itself and the message it tries to convey about the importance of retaining our humanity in the face of a cruel world. By their logic, one would suppose “AoT” is telling the reader/viewer that we have to abandon empathy and kindness in order to succeed and flourish. But of course that’s completely the opposite message that “AoT” tells us. It instead tells us that the only way humanity has any chance of surviving and breaking free of the cycle of hate and destruction it over and over seems to get caught in, is to hold on to our empathy, kindness and humanity. It shows why, through Levi and Jean particularly, and how their refusal to compromise on what they feel is right, their refusal to compromise their morality, is so important. How that empathy, kindness and humanity that they have is what actually makes us strong, what actually makes us better.

[sunniedesi]

In Defense of Future Diary...

TW: lots of yapping.

Making a small essay for Future Diary is something I’ve been meaning to do for a while. Since my entire blog is dedicated to the series, it only feels right to put something like this out into the ether. However, I’m never sure of the topics that I want to discuss the most. Do I write a defense for the show? My reasons for loving it so much? Its relevance and importance for anime culture? An analysis of Yuno’s character? There’s so much I feel you could say, but I never find the right words to express my feelings coherently. Today, I’ll make the attempt, though. I’ll go over all of the aforementioned questions here, mostly focusing on my personal opinions and feelings regarding the show. I don’t have much experience writing essays or analyses of media, so sorry in advance if my yapping is all over the place.

To begin, I should probably address the elephant in the room: Future Diary, despite its popularity and almost cult-classic status, has turned into a show people love to hate. You see it everywhere, when it comes to reviews, comments, opinion pieces, you name it, if it has Future Diary on the title, people will let you know all the gripes they have with the show. And while I tend to feel defensive or even saddened when I see so much hatred directed at my favorite show… I don’t necessarily blame anyone for feeling that way. I don’t want to be one of those people who pretends to hold the intellectual high-ground, acting as if everyone else is media-illiterate and I’m the one who truly gets the meaning of the series. At the end of the day, it’s just an anime, it’s not that deep. Everyone’s gonna like what they like; we all have different tastes and interests, so it’s only natural we all hold such different opinions about the show, especially given its campy, gory and almost edgy nature. Future Diary is definitely a product of early 2000’s trends, which some people (me lol) appreciate, and others certainly don’t.

That being said, while I respect people disliking the show for personal reasons, there are certain criticisms I see thrown its way that are not necessarily warranted. These issues can be boiled down to the following categories: “plot-holes,” a weak protagonist and toxic pairings. I’ll delve into all of these in a second, but I must say, the amount of times I’ve seen these specific points parroted over and over again makes me believe that many of the people making these arguments are piggybacking off of one another. It’s almost like they’re following a trend, repeating how the protagonist “sucks ass” and that the plot makes zero sense, without showing any examples as to how. 

It’s really common to find shallow arguments like those in comments sections and forums, but since I don’t want to feel like I’m barking up a tree in writing this essay, I decided to look for a source that encapsulated all of the common criticisms, while also backing them up with examples. Now, there are many good video essays out there on Future Diary, my personal favorite is by The Hot Box. But as far as critical pieces go, the one I found that goes the most in-depth is by the creator NezumiVA, titled: Mirai Nikki is Garbage, and Here’s Why. I’ll be referencing the video as I go along, but please note that while I disagree with many of this creator’s arguments, I don’t intend this to be a personal attack. As I said earlier, we’re all entitled to our different tastes and opinions, I can respect them disliking the series while having my own criticisms to give regarding the video. Just a little disclaimer so my intentions aren’t misconstrued here. 

With that out of the way, let’s take a deeper look into the main three arguments I mentioned before:

“The plot-holes eat up the show”

If you’ve been in the fandom for a while, you know that this is probably one of the most common criticisms levied towards Future Diary, and perhaps the one that holds the most weight. Or at least it would be, if it weren’t for the fact that “plot-holes” aren’t exactly the issue people are pointing at here. To explain, I believe people who dish out this claim all have different understandings of the definition of “plot-hole,” so to clarify: a plot-hole is an inconsistency, a contradiction in the narrative. For example, Yuno’s diary is all about Yukki, if she were to have diary entries not about him, that could be considered a plot-hole, as it contradicts the original narrative. A smaller detail being unexplained or overlooked for the sake of pacing is not a plot-hole. A flaw, yes, but as long as it doesn’t contradict what’s already been established in the story, it’s not a plot-hole. 

On one hand, it is true that there are certain Deus Ex Machina moments that aren’t properly explained in the show (heck, the god of this universe is called that for a reason), such as: how does 5th acquire all of his booby traps? Or where did 9th pull that motorcycle from? Why are characters so quick to forgive/forget certain events? These are smaller details that aren’t properly justified on-screen for the sake of pacing and making the show more interesting. You could possibly count this more as a case of poor characterization, particularly with 5th’s character having a lot of knowledge despite his age or Hinata quickly accepting the coin toss challenge despite having an advantage. Given the show only has 26 episodes, it’s only natural that detailed explanations for smaller details are omitted to make the show flow quicker and be more entertaining. While this may bother some people, I don’t find it to be such a big deal, or at least not a reason to dogpile on the show, when many other animes with shorter runtime fall victim to poor characterization as well. 

Many deem the plot nonsensical for missing these smaller explanations, but again, I find that exaggerated as they’re much, much trivial details that the majority of people don’t think of or focus on when watching the show. The video I referenced touches on the plot being illogical several times, not necessarily mentioning plot-holes per se, but complaining that many of the justifications behind certain plot points are unrealistic or contrived, though let’s be real here… since when is anime realistic? Future Diary, I would argue, does a good job of balancing very unrealistic scenarios with some realistic characters (like Yukki, but we’ll get into that later), which is what makes it interesting to watch. After all, what’s the fun in watching a fantasy show if it’s completely grounded in reality? Not to mention that many of the points brought up in the video aren’t contrived, especially if you were paying attention to the show. For example, the scene of Yuno meditating to figure out Reisuke’s plan. This wasn’t a Deus Ex Machina moment, it was foreshadowing of the fact she has her first-world memories locked away, and the meditation was her trying to access those memories. Same thing with Bacchus having an overpowered diary, it isn’t for the sake of it, he literally designed it to be that way, because he was the one who presented the idea of the diaries to Deus in the first place.

I’m getting a little side-tracked here, but you get the point. Ultimately, the worst sin a show can commit is being boring, and while Future Diary has its flaws in pacing and characterization, it contributes in keeping the viewers hooked to the action, packing its small run of 26 episodes with quite a bit of entertainment. Moreover, a lot of people overreact to these so-called “plot-holes”, yet they also fail to pay attention as to why things happen as they do in the show. Many of these criticisms can be summed up as either: trivial details that are omitted since they have little relevance to the plot and/or people not paying attention to what’s going on. 

Moving on, let’s tackle another very, very popular argument:

“Yukiteru is a total pushover (to put it nicely).” 

This is, without a doubt, the most common criticism I’ve seen people have of the show. I’m not sure if this is because people are used to the upbeat, overpowered protagonist trope in anime, but people don’t realize that Yukki being frustrating, awkward and terrified is an important part of the show’s storytelling, not to mention relatively unique. Very rarely do we see a realistic portrayal of a teenage protagonist in anime, and it is important for the show since it serves as a contrast to the other characters, all dark, callous and obsessed with the goal of becoming a God. Yukki is the only character not interested in any of this at the beginning. All he wanted was to escape reality with his phone and imaginary friends, and he's now thrusted into this terrible and hopeless situation. How exactly is a young boy expected to react under these circumstances? 

Teenagers are naive, dumb, selfish, all characteristics portrayed in Yukiteru, and these characteristics are put under scrutiny by every one of the diary owners, constantly telling him to grow a pair and stop using Yuno. This is easier said than done when you’re used to avoiding every little bit of responsibility in your life, and a girl who’s self-reportedly “crazy good at killing people” suddenly thrusts into your life ready to do all the work for you. Yukki is indeed a very flawed character, but that isn’t an accident, it is an intentional addition. It’s what makes him interesting; it pushes conflict into the show, and most importantly, drives home one of the main lessons of the show with Yukki’s development: fear doesn’t mean you’re not brave, it’s having that fear and pushing forward that makes you brave. A little corny, I know, but a valuable lesson for the Survival Game. 

Every character has an incentive for becoming God, and they’re utterly consumed by it to the point of insanity. Even a character like 4th, who was originally concerned with the goal of bringing order and justice rather than more carnage to the game gets carried away when a proper incentive for God’s seat comes into play: saving his son. In a Survival Game where we're surrounded by the most cunning and twisted of characters, killers, terrorists, people in corrupt positions of power, Yukki stands out like a sore thumb for retaining his humanity throughout it all, unwilling to get his hands dirty, rather willing to see hope in everyone else. It comes across as naive and all-too trusting. This is especially true for his father, but considering how little people he has to rely on, plus his childish hopes of seeing his family back together, his forgiveness towards him makes sense. And the same can be said for Yuno, the one constant he’s got all throughout the game. Despite the abuse and manipulation, she’s ultimately got his best interests at heart, but I’m getting ahead of myself with this point.

Eventually, the circumstances that Yukki goes through (namely his parents’ death) put that humanity, kindness and mercy, the staples of his personality, to test. It’s a testament to how desperate situations can corrupt even the most innocent of individuals. Yukiteru goes from a hopeful individual to a callous killer, no different from Yuno and equally as selfish. Similarly enough, we know thanks to her third-world-self that Yuno was originally a normal, happy girl with the hopes of finally having a loving family taking care of her. All of this, to then be tortured by the people who were supposed to bring that peaceful family life to her. 

Yukki being a weakling may be frustrating to some, it is certainly brought up many times during the video essay, but it’s an important factor that drives the plot and many of Future Diary’s lessons about growth and accountability. Besides, the anime certainly wouldn’t be as interesting to watch if every character was just an OP know-it-all like Akise. Which no hate to him, but the show wouldn’t be the same if every character were like him.

And speaking of Akise, I’ll take the opportunity to mention a point in the video essay that bothered me a bit. The creator says the show is “queerbaiting” with his character, because Akise’s attraction towards Yukki is forced, but I don’t see exactly how this is queerbaiting. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t queerbaiting when a character is insinuated to be gay, yet it’s kept ambiguous enough to never address it? The show straight-up explains the reason behind Akise’s attraction to Yukki. His love is forced because it was created by Deus to further his investigation about Yukki and Yuno. Akise himself is a fabrication of Deus. It is literally explained in episode 23. You can’t bait the audience into believing a character is gay if you explicitly tell the audience the character is gay lol.

But that’s one of the smaller issues I had with the video’s criticisms. My biggest gripes were actually the following: at the beginning of the essay, this creator talks about how many of the plot points in the show are contrived and illogical, but at the same time, they dislike the characters having tragic backstories that explain how they went on to become twisted individuals. Isn’t it a little contradictory that you complain about a character acting unnatural, yet when the explanation for their behavior comes up, you completely disregard it? They go as far as to say Esuno hates women and is misogynistic for his portrayal of female psychosis, and the use of SA as a tragic backstory being distasteful. Because, according to this creator, people who have been victimized never go on to become terrible people themselves, and that this is a “problematic stereotype.” 

To say that this worldview is incredibly simplistic and naive is putting it mildly. Being a victim doesn’t exempt you from the capability of hurting others, and in fact, the opposite is often true. Hurt people hurt people, that is another main theme in Future Diary, and one of the things I love about it so much. It doesn’t make its characters victims of terrible situations for the sake of pitying them, but to portray their natural descent into madness from being corrupted by a cruel and unrelenting world. Yuno, Yukki, Minene, Tsubaki, these characters all started out as normal until life turned them into the nihilistic monsters they became. They’re morally gray, an example of what you can become when your ethics and moral worldview is tested by society so many times, it ultimately turns you into a societal outcast. Which only makes it funnier that one of the questions asked in the video is “are we supposed to like these characters?” Yes and no, that’s the fun of writing morally gray characters.

I often see these takes with people who fail to understand that the portrayal of something in media ≠ endorsement. It’s the crux of people who lack media literacy, the failure to understand morally gray or just straight up evil characters as protagonists. The media itself isn’t telling you to repeat their actions, it is an exploration of how these actions manifest in the first place, a cautionary tale, if you will. I know that having evil or twisted protagonists isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to accuse the story or the author of malicious intent would be completely missing the point of the story’s purpose. Not to mention, that it is important for stories like this to exist, to put us in the shoes of those who enact harm, to understand why they do it and keep us from becoming like them.

The show doesn’t justify any of their actions, in fact, it often shows them for what they are: twisted and morally corrupt; it is on the characters themselves to bear the burdens of these actions. A clear example of this is the confrontation that Yukki has with his friends nearing the end of episode 22. It is probably one of my favorite scenes in the entire show: Yukki being forced to face all of his demons at once, realizing just how much damage he has caused, damage that he later has to mend in his final confrontation with Yuno to finally put an end to everyone’s suffering. It is dense, crude, and it is certainly necessary for both him and Yuno. 

Funnily enough, this youtuber goes on to say the following about Yuno’s background: “I really don’t care what her (back)story pans out to look like… her actions are still not excusable.” Which is true, just because someone was abused doesn’t justify them perpetuating the same abuse later. However, they then crush their own point by claiming that Yuno’s obsessions started all because of “a passing conversation.” I guess they weren’t lying when they said that they didn’t care about Yuno’s backstory… because chalking up her obsession as solely a result of that scene is completely disregarding her background. That conversation in the classroom did start Yuno’s fixation towards Yukki, but it is not the root of her obsessive tendencies. Yuno herself believes it to be, but this is an idea that is squandered by Yukki in his final confrontations with her. Moreover, if you paid attention to her backstory, you would understand it is all due to her childhood neglect. And similarly, Yukki’s attraction towards Yuno stems from this as well.

This brings me to the final criticism:

“Yuno and Yukki’s relationship is problematic, toxic and makes no sense.”

There is no denying that Yuno and Yukki start out as an incredibly toxic and troublesome pairing, using each other for their own selfish wants instead of working with each other. This is the Achilles heel in their dynamic, and it is often the cause of their troubles. Yuno acts impulsive, unstable and manipulative towards Yukki due to her insecurities and debilitating obsession, while Yukki pushes all responsibility to Yuno due to his own lack of a spine. They hurt each time and time again, yet they can’t help but be with each other. And this is because, in a twisted way, they compliment each other. 

On one hand, we have a social outcast, ignored by everyone including his family, visibly alone and afraid of being hurt by others, but still seeing the best in people. Then on the other hand, we have a popular girl from a prominent family, visibly perfect, but in reality just as alone due to abuse she experiences at home, making her view people as fundamentally cruel. On the outside they’re opposites, but deep down, they’re both lonely, and terrified of said loneliness. It is only when they meet, when Yukki shows her the kindness she was missing for years and when Yuno gives him the support he had always craved, that they fulfill each other’s needs. By becoming acquainted with Yuno and the Survival Game, Yukki becomes increasingly darker, eventually maturing at the end of the show, while Yukki awakens Yuno’s empathy and pulls her back from the darkness, as we see when she falters to hurt third-world Yuno and her parents. 

Their complementary personalities are even referenced by their diaries, which only work seamlessly if paired. They balance each other out perfectly, bringing out the best of each other, but only after learning to push back on their worst characteristics, which is also true for real-life relationships. In truth, just like these two, people are flawed, traumatized and generally toxic to one another. There’s no such thing as people or relationships that start out perfect from the get-go, they need to learn to grow together. 

In that sense, this is what makes the ending of the show so powerful to me. Yukki isn’t set on killing Yuno or becoming God anymore. He’s finally taking responsibility, coming to terms with the awful deeds he’s done, and the fact that he can’t undo them. Instead, he wants to help Yuno come to terms with her own demons, finally giving back to her what she needs and not something for his own benefit. Similarly, Yuno realizes just how off the deep-end she’s gone when she meets her past self, acknowledging that she’s lost her original goal, and that repeating the cycle of hurt won’t fix her already broken spirit. That world isn’t for her, and so she finally ends the hurt, giving her and Yukki the peace they need. 

Many people don’t like Redial because they see it as an undeserved Happy Ending for two awful individuals, but the way I like to see it is as a form of redemption. Both characters, in the end, do what they have to do to restore order in the world. Yukki pays for his sins in the void, finally a God but at the cost of mourning what could’ve been. First-World Yuno ends the suffering she’s putting herself through so her new self can thrive, almost akin to breaking free from her past traumas to finally heal. The new self regains those memories, not to sulk, but to build from them, going back with Yukki to start a new world that isn’t characterized by their original hurt. In a way, it's a story about how the most downtrodden of individuals can find solace in love, break from their past and learn to heal together. For me, it’s cathartic and fulfilling to watch.

To finish this lengthy post, I feel it’s appropriate to mention the importance of Future Diary’s characters, and more specifically, Yuno. The video describes her writing as shallow and contrived, but I’ve already addressed that in the previous paragraphs. Many people love chalking her up to “cRaZy YaNdErE gUrL™ 🤪​,” but she’s so, so much more than that. Her character actually has a lot of depth if you pay attention to her story: she’s a girl, an orphan who went on to be neglected by her foster father and abused by her foster mother, resulting in complex trauma, insecurities and fear of abandonment that she tries to hide and overcompensate for in her overly aggressive tendencies. Her obsession in avoiding the loss of the only person she has becomes her demise, as she lives in a loop of torment all for the sake of not being alone again, a cycle of hurt only she has the power of breaking if she finds the strength to do it. Whether it was intentional or not, Yuno portrays a lot of the issues people with mental illness, such as BPD, struggle with. 

Now, claiming that Yuno is a perfect, one-to-one representation of BPD would be reducing this disorder to a caricature, there’s obviously so much more to BPD than what you see in this portrayal. But, I feel like out of the huge list of characters that fall under the “yandere” or crazy girl trope, she’s probably one of the best written ones in anime. I know she’s often dubbed the “yandere queen,” but seriously, it’s rare to see media committing to this trope and properly characterizing it. I would go as far as to say she’s the best character I’ve seen written in this genre, only sharing that spot with another character from a certain game (but given that the mere mention of its name is enough to ensue controversy, I’ll abstain from talking about it here 🙄​). A big portion of characters within this trope are quite two-dimensional, without clear motives for their obsessions, or having their issues played up for laughs (I’m looking at you, Anna Nishikinomiya). Heck, many of the characters associated with the trope aren’t actual yanderes, like is the case for Shion Sonozaki or Lucy from Elfen Lied. 

Yuno’s character is rich and interesting to watch, she isn’t just some “crazy girl” for the sake of it. She’s a product of tragedy, only motivated by the hope of finally having Yukki alleviate all of her insecurities and sorrows. I’ve always found the “yandere” trope interesting since it delves into the lengths people are capable of going over an obsession, and how these form to begin with. Given how complex, sensitive and even personal this topic can be, it’s important to have characters like this be properly written, and I’m glad that Yuno set a standard for this back in her day, even if many people don’t take her character seriously. 

I think it’s important to close up this post repeating the sentiment I had at the beginning. My purpose in writing this defense isn’t so much to force people into liking the show, and even opinions I disagree with like the ones in NezumiVA’s video are valid in their own right, as everyone has different perspectives in interpreting media. This is simply my take as someone who’s been a fan of the show for a really long time, since I don’t see many in-depth essays for Future Diary out there. It is a show that has stuck with me for its lessons on learning to be brave, healing from the past and selfless love. As silly as it may sound talking about an anime, it’s something that I can always look back to and smile, laugh or cry along with. Despite people’s conflicting views and endless criticisms, it will never fail to have a special place in my heart. Given how much time I’ve dedicated to this series, it’s only fair I dedicated a little bit of that time explaining my love for it too. And if you made it this far down the post, I would also like to thank you for dedicating a little bit of your time to my shower thoughts as well!