#i dream in greek. it is painful. i wake up in tears | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gatheringfiki · 2 years ago

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The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb based on this photoset.

FiKi, Teen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Seeing Shadows

It was raining on Tintagel when Fili was born. He came into the world amid blood and pain. Not just his mother’s; there was a battle taking place outside the walls of the castle. The green grass was slick with red blood that looked black under the clouds and rain. He was born with a father eagerly awaiting his arrival, but less than 12 hours after his birth he would be down one parent and he would lose the other before he reached his second birthday.

Felix, a name from their Roman conquerors and one that meant lucky, but his life was destined to be frought with ill-luck and bad winds of the worst sort.

Gandalf foresaw as much prior to his birth.

Despite that knowledge Fili’s mother hoped for better, for something different. Because the future is never set until it has become the past.

—o—

Fili!

Fili giggled and dashed further into the tall grass. The sun was warm and the grass was tall. His pursuer could only see him from the glint of sun on his golden hair.

Where are you going?

Fili ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He would have run faster if he had not kept looking over his shoulder to see how close he was to being caught. So he did not see the root. He did not see the kitten. He only felt them as he tripped and fell. He scraped his palms. Tears stung his eyes as he rubbed his hands on the coarse fabric of his tunic. Little bits of gravel and dirt were embedded under his skin.

Fili?

Then Bilbo was there. Holding Fili’s hands, wiping away that blood, and deftly freeing the bits of stone from Fili’s skin.

I know it hurts. But it won’t hurt for long. We’ll use some soap to clean them when we get home.

Fili nodded. The tears were already drying on his cheeks.

Oh!

He scooped up the orange kitten before Bilbo could say anything. His face crumpled when he saw that one of the cat’s twig thin legs was twisted. Fili’s lower lip trembled when he spoke.

I think I fell on her…

Gently. Don’t hold her too tight. Let me…

Bilbo examined the kitten’s leg with the same tenderness that he had used on Fili’s hands.

We might be able to help her. But she won’t be able to feed herself or clean her—

I’ll do it!

It’s something that takes time each day. You cannot just stop doing it after a single day. And even once she’s better she’ll need to be cared for if you want to keep her.

Fili nodded his head, blonde hair flopping into his eyes.

—o—

Kili was screaming when he woke up.

It was the same nightmare that he always had. Parts of it were different, but it always ended the same way.

It’s just a dream, his mother soothed him. Dreams aren’t real.

Kili lay back down and let her smooth his hair back from his forehead. He nodded in agreement and understanding. He curled in close beneath the furs surrounded by the body heat of his mother, father, and siblings.

But he knew that she was wrong.

Dreams could be real.

—o—

Are you paying attention?

Fili’s head snapped up. He was stroking the cat in his lap gently. He had named the kitten Minerva. She had grown up with only a slight limp to show for her injury early in life. Fili dragged her everywhere with him. Now she was five years old and she was more than content to lay on his lap during her few waking daylight hours.

Of course!

Decline the Latin for “I love.”

No one speaks Latin anymore!

The Romans are not here anymore, but there are still plenty of people in Brittany and further south and east that use it.

I thought the Byzantines used Greek.

Bilbo chidded him, Decline “I love.”

Fili rolled his eyes with a groan dropping his head back against the earthen wall of Bilbo’s house. Amo, amas, amat, amamus , amatis, amant.

Good. Now…

—o—

Kili stared at the man with long gray hair and beard that was sitting by his parents’ fire.

He had seen this man before in one of those dreams that “weren’t real.”

He did not dare tell his mother. She was already looking at him with a level of wariness and fear that made him uncomfortable. He had known that his brother was going to break his arm before it had happened. He told them about the flood before clouds had even darkened the sky. They had been skeptical, but they had moved their goats to higher ground. Then the rain came. And it kept falling. And the Avon overflowed its banks. Lives and homes were lost.

That was the first time that his family had looked at him with guarded expressions.

I will train him.

Kili’s father scoffed, In what? Magic?

If that’s what he has, yes.

Kili looked at his mother. Her lips formed a thin tight line.

Magic?

Kili looked at the man harder and tried to see anything magical about him. His clothes were a nondescript gray. And despite his gray hair he did not appear to be that much older than Kili’s father. Later, under the sun, Kili would notice the brown and red strands that were still present among the silver hairs. The only thing that seemed remarkable was the sword that was visible beneath the gray cloak.

Why would a wizard need a sword?

—o—

Again. Thorin barked orders at Fili.

The wooden sword was heavy in Fili’s hands. His shoulders ached, but he raised the wooden sword, hilt worn smooth from hundreds of hands, and swung it again.

You’re aiming at the target again. You should be aiming through and past.

But there is a target there. Fili protested. Am I just supposed to pretend that there’s not?

Thorin smoothed back his hair that was starting to gray at the temples with one hand. Yes and no.

Fili groaned and tossed the sword to the ground in frustration.

Think of it this way, Thorin bent to pick up the wooden sword. He casually flipped it in one hand. If you aim at a thing then you're not pulling the sword through. You’re stopping. Like so. He demonstrated without the target in front of him.

But you still hit them.

Yes. But they’ll be more hurt if you follow through. If you swing through the target you’ll have more power to the cut and you’ll do more damage. Does that make sense? Thorin handed the sword back.

Yes. But it still does not tell me why I need to learn this at all.

Thorin looked at Dwalin then who stood in the shadow of the stone wall. Gandalf had told them not to tell. They had all agreed to keep Fili’s parentage a secret. As far as Fili knew he was Bilbo’s nephew, of which Bilbo had many.

Fili looked at Dwalin as well. He tried to decipher the silent conversation that Thorin and Dwalin were having. Thorin scowled. Dwalin shrugged. Thorin raised an eyebrow and returned the shrug.

No skin off my nose if you tell him, Dwalin rumbled.

Tell me what?

What do you think he’ll do? Thorin asked, ignoring Fili’s question.

Dwalin shrugged again. You know as well as I do what Gandalf is capable of and what he might do.

Meaning he might do anything, Thorin grumbled.

Fili gripped the hilt of the sword tightly. He looked from one man to the other.

Thorin sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. We might as well take a break and eat if we’re going to tell him. He’ll have plenty of questions.

—o—

What happens in the vision? Gandalf demanded.

Kili squirmed in his cross legged sitting position. He had been learning how to have visions when he was awake rather than just asleep. They still bowled him over and left him shaky and uncertain how much time had passed. One time it had been early morning and the next moment that he was aware of it was dark and the fire Gandalf had lit had burned low.

Bad things.

What bad things?

Kili shook his head.

I’ve had these visions too, Kili. I know most of what you saw, but you must share your visions with me. Together we might see a path forward that neither of us would see alone.

Kili pulled his legs tighter to his body and fidgeted with the hem of his braccae.

Are you there?

Kili shook his head. No. I’m not. I’m on an island I think. And I’m a lot older. I have a beard. He touched his chin. And tattoos like yours. And many rings.

Gandalf nodded.

There’s a battle. It’s in a valley and—

Who’s fighting? What banners did you See?

I don’t know…

Try to see those next time. Every little detail can matter.

Okay, Kili nodded.

—o—

The battle is in a valley between two large hills that have snow on their peaks. It’s cloudy. But there are fires that melt the snow in the valley. There is smoke. That makes it hard to see. Kili rubbed his eyes as if the smoke was still burning them. There are many different banners, but most of them belong to two different types. There is a red dragon on a white field. That one is often paired with three golden crowns on a blue field. They seem to be fighting against men carrying a black flag bearing a silver shield inscribed with a black two headed eagle.

Which side is winning?

The one carrying the eagle banner.

How do you know?

They are pushing back the other fighters. It almost seems like the side with the dragon are giving up. There is a spot where they are pushing forward. That is where the fighting is the fiercest. It all centers around a knight who is wearing a blue surcoat decorated with three crowns. At his side is a man carrying a shield with a five pointed star. They’re fighting well and hard, but they are only really managing to keep their ground. Sometimes they gain a foot only to lose it again.

And this is how you’ve seen it before?

Yes. Sometimes he’s wearing a different surcoat, one of white with the red dragon, but he’s always in the center of the fight, with that knight at his side.

What happens then?

The knight in the blue coat falls. A knight dressed in black has pierced his side with a lance. Sometimes he uses a strange curving dagger, but the knight in black always stabs the knight in blue. Everyone rallies around the fallen knight. He is dragged back through his own army by the man wearing the star. They do not stop when they are free of the fighting. They get on a horse and they go to the sea. Sometimes a boat appears, sometimes it does not, but the knight always dies. The knight with the star always screams in grief and clutches the body of his friend.

And what about you? You said you were on an island.

I was. But once the knight dies I am drowning.

—o—

Fili stared at the sword that was embedded in the large rock.

No one can get it out.

It was put there by Gandalf.

The devil is more like.

I don't even think it’s real. I think the sword ends at the rock.

Everyone around him was talking about the stone. But their voices fade to a hum, like the buzz of a fly that will not leave you alone, annoying, but not the end of the world.

They were all gathered together for the choosing of a new king. There had been civil war for seven of the nineteen years since King Uther had died. Everyone was dressed in their livery and standing in clusters, refusing to mix with people serving other lords. Fili was not even supposed to be there, but Thorin’s squire had fallen ill at the last minute leaving him with the option of taking Fili as his squire, or traveling alone. And Thorin planned on participating in the tournament that was meant to serve as a distraction and a consolation for those who could not draw the sword for the stone, so he needed someone to help him put his armor on.

Fili! What are you doing!

Fili startled, but he did not stop. His fingers wrapped around the warm leather hilt of the sword. He would later swear in private with a close friend that he felt a rush of power tingle up his arm and into his face. He was scared. But at that moment he just drew the sword. It slid from the stone as easily as if it was coming from a well-oiled scabbard.

Fili stared at the shimmering blade in awe.

—o—

Did you put the sword in the stone?

Of course not! It has been there for generations. Do you really think that I am that old?

Yes.

Cheeky bastard, Gandalf grumbled.

Who did it then?

Who did what now?

Who put the sword in the stone?

Oh. That would be Galadriel.

Who’s she?

Don’t you listen during your lessons? Fool-headed child.

Kili stopped asking questions then. Instead he watched Gandalf’s hands as he cast some complex spell that he refused to explain to Kili. The silver rings on his fingers flashed in the firelight. Dark lines swirled on his skin to disappear beneath the rings and under his clothes.

Kili had a few tattoos of his own now. He was first marked when he first called a vision on command. That one was a simple thin band of black around his right ring finger. The others had come afterwards. At first he could tell you in what order he received them and why he had received them. But now they have all blurred together. He had been angry when he had asked Gandalf about his and Gandalf replied with, I don’t remember. Kili thought he was being purposely difficult. He knows better now.

Kili sat back, the stone wall of the castle cool against his back, and stretched his mind, seeking, searching…

—o—

We can still leave, Bilbo said quietly.

I’m not leaving. What would they say about me then?

Can’t be worse than what they are saying about you now, Thorin growled.

Dwalin nodded his agreement. They were all crowded into the covered cloister. The garden was lush and green. The monks had clearly been tending it carefully. A black robed priest had hurried them into the cloister and away from the public eye.

What about the sword?

We’ll just put the damn thing back. Dwalin pushed off the wall of the fieldstone wall of the church.

And what about the people?

Damn the people.

Fili shook his head. I can’t do that. The stone answered to me.

More like the Devil trying to trap you.

Fili sighed and looked out the narrow window. He would rather be there, in the dry grass fields with the muted scent of earth, grass, and flowers than here in this carefully tended garden. The monks clearly hauled water from a well or from the river to feed the flowers. It was meant to be a sanctuary for the clergy away from the laity. He already wanted to escape everything already and the council meetings once he is crowned will only be worse and he knows that. What would I do if I left?

What you were going to do before the damn sword, Dwalin snapped.

Was there really ever a ‘before’? Fili turned to look at them. When you told me about Uther it already sounded like I was expected to do this someday. If not because of the sword then for some other reason.

It was meant to be your choice, Bilbo answered.

And this wasn’t my choice?

Did you know the sword was going to come out at your touch? Did you do it from a real desire to be king? Or were you just trying it because everyone else was?

Fili turned back to the narrow window. It certainly wasn’t the first two, he replied.

Then you didn’t really choose this.

Fili settled his shoulders and turned away from the outside, from where he would rather be, But I’m going to do this.

—o—

Are you sure that we won’t burst into flames when we try to walk through the door? Kili asked half seriously.

Gandalf stopped walking and scowled, bushy eyebrows sticking out, There will be no ‘try’, Kili. We will be going through those doors. And of course we won’t burst into flames.

But… Kili gestured to his clothes and Gandalfs, We’re what they call pagans.

And?

Kili shrugged. I suppose that would mean that we wouldn’t be allowed in.

Gandalf turned and started walking towards the gray behemoth of the church. I really don’t think their god cares about such things as magic or people who don’t believe in him. He never has cared in my experience.

In your experience? Kili darted after Gandalf. But Gandalf did not answer.

They did not use the main entrance on the west end of the church. Instead they used a small door on the southern side. Kili had been expecting to see what he presumed with a towering interior, but instead was met with a cramped room with very little light.

You’re here then, The priest looked up from where he was adjusting his vestments. I suppose it was too much to hope that you’d be late, have forgotten, or just decided not to come.

Oh, do cheer up, Gandalf chastised. He shed his gray cloak revealing the white robes beneath and leaned his staff in the corner. It’s not like I’m going to hex you. Again.

Kili’s gaze darted from one man to the other. Again? They both ignored him.

Trickery and devilry.

It was magic, Ulric. You can say the word magic without bursting into flames. I had one of your fellow Crows try it, just to make sure.

Ulric frowned. As I said—Devilry.

Without my devilry your church still wouldn’t have a roof.

Ulric grunted and changed the subject. I see you brought a miniature version of yourself to assist you in your mischief.

I think you call them acolytes. Kili is my acolyte.

When Ulric did not respond Gandalf asked, Would you like to do your bit first?

Since my ‘bit’ is the only part that matters… Yes.

Ready?

Ulric nodded.

Kili?

Kili nodded tightly.

Ulric ushered Kili and Gandalf out the door. When they left the sacristy the priest locked the door behind them.

—o—

Fili did his best to ignore the crowd standing at his back. The cathedral was packed from wall to wall and down the entire length of the nave.

Just breathe, Thorin instructed and Fili forced himself to take a deep breath.

He kept his eyes fixed on the large crucifix hanging from a heavy wooden ceiling beam. He had asked why he had to be crowned in a Christian church when he was not a Christian. It had not really been explained to him, but the old wizard made it clear that it would be happening if Fili wanted to hold the throne because if he was to rule both Christians and those who still worshiped the old gods then he would have to be acknowledged by both institutions.

There was the sound of a door closing. Fili dragged his eyes away from the cross to see … not the bishop that he had been expecting. Instead he saw a tall young man, probably his own age, maybe a little younger, with wild dark hair. He was dressed in black clothes bearing traces of silver embroidery; a silver necklace's mirrored surface flashed light into Fili’s eyes. His hands were adorned with rings and dark lines, made with coal? More lines flickered behind the collar of the young man’s shirt. His dark eyes met Fili’s and Fili saw that the man was as nervous as Fili was.

Behind him was the old wizard Gandalf.

And then, finally, the bishop. His vestments were white with a purple and gold chasuble. His pectoral cross and ring were golden and quite large. They commanded attention in the way that the silver jewelry worn by Gandalf and the other man did not.

Fili forced himself to breathe. Only then did he notice that music was playing. When had that started?

—o—

Kili stopped walking at Gandalf’s command. He stood one step lower than Gandalf and to his left. He did not miss the fact that the bishop had positioned himself one step higher than Gandalf, but even with that added height he was still shorter than the wizard.

We are gathered here today…

The bishop started speaking. And Kili stopped listening, but he did catch the tones of discontent, something about the coronation being rushed and things not being as they should be. It looked elaborate enough. Kili watched Gandalf out of the corner of his eye; waiting for a signal.

The boy being crowned king was younger than Kili had expected. Beardless, young, and shorter than those that stood behind him, Kili assumed they were his advisers and closest supporters (doubling as bodyguards, presumably).

He had expected something more.

More of what? He was not sure exactly.

But he had drawn the sword from the stone. Gandalf had not explained how that magic had worked, only that someone pure of heart, with pure intentions could do it. He’s probably the most boring person to ever exist then, Kili had replied, to Gandalf’s amusement.

The crowd beyond him was hazy with the heavy smoke of incense, the scent settling on and filling Kili’s senses, and candles. The windows were small and placed high in the walls.

This boy—soon-to-be King, Kili reminded himself—was watching the proceedings with a steady gaze. It was the twitch of his fingers, tapping out a rhythm against his thigh, that gave him away.

The signal interrupted Kili’s musings; he would have plenty of time later to consider what was making the king-to-be nervous.

Kili nodded to a young courtier who proffered a purple velvet pillow. On the pillow rested a dark crown in the shape of stag’s horns. Kili’s fingers turned the tufts of fabric as they grazed the pillow, leaving trails in his wake.

His knees nearly buckled when he touched the crown. The visions came hard and fast, many different moments all at once.

Kili’s hands lifting the crown from that golden head in a different space. A dark stone room lit by candles and populated by only two people.

Kili carefully disentangling golden strands of hair from the tines of the crown.

The crown being hastily tossed aside for a press of flesh and warmth.

Settling the crown on the king’s head, the same king standing before him now, but older.

Carefully securing the crown to a helmet with trembling fingers.

The crown falling to the ground to be trampled in mud made from blood.

The …

Gandalf’s hand on Kili’s shoulder brought a halt to the visions.

Kili’s hands shook as he carefully placed the crown in Gandalf’s waiting hands.

—o—

Fili saw the widening of the young man’s eyes as they unfocused, staring into something that Fili could not see.

—o—

The priest spoke at length. He anointed the new king’s head with a rich, thick smelling oil. The king agreed to do whatever it was that the priest asked him to do and then the crown was placed upon his head.

Rise, King Felix, son of Uther Pendragon.

Felix Pendragon.

Kili could feel a few more things in his head clicking into place with the realization of who this new king was.

—o—

The full moon was bright enough that it blurred out any stars that would normally appear in that part of the sky. The rest twinkled merrily except for the couple of bright points that did not twinkle. Instead, those points burned steadily as they made their way across the sky. The bright moon and the lack of clouds meant that Kili could see everything in the stone circle clearly. It was a recumbent stone circle. Thick pines with their sentinel-esque trunks crowded close on the north side where they marched up the gentle slope. To the south the moonlight created pockets of darkness in the expansive view. Each dry hillock or bunch of purple heather or yellow grose made the landscape new and mysterious in the monotone light.

Kili checked his pocket for the vials of ash, salt, and oil to symbolize fire, earth, and air.

There was a cool breeze, but after the warmth of the day it was a welcome change.

The uprights were arranged in a loose circle around the massive recumbent slab of sarsen. A tall upright stood at either end of it. They stood taller than those of the perimeter circle. Kili leaned against the sarsen stone, which was still warm from the day. The large stone was incised with spiraling designs. In many places they were filled in with a blue-green lichen that Kili picked away as he waited. The other stones were plain to contrast with this, the most important stone. The circle was set apart from the surrounding hilltop with a ring cairn that alternated between red and white stones, but, in the darkness, they looked to be gray and white.

Gandalf’s staff pushing aside the foliage alerted Kili to their presence before they arrived.It was just to be the two of them and Fili.

The stag horn crown was tipped and askew when Fili stumbled into the stone circle.

Is it just us?

At the same time Gandalf and Kili looked to the sky.

We are the only witnesses, Gandalf replied. An answer which did little to answer Fili’s question by the look on his face. Fili looked around the circle at the gray and black landscape before putting forth another question.

What is this place?

Don’t you know about the stone circles? Kili’s question thick with disbelief is through his lips before he can even think of stopping it.

Should I?

They’re just… they are… Kili looked to Gandalf for help, his mind having gone blank with surprise.

The stone circles mark places where the fabric between worlds has grown thin.

Thin? Fili looked over his shoulder as if expecting a monster to leap forth.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, Gandalf assured him. The other worlds hold nothing that you need to fear.

He continued, In places like this our magic is stronger. The further we are from these points the weaker our spells will be.

So magic comes from those other worlds?

Gandalf does not answer. Because these are where we are our strongest it is where your real coronation should take place.

I don’t have to pass through into one of those other worlds, do I? Fili asked nervously.

Gandalf looked over his shoulder to look at Kili with an expression that said volumes. Clearly Fili’s education was lacking in this department. It would be Kili’s job to correct that as soon as possible.

Do you have the items?

Kili nodded and handed over the small glass vials.

You stand here. Kili pointed to a spot on the northwestern side of the stone. Put your crown on the stone, in the center. And then keep both of your hands on the stone.

Kili did not miss the tremor in Fili’s hands as he placed the dark bronze crown in the slight depression. Fili bent close to inspect the same designs that Kili had been tracing only minutes before.

Take off your tunic, Gandalf ordered.

Fili hesitated, but pulled the light tunic over his head. The motion flipped his curls in different directions. His shoulders shuddered in a shiver.

Gandalf’s words rumble through the stones and reverberate through their bones.

Kili felt the words more than he could hear them.

Fili dropped his head forward, shoulders around his ears. His exhale was visible through the sagging of his chest.

The moon seemed brighter and closer, but the shadows deepened, spread, and reached out with dark fingers.

Gandalf spilled the contents of the vial into his hands. He rubbed his hands together, spreading the oil, salt, and ash together.

His voice deepened. Kili’s legs quaked. Fili fell to his knees, but his hands stayed firmly planted on the stone, his fingertips digging into the stone, lichen beneath his fingernails.

Gandalf’s words became a chant and he smeared the mixture on Fili’s face from his forehead, across his cheekbones, and over his lips. The dark streaks of ash are thickest at his brow and thin out as they continue down his face and following Gandalf’s hands onto Fili’s shoulders, down his arms, and onto the stone, ending at the bronze crown. Gray smudges marred its shiny surface.

Gandalf grabbed Fili’s hands and nodded for Kili to place his own hands over both of theirs. Together they wrapped Fili’s stiff and shaking fingers around the crown and guided them to place the crown on Fili’s head.

Gandalf stopped chanting then. But it took several long moments for his words to fade as they sank into the stones, the earth, and their bones. And then all that was left was the shaky sick feeling in the pit of Kili’s stomach and the weakness in his limbs.

They pulled their hands away from Fili’s and lowered them slowly.

It is done, Gandalf said.

The grains of salt sparkled in the oil on Fili’s skin. He started to rise, but stumbled. Kili caught him by the arm.

I think I’m going to be sick, Fili groaned.

Deep breathes, Kili coached. The first time with magic can do that. It does get better. But that was something very powerful. I don’t feel so well myself.

Fili bent double with his hands on his knees, head hanging as he took deep, slow breaths.

Kili turned to ask Gandalf a question.

But the stone circle was empty except for the two of them. The oil on the recumbent stone glistened wetly. It seemed to Kili that the moon had been trapped in the oil, trapped on Fili’s skin.

#Gathering 12 Days 2022 #FiKi #Fili/Kili #Durincest #The Hobbit

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

Text

Untitled (“From which the views remoue”)

A curtal sonnet sequence

From which the views remoue. Arrow flew; tis as the tertian ague in the woe of whom the hour was turn’d him, some heat of humanity— must make this occurs but death, and break the tempest-tops, and the changed the palate institutions; and your poets, so resplendour. In vision fleeting, even when coffin’d at the heau’nly folly and pain for Juan wept, and on her e’e? Shall a summer’s great pitty? Like the honest Arab horse ill.

The full length, in which the air is complain. So sad as yet; at length it bore; thoughts of frailties, all my guiltless, and lying onto the rude wave’s high hill, without this infliction, when death; that light guid will, my mother, I am old? Each eyes, and scrappy: we have I see a winter wind, they which, labour is done! And them gold must I stand: but how and here is as the ship was evidentially for so faire triumpher of Ismail.

III

Farewell, another by to come banish, simple truths divided with my boy feel.— Perhaps he leap’d. The koi kiss a heaven knows my loue, all must go, to sing my Highland lassie, kind effort she toll alas, theirs more robust and at first participate their proved every friends, where shall be reader in your way through thou love known, we are not so true love you. For groan, and yet the memories of fragrance of many: sodae sulphat.

With a noted weed, the song offence? Her in die capiendus. Angels lay: and died, brighter leucadia’s royalty of brow was offer’d Infidels in one thou for my love, before, dear admiring through puddle; hurrah! And ev’ry day helpless, icily regular, splendour. For Natures speaking, her small without her housetop loneliness. They still beseech thee devil box out of doors have love to my bow, leaving now?

Which all kind, virtue wore, and Paradoxical, clever, I forget that makes me anyhow our often all till noble, flutters are seas, those deluded human stave off his adjunct pleasures hold; but they saw a bay, that have seen? No plants and portions to themselves in this infliction bore his valet’s like the Spanish, simpler must I roll, and swells with the two sons, of fingers of any single cord, but then tell you this?

And all the eyes like an end; and dearest; which the iawes of summer or two from his holy water. The outlanders my weariness of the whisp’ring learn’d suffering me, doth such a lovers, too, are amatory banquet of doors, and I strain, thy love and graft my loving, longings of sunshine owne woe; those what is a bore, as you to my hearts might not great city. What is, if I be dead. Tell the world’s eldest dear to her.

VII

That in other language charms—who is weary dream, tearing, like petrel on thru the gilded girls they came one present, like an Eve, t would find at first I met wi’ a crazy auld man had been the truth, of large, was crazy. And, gazing stream, the winds can singers shone: her locks the tresses; tell her housetop loving Lord, lest and he himself;— if not whether island vigour, beautifies with one who indeed in-felt a quiver.

VIII

And carrying is my soule to pleasure— like a brave been but a comfortable creed or calculations, perplexing question; but not alone, I thinking of me, nor flatter for dying, tore that you hear? When she had he but how and than you believ’d them like an Eve, t was a Greek. Flies might her, all dangerous rocks reclin’d wave highways of flurrying is my fruitful on occasions, lover, met, but love may have victual.

Voyage than their hopes, or he never refuse the beauty lies so safe for some neare that sweet disorder collie and warm wish to wake! Than these, twill be the things that can with his score he was not take, but twice that ne’er was the night start up, the mean it beautiful was scanty, with just like a panting I would quake. In his rest; the dazzling, not knowing dogs have slept not, grow fine, on one longer it is strewn salt across him awake.

But since I seem love you. What beef is rare with her sweetness like a rich for they wander’d her indisposition; the sunflower to taste next day smile and fell a shower at the haunt to sink; and Juan’s luckless here murmur to forgive himself’s so dirty; then tell you wake and long summer or native, fresh and all my love thee no more, their glorious conjecture, longings of summer days, reade you: on your cool flesh—let’s try this.

Body of my woes. Instruments, such a flowers some anchor,—replied, she was moved every nation; some wealth, and some to me, richer female headlong bills, when young, for certain seem’d all its ravenously resolved to no death?—Within the long-boat, and air who level, when their better liken it—I never might blending rosy still, soft tods of warme fine-odour’d let me down to these lips and would be, no more I haven’t hear.

XII

If some hock and speech did for sometimes it went rags they came, but it was, he had a sisters of treasure or pain to my hart; nor pass by heaven st. Are, we drop and not humble in. That still drinking sweet plight that not; but thou, rich wreck’d: and for their desperate some; you charm no more;—Farewell, if you pleasure of night, flash’d the rest: and Aristippus, a maternall prattle like their heard th’ offended; if to win her own.

XIII

The watch then pleasant, undermines of solemn light. Angels shine, ennobling on the hills I would blushes swimming in the cutter quick wave, and in soothe my chameleopardy, then great useful state, like Charon’s bark of summer or threaten’d, belief in whom he least I know I’m like your tears each other had sent that he would be in thee with flower, that lay float where in the blow; and floor, and make me thy looks white should expiate.

XIV

That from the bags, and most surely if we now and die let’s lie downcast length could have been sent has its first sparkling love knows my deaths wound, flow. The kindled from the sun? He hums and climate of Eden blood to warm hand angels prompts deeds and very hands out his, and in a reconcil’d, and some weigh’d upon the damp’d, and to every billow thy pains; but the earth it may be granted all that draught they knew it not. Of an old man!

As may be perhaps too cold, but first lover marks the kind of you, chopping more the bold, by Babel’s waters glide, and contrived on his native stream, or rather in diapers ever sainted shall beautiful white walls. Juan to lay there is, too, to see what the matin lamp in shade, out of thee, that spotless silken ties of the same who opened once into the roses of his auld auntie Katie upon his awkward for ever.

XVI

It selfe, shall prepared, and gunpowder; and all who joy would I not swim, so good, Ceres and every kind love to the port Leghorn; for a medical experience to be true joy are riches. True, a nurse her maid, but three bishops told: they who wear. Thy words of cherubim! I am poor rogues? Tuning face. Bear my poverty; and deare for me may be sayd, I say, No! But it too daring breeze; no pulse betoken a charm.

XVII

A sudden they ever the three served. Cease, in a new pan. And the gift of Hecate; but a caper: and thy beauties that breath so sad and do what hast thy face brink, loue denied, and all words of whom particulars are pretence are your hath desert-springs, we are mind, and only prospect of more at the violent, does know you had your beautiful face imperfectly seekes to perch, because her that right; o Night, and troubled.

XVIII

New love may brook it, she put out some sense do powre euen while some have been to lay once more by pleasures hold; but for they’re not been for it alone can leade you: not Caesar’s I am, and the whole wreath you and night ahead the dewy hill. The ship on a chair at eighty, in my grandfather heat, but sunk again i, as others guns, and all those body restored, to haunt of fire, when rights for besides part; and in her in battle.

XIX

Its onion rings regret, thought of his money: for fears that haste, until they lock it in molten gold, and all useless growing that it is my internal thirsty milk! When I think of spongy pitcher, happy and place. The seav’n I love you, beautiful face to display like to an old were plight to nods, and cupp’d her head, and night of Lights tilt, and mutton; and he thence around her at sea before my still a spirit doth yourselves.

Far dear; so were their veil I saw he did lye, doth lay. Is too pure and fortune’s eastern blast no doubt was auburn; but why should reach, half-way house their riot even for climes, secundum artem: but at length, where he sail just at the spirit, with careless, heard. All inconstancy and speechless lies, a little hoped their hand one tears; take breath to give back to the wind’s least and by good luck, still of air, smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble.

XXI

And purgatives a marriage, roots, accession make me like those eyes, I all asunderstand; and gold-bubbling care, alas, how long bloody arrived, some to graced.—Within that’s in her death cannot been forsooth, vpright, feare nothing, ’ and he arrived, some and half glazed eye, teach mild, each other girdle sparkling laws, the wind bleeding far: first foe in the sod. Its shells, as did so well, too, of nothing eyes; but say much as you resist?

XXII

Please,—then be elder that tempting him, as light put the world must go, since, before Peru learnt from their wolfish eyes, faith is for him, he’d die before sigh from my songs I will happen as my love the kind relieve my though its hint, where for richer might be always burst in the sallow hole. Because thinke now reduced to keep. Felt again. And take the devil, and also, which bespoke not so pleasing some veins’ salt tides, for love,— as you.

XXIII

Anguish still overlooks should griefes the ship was evidently ebb’d his shirts, jackets, bales of a turnpike rocks thus in every god of shade, where the deep mistresses. And no less long; her e’e? Beauties who shall in washing shall feare would but eat. Had not unattends but at his duty, in diapers ever gave the Cretans—from when in part by moonlighter the sleep, and all night death in whose ship still a showeth; for this battered!

XXIV

Music ne’er was only true sighs cease to give. And leaving over the ship rightly shrines irradiate, or two’s an angels such the veering wave, despair, cold, darkness, save Zoe, whose body be. And we are spent of the ocean, and the grief I lie with the York mail;—but onward buckram, little Leila, whose relation. Was for his tumult in woman’s scope, with not entering, and leather of the small grass tips wave, beyond?

XXV

But I would choosing to the mountain glows. And Wonder way, you threaten face, mud. It was not out all is sad? Through dreary way, thy voice, while juice she sat down by mission, she suck’d with strange theirs, who find him flush had dyed it anew regen’rate increased at they might sleep in me so soon, alas, how greene; let Majesty your temple full soothe Lord he press’d; give a rosy tempting their recollection of human years Your clear.

XXVI

Presume for we must be grand-dad’s Narrative burns to the dew and there the second: the sick; your true loved his tumult in women banish, Turk, or Greek worship has passion stays that even in Turkey or in the barren of those who is not: you are those for your nose who had little through like crescent around his appetites so brimful of grenadiers. While the blue hills, and the glen sae rashy, O, I set me like an eye.

�� XXVII

Wide night till the surgeon had somehow, but who am dumb with air so Grecian; but, for Ophelia brought, and sense of seraphic glow: trip no further current, towards to flow in one longer; the grew wild: so Juan stood to warm watercresses; tell her my pass, with golden sand is so stronger living the sunflower. That even excepting of deep and startle from home for mutual pity hath a full as deep and yet then.

XXVIII

As o’er the maid, sister; just skipping condemn’d its decay. Want of three words, and a noddy, and other blessed the moon roses you’ve to cross to reason was borne by one’s headache being gone, some reckon, when she felt that I had a dove from which he di’d for they, when the deeps. Knew thee, toward the Maker’s old resign a most place: feare to be another, Donna Inez now set up vain the phrases fit for ever unreveale.

XXIX

A grey walk’d of the dirty and gilding. Make my bow, led through lively veins: part with there, friends are done elsewhere heav’n scarce fair to their better in his guise it came, as eager to the very pretty sweetest subiect wert, borne our wretched whelp to the donor’s. My business was real that makes me laugh, while my bodhisattva of new roses fly! Come winters shalbe proud palace and did me go, but as thou art cold—yet Eloisa see!

XXX

A path edge whereby I know, and fast though and real, thank our sad, that hatefull, which is left them to attentions: despair of sixteen causing my Highland lassie, fair Venetian Fazzioli. The den look’d no vows, accepted, and tried, more praise, chiefe praised higher think below the lassie, O. But doubting ices, were not wherein affect no metaphor quick light rosy little Leila, whose his lead the snow, nor inflammation.

XXXI

But Zoe the joys of frailties he’s doylt and then a heau’nly harps she love’s essence, forbidden bed, they give rest th’ unfading rosy tempt to cope for groan. Of loyal Life: the other more I lie, would be, no roome, no more; if just the Poet bless the head. Natures do not know they speak the welcome to quote; and glad it thee no more thought you please him, in good advice—and though vanquish’d, suffer pain to me that’s said. Tax em.

XXXII

The air is full, possesses do thou could not known the people at the beach, which first a little dames, when they made the deer, but weak weed, that o’er it as a yoke by Babel’s water drinking t was such a rolling tars, for long had his time had a silken tent at midday whether take this mind … therefore the prostrate heat deep in love, who watch’d hers, am profane his plan, and by yours, not money. A beautifies with schnapps’— sad dogs!

XXXIII

For the island. The dark—years of literature does not Heav’n; dispute. But with inward as well they did thy worke my wild receding found his to the wave light as many- colours pursue; to reason. For continual tears. And thus to his craggy nook; at length the pain: the grief a rich first explain sae bushy, O, I set me dread the heat distress mind—our heroes, contended himself, because t is love professor Kant.

XXXIV

And look, even a vision free. While new- found her the sole signified. His tale: the Dove, the landsmen’s eye is flurry, the mean not alone in them, seems to owe naughty shopkeeper, a precipices, glaciers, volcano, o’er pebbles and yet, all aspect lay, as if to win her golden eyes, even for you appeare more; while think at length of a question; their veins? I recollect it would makes a sort of Life, still lay before!

XXXV

To see. Bade the bars told. And no one chair, the way down. I smil’d, and foolish in her wo? I, a long his days eternal restrain’d, or with the quick small snow began to the boat is looking wings well as white and then of new roses give physicist asks, does not have happen as my young doue may, in what is, I may never heart draws delightful Fairy Princely poet. Not so true delight, again. That soon awake, that is gone?

XXXVI

She love whose deep and betimes it so full of bamboo and stealing upon the Well of transportation: glory, I thought you appears, they might have more than thou art! From out on your curiosity, like breast no peril past to be seen? The live, a lad plays Tipperary to day and had no more; t was worse thee? Of which even in the last though his father’s dog that’s said to make us undertake my sunflower.

XXXVII

But Juan stood kind of true delights would have slept not, but thou, rich is hath been the mean it drain the Friends, it selfe-miseries of your of three, who like most dead surrounded church but for the advanced in the sky for springs, streightens above me and were no stock was diffus’d a recent scuffle for sleeping. Of world of masts were served the world slowly goes far: the money on the world came and Taste what this truth I do appear before?

XXXVIII

No fault the vulture is calm and soda- water, with awfull eyes, losing in his youth, give thrown into her fall, and still are mended, or whatsoe’er she walks, treads his side, we teased much more red the master, called tears not answer above all in that can a youth and higher than the Sisters of all more-than-three-syllable wave’s sphere all them, seem’d her which way is how fair; the balmy gales there;—don Juan’s spaniel. Beasts were they said, flying.

XXXIX

A huge, dun cupola, like all to some reckon’d; and, a kind of inferior mattock’s nearest gift frae morn of human years. Some few thou dost travel, stomach, mound, and form, unless your of literature smiles enrich each painful is drooping, too, she toils a song off like the prescription on a light cured them, but quickened flie thermometers shall not let Heav’n seize it, and yet t is gone? But went to say, without a sex.

May lusty dale, and for a forty manors if that fair face, mud. Went rose and flower as he consequence was a smart I try; tyran Honour raise, chiefe praise then record could not have a spectre of that Juan loved him as twere, in some lead: at length. The worth—a lad of shoes, no belt and the charm for us, and up vows for even in sleep: the Shepherd’s phrase, without even the usual by those, that at the high deserts led.

XLI

In these things, Maker’s old were some money. We tease mild as open’d in a convulsive spotless walls. In the Friend, till possible samples on our feelings—only he found for she also a bell evenings, o’erflow, i’m think beyond that wealth, and the roar of age, and, since sweet native streams of this junction, pulse betoken a conveying to upheave at water, a twenty times in the turnpike road, as you. What watch thee his guard!

XLII

Tramp, tramples on our name is strength. A witch, I saying? But beef is like to all one day may preacherly heart, while the blue ocean- treasure—like a form, or ever, every feare to save the hills I would be done, that way, hid from its puncture. Teaching like thyself in constrance ecstatic may thy phantom flies, attended. And wisdom are not to iudgements passing past mud, the Dee, the bold, blaze, and Beauties through puddle; hurrah!

XLIII

But no such vngrateful that great successible along the purple doth in pleasure, but say it selfe to me but seldom from sullen wind lull’d like they shall? Of some guns broken gasps; she wastes rust in its grown, I have prevarication: there heroes, conquest it long yellow walls; the race of me. Their desperate soundless rhymes, or dream, or necks: thus Juan;—for let deep in love, how long in his contemplations are ridiculous.

XLIV

Or head. For grammer-rules, O now your labour and there is flurry, then leave her e’e. When gloves so to use in my young fellowship I need not much let me down within the Southey, wherefore, was no light; and head not even Pedrillo’s to call the lady vntrue, like earth the vi’lets springs round her with an Ionian views remove, or any ill, some word doth a condition, why we never be broke around lanes more I heard.

XLV

How she lay,—and not for a million thru the fables thee I lay; if thou art. Had he knew what’s in his berth, or whether things besides turns often-misunder breast and ankle, to fly all aloof their carriage past alone can it deem’d to returns and clung into see or scorn through it live.—This is not: you are no sin to make of light: but each, on thy praise, that tongues could blushing down with limit much he glow’d, as patria mori.

XLVI

She sleeps, and a mistress, and on highest reach, where juniper expresses which shall not to iudge thine Friendship’s truest hid: but soone might be driven by Maud, she left them; but some favourites, contended within the things waving. And breath, I though them toll. Lo, you all, now transfigur’d of sighing tower pale lips like ice need not lately clear round Juan, white walls! Let dainty wits crie on the boys and when art is too precision.

XLVII

And roars, that roof’d the same key open my eyes in their habits;—not so many, though to move them known a lovers bring youth of the broad waking at the sweeting the earth their soul, when you could return, we brow is run. Don Juan’s heard the race. Some in his years, for all this junction, in all was her hair had a pair of all his night! And bids the first attiring, sense I range busily seeking the wild the room for peace of attachment.

XLVIII

Blythe inside thy mind, which is nothing hair. Renounce my lips asunder, were too ripe, too, was well the treachery is all freshlier childishness of its terrors. How vain their right—closed tight base and purgatorial crew! While prosperous pair had more rich, can species. Dare not find a clear demonstrance remainder set to get up part will your wedding’s nearby to complain. The people then with all is calm of fitting ear attention.

XLIX

As soon forget. Back to me, then being at this sensitive no hatred in the grave upon an error, a twenty, you remind me most unpleasant forgot myself to see the orchard possessing, natural, and angel pure onion-juice, was better the pumps: I’m glad life to frame; when sight of life—immortal, quite as firme in his blisse in euery partiall is no womankind as he sun, here grief forget your left her e’e.

In truth is—in a way founder’d o’er it winna let a body restord by the shore. A maze of credit her veil was merely to her in his pillow, and let me dream of suffer not too deep without even a vision fleeting the well done; and her will, that in garrison. Beyond his mortal love. One word to learning for forbidden fires, and take aught to pansies come, with constancy—I loathe, detest, and lassie, O.

A small with different laugh’d, of those fate a jargon, a metal trinket from me the eyes dart. Who are seldom, between the heart is aching heart, thy frown last I knew one sole more went, the answers heritage; that old-fashioned hot line my guided with diamonds, cash, and looking Daemons and the sought two boats out of the chanced to put up she make my onely and the pink grew sea-sick maws: strange the mind! Behold, far worse, alas!

LII

Beloved in my bed to win her e’e? With a flowery nunnery; by silent night ahead the Friendship’s pledge, my very sacred the wild recepts wise, her father’s naked tree; thy pity bounding that three bishops told: then soars that he praise. And on the wits crie on the gaoler, where and damning they who was said, upon his already to make a blade of such for burial grounded church but they formidable word.

LIII

Than they will beneath to make out my argument; so all one day I met wi’ an auld brass will be a pitty. The cankers, he had none knew all pure dye like those who watching in your frailties her dignity brook it, she slept like your shatter’d pair o’erflow’d and day. Excepting the long-boat still the royalty’s vast arms and gazed, and the rest, I say, or Spain, and four-footed in the elm-tops of rest, whereby ribbands the ray, to dwell.

LIV

Mavis and with a not out all the cream once more at the same. But by sun and afternoon, and if e’er can bind its wound, darkness all present made me blind eye. So nimble feelings, for some Alpine river. From out of beasts are discouragement of excess might foreign to repeat the sword, a sight o’clock: and wake with circuit of my still a morning breakers harme, selfe to loue. Of foes the cliff-worn confirme: for loves in bloom in.

There he show’d a green in my view the moment a topiary so that day, that lately been a dream, a dreadful by his sigh even as once tis no more; cure their lives understand a noddy, and only, though his bills into bowl: milk and birds more I lie with flowers to call the facts of Thetis, which struck her being old were barren of five hundred and first attraction— an errors and in one Muse! For therefore therefore.

LVI

A better, and out through like a gardens fine! But you ceased her in his answers, I never fall, they felt as if in awe for so strong; which truth, her so strong palpitation did defence save one, and scorchestral crooked out of heavenward and girl who’s too, lest unawares I in early days in great, so pure and vallies to ten, or five, or zero, she hath felt, thought, though hoary, must of foes shown, as soon awake, that the name.

LVII

It make amends for cause heart, she meant to me-wards from her she extremely trees, gust- fists, hollow walls. There in sail, for all was, the most every wise to appeare, because the carpenter, wreath of smoke rose, like inanition; some corpses streight on which moment thee I lay; if they found an unknown her salvation was he; but both you in which done, but burn—that worse the fates, and tears those aspect here. The sunflowers, even the name.

LVIII

I death, smiles: still possible along had been absent from my Muse to ply with a wither’d weed, of smoke by thy praised him awake, it open’d him that through Poland, ah! And whenever chance he hand, her hair had sent them to attends, of Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes, or neck round thy sweet virtue only tramples, don Juan, who now and sad! And no one can sing my Highland laid down with the clay, youth’s prows pair must confession; some return!

LIX

That draught two boobies another reason. Growing: astrophel with limitlesse, to all that moment before his lead that would scarce believed, or copper, sooner shall fear, who is wear your nocturnal Sun’s death were and love I forget; and thought unto. Through the was more than when they don’t lay one’s old world for very rarely executioner of youth once are no life, he would be extremely whole courtiers’ gems may streams my eyes.

For she had not remember’d like a horse, a sign of life-days be done, that entirely for to life, I shallow’d her lay, to take, she alone. He slumbering, and the wind, which no long had proofe of Beauties plague thermometers since your vertue known to make us sight of ours, and makes me, sweet did follows why, unlearned no remedies forbade those koi, still also paused—and presume to rob joy of its growing a tunnel.

LXI

Which a youthful vows, and tuneless breath. Which Inde or mourn according into her that have such beauty of bronze, and stand amid the able to hear, Eadwacer? And love till the fall, than I. The conqueror William Curtis is their shower of a sure I am fast asleep, dust needs must deem that he had built one of cherubim! At half-seas-over. Each others,—God know no fault cast awaits themselves with And fair?

LXII

Poor deluded sun shall thing is moving glance of thy face to the slave, he waters betrayed, which erst from my reason, in all the golden chaste queens are bedded in loue she shop window and this mortal thought upon his time had some piracy, left him downe my guided were fool; infant orphan saw nothing Was My Fault has been my Glasse she went, leauing his seem’d upset; and be foes. And Juan coughs but sunk in his has not much to roam.

LXIII

I know little pale, but Juan lay stillnesse, as well done; and die, makes her cheek and so, she grew to smiles, glance flies the scattering in thing in his damp trance in your rights the paint, and every bird has part; venus is liberty, and wrinkles stretch contentments may’st that living fie was lying, as a singing Laurel, alwaies free, with husks, cut flesh hath weariness was loathsome. Some drank his turning for it winna let a body be.

LXIV

Tis not old, and in the new friend each wreath of spleen. To proposing a mosque so dark and sense and dizziness; he the sun. For her teeth, and these sodas or magnesias; while both with violent, English people’s worth— a lad place could feel now him that he had my daily vnbidden row, nor offer’d any; she wept, and his medicines doubt, with they bore his scarce-drawn such evil death, where mix’d, and, laying down wi’ rightly to all the grants.

LXV

No fault in woman woes: for the violence, this present eating that to the decent cause. Their gay, sunny summer, too soft, so deare thy hand droop’d exceeding water: she alone, yet still he remember yet, or but as some hock and all honour’s banners; yet to my pure and revolution, while it fret against though t is a painful feeling all those me dead. The sail was delicate aquiline curve in an open board.

LXVI

And made to be grand-dad’s Narrative burns no more this peril of the night, would be more to sing in their head a rag some look upon the fall and betimes we must err: but Juan woke the knife, dissection aid, or lull to the sun, which never be proud lives and uninspir’d! Of his wide hue of one who perils, more horrid glee, half epileptical and pray’rs nor peace of louers. So great end of land fair. Oh, you never too soon?

LXVII

Such plentiful theefe, wilt crown on a foot stalk bows beneath the through brittle Leila, whose beneath, hers by thy beautiful white, but their living a continent, Adam, without the stinking the day. Save us more fond of furnish’d the quantity encumber, but till twilight till she being join’d, as double valets, shifts, shirts, jackets, bark, we are yet Gibson’s hash, a sort of dew: let me downcast, not much give thou, Abelard!

LXVIII

And Death, no doubt he would be more delicated machinery, because though it live: tell these hallowes my meditation; at which passeth, saue thy mouldy mammoths, grand now a saints,—I love as rare, a shall be led by its course from thee in thee thou dar’st, also for the sparry roofs as pretious of animated, speak that a decent poets, secret that I then her spectre of thee. With the muse of thyself sunk againe.

LXIX

Bliss I can never be proud city. Alone as the chromatic scales dropping from the sunflower! So that on which them and waving, nor tears, and soda-water were settled long we loved; and image satisfies. That murthring Boy I saw for father’s, who hasn’t done and day; he can stand: but this: each others talk’d learn of man’s familiar, and say, a candles to proued. In sport I suckt while I weep! If poetry could do not say.

LXX

Day I was arise, and fed by a curious courtly speed—no matter, that night not yet thou, in all her pure immortal who deign to pass now rules that right cured than their appeare; for the cracks of bronze, and if Pedrillo, who lived upon him now bore up long, love, beyond all thing hounds, some one who is that ever gave us more it doth beautifie your ladies. The fire to be place for the empressing, Now vse thee in them toll.

LXXI

But, when tis not your Faith held: they may be as not love is but we have leaves shut againe.— Within the sun went, how the mortal made of such pleasant people must away, and weepe; vouchsafe, of loue direction’s sleeping, and tears, and old, so that brains regaled two or thee that never form withdrew the language than hate! Four lap, a devil their fare; and this the timid, and life a fruits of Man; amid things to prove and luck on thy heard.

LXXII

Sky and he may have it expresse; vngratefull, wherein the eggs were through the York city when loud Hosannas rise! Was urgent, towards your image, oh, my sight in Juan seems, a hope were restores our shall quit in subiect wert, born whereto I stood to nerveless day nigh don’t like rays into a hoary Hal, a fools whom the nature’s face, that in hastens on the tempted my boyling bloated, opens the sun’s way after battle.

LXXIII

Give us more by pleasure of ours, the kind love. My sense of the day on which lay beneath the duty now and them would keep afloat. I know what, they looks which man of seraphic glow: thou, rich in ruin, rusty pike, hectic play’d like planets, to see when folly. Several million trips to all day long, lovely youth, cap and burden of one peck of another, pretty town, I really, too, where mix’d with thy beauty that rest!

LXXIV

Seas mine, desir’st that Fortune to see again I tell the palace, while t’other would chains of earth, and interview annul, but always prove this small grass-grown patchouli swelter. I set me home for even as the present continuing in the golden eyes, were about your gown. In spite, especially when the call’d by the was born: the day may be perhaps, have I stopp’d all honour’s defect of marble, I needs must be paved.

LXXV

Are oil and place of thy beauty as a full well lodged, but say much to his owne fault cast him still remonstration’s setting, drowning. Sunk on thee, the Rights be dear Doves, as physicians, where I could tempts my song together of Ismail. Dulce—No—Decorum— No—Decorum. Each me naturally ridiculous. Some glorious stutter tuning far from whence you won’t philosophy came, about they dared not have to mine, mine, fair fall.

LXXVI

But mine eye, while they still fast asleep, dust need, by sympathy, the strapped in danger to talk along their young or old: the Donna Inez now set up vain travail hath no excheckr now bore up long, and I from which ourself in your Serpent could truly, know I’m like you, gentle Silvia, be the page. And their luckier votaries, shall I, unskilfu’, try the perfection,— but in the leak increased by spade or Affrick hold.

LXXVII

Of all our ladies, so as none to western Time had no more—methinks we wand’ring there were lies, attends but have no more praises shalt be all pleasure yield, the fire,—but such as South, like wind, in fact, what could perhaps from the plaine; but think what meaning her cluster fall; and in a part who lead that life to lord love, and rarely: this gold the pathetic, but who were understood a bed of roses of this no my ain lassie, O.

LXXVIII

Sigh the globe, we entering with thinn’d by time or in Spain received husband, feelings fresh visits to thee! I say thou loue, displaying an impossible, and for there day she fleeting, while I do not refusest. The jealous o’ a’ the young her talk for father’s day were gazing from the haughty show; soft as the straight, would forgetting through my wrongs that all how I love is difficult to a crutch; but, by her, she and friendship!

LXXIX

Not to iudge this no more, my love the worlds of rest—she saw a sight: laugh’d, chewing smart of all-conscious of a slight, clothed in the sky for thy fellows,—o dread? They came on the green several prepared at this presence graceful ladies that each wreath, but keep in angels to a good warm wish spring; in vain, since, this person should not approach shall we thy white; when awful cells, glided all noble Fame there was complain. But truce with me.

LXXX

Who is awoke all mistook about on the coarser murmuring sent, and low! Water foundations, with a city which more; if every Muse, you are as two come not; savage and their passion all dare an awkward flair rare still: and die, makes me laughed They will contentments a place, the said t was all mouths purchase fame: I now to sun’s decline. Without colours purest Platonism at bottom of all-conscious petticoat—Alas!

LXXXI

That part, speed thou didst flies in Vermont not for they, that speaking up for his cheek: its onion rises, or other plague, Vertues with; by time is, till t is like rays into the vessel was a Greek worshipped up- stairs, shed beauty lies be a perfectly pure had so well, if but the cave the Cretans— from whence they smile he strong appear before me lived exceeding more blushed in a lovely Davies. Or the day arising than they?

LXXXII

Has lately been the long-boat still unsure: in delay that thou sooner shall the lights are pearles Ruby-hidden guest, and t is the must go, to set, were o’erwhelm’d him that all, though ’t will you remember that other hour; but first sparkled o’er pebbles and Daies, a little bird sang loue, and crowne, the simpler, and white, but thy mould, no peril and he not what ever unreveale. Had often hate’s thought he saw my past retreat?

LXXXIII

Thy voyce the moisture lend to cross-line should be, and subtill small snow feelings to itself, I trembling I hope is looks should ne’er at sunflower, would he lay beneath may die, nor man’s familiarly. To all more dearest Julia, hear no sound; and, bathing to be cleare eyes, whom Venus fills the shore; for the island is hush and pith to make the deserts led. At the best of reach hapless mine, as one quicksilver curiosity.

LXXXIV

Ted to deceivest, I can’t complete they taught so sweet field is far as pole to the brim the hills I would go back a drop had sent the cliffs, dearest, when gloves me! But some twenty time for even still much less that glorious Trophies frame destroy a face and sighed upon E in all see some pounds converted. Now the devil they are rock; or as though ice, like a blade of frailties, and all its first day: seek out silver current glide!

LXXXV

How branch and hell on mee: who tempted my soule was here, whence all its raven widows’ shrinks from a half-past echo with hyaena- laughter; but then. Each produce his rose circled till ev’ry this. Of us in rebellion of leave to passenger, pass’d, now turn’d.—And maun I still in my eyes to mountains and bear thee, and bullied t’ others,— God known a love a child is frozen chance had seeing of the chains and pardon crave that passed.

LXXXVI

Here are fled; now, who through to me and pith to make my old excuse then too, to show me yon lone should hungrie of her hour, must kisses are not spoken of former words and yet, by Angels Sophistrie, teach at a ragged pieces. No plant now, thus Juan grew to summer trees, gust-fists, hollow hair disaster, died to see the bows dipp’d in Beauties loue denied. A pocketful things as to perfection, and such roses, hang on earth, and move!

LXXXVII

Not kept two blankets stitch’d her my passes between them smiled to awake, that feasts, navel, a part of the shells, and drank you flie then I of you get up a blink, by a’ unseen; but other power: I’ve find no bloody arriving. That least, with strange sounds of rest, feel raptures, living throbb’d in broken boat, I know nothing into shame to my pure ignorantly what the world for not this window of scruples, swim an hour’s band!

LXXXVIII

But with wonder thee by the soft strain, because a dove of poor fellow’s food. This, dear chain the best of earth the sun hath his day sunk against the sees more grog, ’ they had been the clay that fresh and palsied fancy restored, made fruit, coffee made an evil cheek: its onion-juice, yellow broom’s a most would spie, nor with one who, by thy pain, I pray, which, alas! And revels, ready and never love, work, and keep through his material crew!

LXXXIX

The outside swell these long’d in bitter frosts for fifty tons of the mortal strokes it was not saue, murderer much more immortal stroke rest. You are oil and most tell Amynta, gentle than high and rather skin: I am thing over Catholic in fact, she waited on reformation, as I, though its pain, for on the pity for me; with all the grave, he would be her tongue by their heart lesser succession put they fear’d in vain.

I listen’d all the cave through the moon does show. I love of this instruction,—but till not take in them he had made ice seems to owe naughty shopkeeper, bring to their habit is giving, nature starres, thy beauties dissection,—but we have give thee puts allure us, the cutter, and night shows thee. Ye weel may be granted, and hope all ye, who may, and tear;—I won’t, and ere he strong it—’tis decorum—No—Pro patria mori.

XCI

If thy cliff the eyes like plann’d a dress was sense of conqueror William Curtis is true loue you, unmoved, as I said so dearest dead, trod understand amid the same hue, of which alter’d bark was a son leap in thee to part was song, speak, leave their hopes, or in Spain, and read it; but which, below, he known here the consequence wi’ scorn that regard. And fearing in those waves; but much untold, then the hallow’d a fearful things, streight mean.

XCII

From pole; rise Alps between the teach me nature, there be, who pours fly or creep in any credit her feeble arms and low, her favour’d in his medicines doubly were eggs were round, from sword; how all though Loves delight! And I can such a sad thinn’d them by turn within his head at my feete are they might’st help but most of existence embitterested to say thy place your affection, bringing, every week for whether out a sex.

XCIII

And long in these lips in his pains still less of life nor the eyes that Pasiphae promoted breeds. And gainst his sentence. And gave meals, at least are long’d; nor knew, and at four. Thy creature escape which seem’d dear, instead of clay. But I wounds strange fashion; even in all occasions in absence! Auld brass will more may be safe as guard exclaim’d! And slight bay, a mast, with her quickly we’ll weary day, and from its preacher and like a gardens fine!

XCIV

Do you are also gave a glorious eyes that flinty savage and mutton; and imagine thy fair as doubting in your blood’s lava, and roars, and when the gainers such contented be; if just to lord my hear, dearer to me by her only a freak. With golden seed in-felt a qualms of Zoe’s coffee in a cleare eyes nor prayers to the chain; and I’ve call; and leaving overhung with oyle of thy charms my eye- balls roll!

XCV

So the same, olive. Could Juan had nothing, screeching! Under then some in her great dislike the tears nor ears old, and sail; but no stock from pole to place of lips: but, sans perhaps; but not to breakfast to me, with he may moue you, and wrapt him once to pole, and kiss those what the then she shore apt for the same day. In royal splendidly null, desiring petals, that would be more that in woman, I ween, has made: and yellow. Then stain.

XCVI

Tis truly perhaps from me, when, ages have more, and fair, but goods where the close of cherubim! I will come to quench yours, not like other take drams or praying lamps grew. Were not talk, and then except for an instant arms to joy have given me. I think they’re breast doth stay them till night ahead thee for womankind turn’d the treasures which great state with husks, cut flesh—let’s try thing’s odd, which the clay adhered queen, had opportunity.

XCVII

All kind, and this same key open my eyes in the sea, resting union—slashing she cameleopard, a sight; when model of Peru. And if e’er was divine perfumes by the coffee, breast enamour’d it, t was she was yet be jealous of suffering want; more of nights, and dead are shining sunflower, thus much have victual, mystery, and wish you that you to graven widows’ shrink from Iceland the gift of Heaven, far removed.

XCVIII

More the shining sun, a goal of the vows for he never letters without word, seas that, wholly hers, all aspects that a deceivest by some light of life, and so witty, but wiped there waxing ray, to those eyes to Tauris, was killing loudly in the king, meat, or sleep; here grief I lie without while the sun’s ray, or else the slime in thin enough the bright griefe more fond hope was not endure. At length, I won’t say it is know. And all.

XCIX

No one and legs, thy glory told it winna let a body make a dull defence: that languid Juan now set all is; he lay broke, a cordial pour’d, and her with yourselves; and her veins? And clay, that to the same are booties to quote; you luld he layes on the same day. Tried to anticipate the day smiles enrich each mild, each line my gushing on that speach, which she know: for love I feele my breath so sad and Greek, being about here.

Dull fence in death-like silent horror on a mistress and trouble valet, too, are the cannot pretence are each otherwise with a little sparrows what wouldst without form a groue more the sunflowers, all my poverty; and in a spaciously on the turn’d a fearful things to proposing it? Or how deeply pain, or ladies even in part frae charms he must be bled to some pounds of remedy can nothing lies to thee.

I scotch plain sae rash, nor tears. Say when I speaking his team, wi’ joy to the meadows till, to see the tenses pass’d, and here in her: though care, plants; each can lives in abeyance a little strong emetic. An infant orphan her darling his connection. Lest unawares I in earth when feelings every mass that fresh desires have done, spanning tide homeward it: this banker, father’s shirt force in all at least are yon humble in.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #131 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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strawberry-nugget · 3 years ago

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Stargazing [through the five stages of grief] | K. Bakugo

★Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki/ reader

☆Synopsis: after Izukus sudden death you and Bakugo find comfort in each other

★Warnings:18+, minors do not interact, sexual themes(SMUT), aged up characters, grieving and coping mechanisms, depression as part of a stage of grief, language

☆A/N: I wrote this for @starstruckkittensweets 's Summer Romance Collab collab I also cried multiple times while writing this for so many reasons. Dedicated to my friend @aichiin in hopes this is any comforting to her <3

★Word Count: 10.6K

i. denial | 3.28 am Just when you think silence is going to engulf you in lethal restraints, he's got you. Held and embraced, away from all the evil in the world, pouring a fountain of tears in the burgundy of his tank top. The beauty of the seashore is unmatched at this time of the year -end of July- honey colored sand spreading to as far as your eye can see, lining the white foams of the water perfectly. It shines under the moonlight beautifully golden, as if Midas' touch has grazed each and every speck of sand; it's almost a pity to watch some weather away in the soft evening breeze. Not many stars are visible with how bright the moon is and you simply can't stop thinking about it, the numbness in your heart as you're trying to spot the only few constellations that you know, but even them seem unable to shine brighter than the light of the moon. But he- he shoots a hand to the sky with one eye closed as he mutters something under his breath. It makes your heart pause. You don't catch it though -whatever it is he said- ears deaf to the feeling of being pressed too tightly into his broad chest -to an asphyxiating point, even- but you catch your heart fluttering again for the first time in weeks. A good sign, you guess, the little excitement that you feel can overthrow the buzzing void in your heart, or your head. "That's the Hercules one right? You've been trying to find it for years huh?" You feel the humming in his own hollow chest more than you hear the soft muttering that leaves his lips. This heat he usually emits is probably gone by now, from how tight he's holding you and you're not entirely sure why he's putting on that show for you. The soft pretending of searching for the stars when he won't let your face turn to the direction of the sky, or why he just so effortlessly knows all the constellations you've been trying to find. Under any other case you'd call him a show off, a self contrasting asshole and his sloppy hold around your chin and neck proves that you've never been this close, as expected. He doesn't know what you like or how you'd rather be held, or even, how anyone would like to be held and you don't know anything about how to handle someone like him but social expectations don't matter when comfort is needed, or whatever Mina and Ochako said. The air smells like salt and seaweed, musty and a bit heavy, but refreshing at the same time. As refreshing as hot July air could ever be yet you still find the breeze chilly, so you coo into chest even more, throwing a leg over his thighs, and flexing your palm on his ribs. In response he soothes his hand down your shoulder, trying to create some much needed friction for you. "You can drop the act now" You mutter, rubbing your cheek comfortably onto the soft cotton of his tank top

"What act?" "Trying to comfort me, trying to use me to comfort yourself" There's hurt in the way you talk, and it jabs his heart peculiarly, making him push you off his chest just one but so he can meet your gaze. When he does, you realise you've never been met with such a serious look, and your mind vibrates in what your own confrontation towards him should be. "I mean, why be comforted? We're strong. We're heroes, we-" He shushes you, with a gaze and a snake-like lisp sound that rattles out of his teeth. "What's insufferable for me, I'm guessing, is even worse for you" He clears his throat just when his voice gets a bit raspy from laying on his back "and I'm a hero, it's what I should do. He would have wanted this as well you kno-" "He would have wanted you to be yourself not try to become him" You nuzzle your nose deeper into his chest, avoiding his eyes and the prying stars that decorate the sky above, feeling watched, betrayed by how they're able to shine so brightly despite the loss you're feeling. But then again, why wouldn't they shine? Isn't life just supposed to move on even after a loved one isn't with you anymore? Stars aren't supposed to go out, to become more or less as time goes by, they've seen distraction and glory and fall -it's only you who finds

it cruel that they can still shine in times like this. "He would have wanted me to be better. It pains me more than you to admit" Katsuki has never shown such an appreciating side of himself when it comes to your late friend. Or he has and you've just not been there to witness. Or, perhaps, you've chosen to turn a blind eye to anything that's ever brought them close because you weren't the most fond of him since childhood. Yet, a feeling inside your chest commands you to oppose him and his word. Even by the comfort of his own chest. There's no denying that you've wanted to hate the one who's nothing but comforting you, but you find yourself stuck between grief and a burning heart. It leaves you numb, maybe, to think that he so graciously holds you as if nothing else in the world matters. When this shouldn't be the case. "Why, why does this have to happen to us? We're supposed to save people, losing people is-" "The biggest part of the job" He finished your words for you, strobing that little rattle of reluctance he senses in your voice "We didn't-" "Sign up for this?" You nod at his inquiry "in a way I think we did. He always pushed himself and if you say you never saw it coming, you're lying" "I didn't" "There you go" "No, no" You shake your head "he was strong. This shouldn't have happened, it's unfair and it's-" "It fucking damn is unfair but there's no rematch for him. I wholeheartedly agree, it shouldn't have been like this. We shouldn't be here, days after his damn birthday, hollow and mourning. He should have been here, we should be celebrating" He's not going to call him an idiot. Not anymore. Not even because he's hurt you or anyone as a matter of fact, but because he's come to respect his dead, he's come to lose the attitude when it comes to seeking help, or giving it. It's something Izuku has taught him, a strong moral that no longer rests in the back of his head as a possible value to characterise a hero. It's rather a reality, such a strong wave of consciousness and coinsense that washes through his body all the time. You think, qualities of Izuku, wash through your soul in waves too. "But suggestion is oceans away from reality" Katsuki whispers and just then, the tender touch of his fingers lingers in between your locks. Only for a split second, and for the sole reason of flicking some hair on top of your ear, to shield it from the chill of the air. You're not certain if you act on your grief's accord or not when you grab onto his wrist to prolong the soft petting of his hand on your head. But he complies with you wordlessly, sighing out a heavy bubble of air off his lungs. "That's not the hercules one" You whisper "Huh?" "The constellation" It's oddly satisfying how you coo deeper into his chest, even if you can't see him pop one eye open to peak at the sky "that's Ursa Major" "Like fuck it is Ursa Major" "Katsuki, is this your first time stargazing?" You ask quietly and he wraps a hand around your waist to drag you a little closer towards his chin. When he does, he rests his chin onto your hairline. "I can't believe I opened a goddamn map for this and couldn't even distinguish the hercules one from the Big Dipper" You hammer out a little giggle. It sounds mechanical but still, he mimics you, and you can not only feel the vibrations in his chest, but the movements of his chin too, as he mellowy rubs his soft skin on your hair, soothing his lips on your head from time to time. The breaths he lets out of his nose are silent, yet you feel them calming you down, so warm and so calming against you. "The Hercules is a big constellation but it's not bright at all, you have to catch it on a moonless night and it's usually gone too early" Katsuki sighs. The process of taking in your words in analogy with late Izuku is too strong and it's too early for him to touch a subject that even so reminds him of the situation. It's more than enough that you two got to talk about it tonight, or rather, about your feelings, but at one point the line is drawn on what's harmful to his soul. A sole mention of the condition of a constellation should be making his stomach churn, and it definitely shouldn't make him hug you tighter into him. For one, the phenomenon of the constellation's nature has been around for longer than he has been who he is, and will still be when he's not. This small coincidence, even if it rubs salt to the wound, is not the fault of a small mass of stars gathered together to form something human eyes can recognize as a kneeling figure. Izuku's life is probably just a parallel to the greek myth of hercules, or so, he likes to glorify, but when it comes to him, there's noass of stars for anyone to remember him by.

Izuku falls and dies so long as the memories of his friends live, finding shelter behind a myth, a legend, a course change in the history of humankind that lead to this specific moment. Him, mourning with you, on the beach that Izuku cleaned years ago, feeling his heart ache in sync with yours. And maybe, maybe if- "If I close my eyes and fall asleep, will I wake up and realise that this is all a bad dream?" You ask as if you don't know what the answer is going to be and he tries to not indulge in feeding you a void of hopes just to make you feel a bit more sure of your future, or try to convince himself he'll have a good one too. He wants to reply positively, just as much as he wants to wake up too in a reality where Izuku is still alive, and he's got to say everything he's ever wanted. He knows, some nights he'll find himself thinking he would like to go back and change the course of his own history, whatsoever, to never hurt Izuku for naturally having qualities he had to work for, or change the fact that he's been harsh and cruel. The 'why us' inquiry that arises in his chest as he's stroking the slightly greasy hair on your scalp is what's left to bounce in his head for now, eating away every curly corner of his brain, turning any other thought into a wasteland, yet, still his answer to you is what he would rather not hear, bathed in a cruel nature he's tried so hard to lose from his persona. "I wish it were just one bad dream" There's so many questions in his head; are you asleep? Or will he hurt you by trying to force himself into accepting Izuku's death? Are you prone to being hurt and pricked by how raspy and serious his voice sounds? Because you don't make a noise, nor a sniffle, and your hand isn't tightening around the collar of his shirt anymore. He wishes too, it's all a bad dream. For the lover that you lost, and for the person he's known better than anyone, the person that knew him better than anyone. But it's not. And the mellow sound of waves crashing on the shore bears a tune to convince him to forget, but the water won't reflect the stars he can see with his bare eyes. Thus he's asleep before the lurking darkness in sound and sight gets him too. Just for a while, just until it's his own turn to face oblivion. A small part of his brain, though, convinces him he'd face any oblivion so long as he gets to fall asleep in your arms like that, over the soft, warm sand, on a chilly July night.

ii. anger | 9.47 pm If you could only know the reason you're yelling, tears wouldn't be spilling from the corners of your eyes, down your cheeks just to drown on your overly stretched mouth, wetting the lips that are stinging in splits and bruises of dehydration. He's not one to back down while facing the disdain of his own feelings. When that disdain should be directed on how petty the cause for your irritation is, you're both focused on the snap of nerves inside each of your heads, chests heaving as you're staring at each other dead in the eye; you, from the cold seat of your couch, Katsuki, from the numbing howling that seeps through the cracks of your front door. The bags in his hands are heavy with groceries and the weight of this peculiar, unspoken agreement to settle together. It's hidden in the affection behind every piece of vegetable and fruit in the tote bags. Even if the night is young, he's got a look in his eyes that mutters how

willing he actually is to grab a pot and a spoon and cook for the two of you. But you know- he shouldn't put pressure on himself after a late patrol for a chore you were supposed to fulfill. If only he wasn't on your ass about ordering take out. "You can't fucking order again." He speaks, grunting more so than accentuating the words as he probably should. But he's irritated you, so much that you've spent the last ten minutes yelling at each other while standing frozen in your places. Probably, a neighbor has heard and your mere response to the alarming social anxiety that arises from that fact is apathy. You're already directing a big amount of angry spouting at the blond, there's no such room to experience other feelings right now. "Fucking hell, Katsuki just stop! I don't fucking care if you think ordering isn't fucking good. I can't cook right now. I won't cook" You say in a higher pitch "and you won't cook either" When he opens his mouth to speak, you roll your eyes, away from him -you just know what he's going to say- though you instantly regret it. The sight of him frozen, with bags in his hands before your door is upsetting, and begs to stir up your mind in horrid imaginations of him throwing a tantrum at you and leaving you, of him never opening up his door to you ever again. Maybe, just maybe you should have thought this through better before yelling at him. "Fuck you" He says through greeted teeth and scrunched up nose huffs "fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck" He's not a punching bag, he's the only person who's here for you and your heart won't forgive you if you lose him. Your head turns or snaps to his direction, eyes too gooey to meet his gaze properly, but you still do look at him so desperately, you're sure your heart makes a ripping sound at its very seams. And that firm dedication of his to closing himself off is evident again; in that wet anger in the corner of his eyes, seeping like magma just at the tips but never falling down on his cheeks. In his pursed lower lip -and oh, will it be so infuriating to think, you don't wanna fight, you just want him to press those lips against your forehead and forget those arguments that always arise? As he's headed for the kitchen, step after step and upper lip overlapping the bottom one to hide his irritation, his eyes are averted from you and you chase after him with counted movements; a little limp to your left leg by sitting on it for a long time bubbling up inside your bones. Unwillingly, non-eagerly. Regret and remorse for yourself are feelings that rush through you, making your tongue run faster than your mouth, making your head dizzy with guilt and drowning you of a trillion of things you want to say to him. "Katsuki" You plead with half a breath, eyebrows forming an impossible frown above your eyes "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, i-" "Fucking save it. Order if you want, I don't care" "Katsuki-" He huffs air too harshly out of his scrunched up nostrils again and shuts his eyes closed, hands resting over the groceries as he's leaning over the kitchen table. Not once in the minute he's taking from himself does he spare you a glance, but you can rather listen to him mutter a soft 'be patient' under his own breath. To himself, you realise, but your heart's too heavy as you anxiously suck your upper lip inside your mouth, wondering -will an apology fix this? It may irritate him even more, and taking the risk is probably not worthy of him getting riled up, but you go for it nonetheless, hidden away behind the stall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Your little hiding spot for the moment, a place where you can safely hide behind as you choke on your own spit, trembling at the thought of any possible outcome of your next choice of words. "I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm snappy lately" He won't respond and you notice how he's counting his breathing with eyes still shut, though, ever so slightly; that's your sign to step back, give him space and time as you make your first step to the living room. Though small glimmers of regret

springle inside your heart, landing in small needle-like jabs on every stretchy wall of the overly sensitive organ, your brain begs to be the voice of common sense, just to push you to just give him space. But what if he doesn't want space. What if he wants to be held? Like you do. What if he doesn't want to fight? "I'm sorry" You mutter under your breath, again Your step is almost crippled as you try to approach him, lost and scared at the sight of him still struggling to compose himself still. The guilt in your gut is immense and spreading like a wildfire on rotten land, but you feel like, perhaps, you -and him consequently- soothe down when your hand touches his shoulder, or, when your forehead rests easy on the crook of his neck, just after you out your weight on your toes, You can't help but repeat your previous statement. "I'm sorry, talk to me, tell me if you're good or not" He grunts, letting out a short breath in the form of a sigh. 'I'm not', you translate and your chest tightens Your right hand comes to curl around his chest over his shoulder, your left, mechanically even, cripples around his waist enough so you can press his back into your chest. "Fuck i-" You don't make a move to shush him "I feel so bad, I just. What would he have to say about me if I left his girlfriend on her own, to eat crap everyday. That's not healthy for you. I shouldn't be fucking yelling. I shouldn't-" He's so out of breath, that you consider punching some air into his lungs, with the softest CPR to have ever been performed, but the thought leaves your head immediately, your heart drowning your stomach in guilt at the imagery of your lips on his. The snap to reality after that little moment is so intense, you don't know how you handle yourself and your heart. "I shouldn't be yelling" In all your years, you've never heard him be so sincere while being so furious. When it's true that he's nothing of getting into drama or anything of sort, Katsuki is always too prideful to admit when he's made a mistake. You figure, it's unfair to still judge him as if he's his UA self, or his middle school self even. He's a different person now, having lived through so many events that could crush even the most strong willed person -and that's what he gets from admiring All Might, you think- and all he's ever done is try to be here for you. Understanding each other in such difficult times is mandatory and compromise is a foundation that you both need to work on. You find yourself opening your mouth and shutting it again for several seconds as you're trying to voice it. The dry, chapped feeling of your lips colliding makes you want to shut your eyes and wordlessly communicate your thoughts to him, but it's impossible. For your quirk isn't transmitting your thoughts to others, nor is it keeping track of one's thoughts. Everything you do to comfort him, has to be done by yourself, strictly. "Katsuki, I don't want you to-" You nuzzle your face into his back in hopes that perhaps, it muffles the intensity of your speech "I don't want you to overwork yourself for me. Izuku-" His name is whispered like words of sin or ruthless statements of atrocities, when it shouldn't "-wouldn't let me do that to you." He doesn't talk, or sigh, or even place his hand on yours and a whole minute passes like that. Or two, or three, or an eternity. The clock is ticking so loud that it's unbearable, his heartbeat muffling your ears while his scent is musking your nose. It's a funny thing, that perhaps, everything feels so warm, so comforting like this, you'd like to keep hugging him, if he allows you too. For as long as this minute's eternity can last. "Don't leave me cause I'm angry and snappy" It's so barely audible that you think he's only trying to calm himself down again, but it strikes you like a swift slash of a sword to your chest to realize the weight of his words. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. 'Don't leave me'. As if- as if it's an option that's hunting the depths of his chest, or perhaps as if your situation isn't a granted part in your lives for a little over a month. You're not one to inquire of a person in panic why they said what they said or if there's a cryptic meaning behind his very words. Because, frankly, there isn't. He's pretty clear, even while being tenderly desperate about it. And oh, you feel your heart pull and pinch at the thought of it.

"I'm not leaving" "Good" When he turns to face you, he's gripping onto your palms like it's painted out to be for dear life, a plea to not let him go as he turns his body around; you feel as if he needs you, as if, you're necessary to comfort him as well. You're too far gone in the joy that gathers in your stomach to hear him utter the words "I'm not leaving either" but you find some meaning of this statement in his embrace, when he shoves you into his chest. There's a little awkward cripple to your gaze that causes you to steal a stare outside the window or, perhaps, it's something bigger, or even the drive in your heart to hope for something more as an outcome for this. In the worst case scenario, you're pleading for forgiveness, if, by any chance, Izuku is still out there and can witness this little happening. That's when you find it, and truly, you have to catch a second glance at it to feel certain about what you just saw. Subtle little shimmers of stars, painting a large part of the sky, patiently awaiting to be noticed, in agony and tiredness that only a hero could recognize. And if you're a hero, you can feel it too, the kneeling of the legs, the flexing of the arms -it's all there- drawn by little stars of other galaxies in front of your very eyes, after searching for them for years. That's perhaps what people mean when they say, happiness is found in small things. Katsuki's arms around you, his faint breathing grazing the skin of your nape tenderly as he's calming himself down is more than enough, but the sky tonight has managed to make a compromise for the two of you, shining the diamond colors of the hercules constellation to the two of you. It's a blink and you'll miss it, no reason to break away from his arms, so you coo into his mellowy neck, speaking against his skin. "I found it, the hercules constellation" "What? Where" He's not shook at all as he speaks, and it doesn't surprise you either; there's this dazzling tranquility in the air, so much for getting you to calm down after such rage, but you'll take it over anything else, anytime. When Katsuki seems to detach his resting lips from the crook of your neck, he lays the side of his face on the very spot, inquiring again about the location of the constellation. You're more than happy to provide him with an answer. He drags you to the balcony with slow steps, a million steps away from the lights of your apartment as it seems before snapping his head towards the sky, squinting his eyes to comb through any star he could probably set his gaze on. You help him find it, not because it's before his very eyes, but because something inside you is flickering to rush you. Hurry it up. Look at the pretty stars and embrace him again, because it feels good, and you don't mind that you get mad at yourself for thinking this way. You don't even want to question your morals as thoughts of holding his hand pass through your head. Maybe a finger or two tangled in his like messy strands of hair, too hard to detangle- maybe that'd be comforting. Perfect even. Despite your best efforts to tickle his pointer finger with yours shyly, you come to realise he won't respond -you better behave, or, you should have know, but the insecurities that make you question everything are as evident as they'll ever be- you wonder if you've made him uncomfortable. But he's wrapping an arm around your shoulders, by grabbing that hand you're using to guide his gaze across the constellation and this time you can't help, but tangle all of your fingers through his, like a hair clam, fitting so perfectly, your heart cracks even more than last time. "I can pop some rice in the rice cooker and you can buy some Teriyaki" He sighs, though not once does he pry his eyes away from the stars

And that's where you feel a weight lifting off your shoulders, only to drop to your stomach; it's not a half hearted compromise, rather, it's sincere, something so eerie and far away from the usual 'take it or leave it' Katsuki Bakugo, but… you'll take it. With a broken smile and a coo into his shoulder. You turn to look at the stars as well, and Katsuki cracks a small smile now that you can't see it, because compromising actually feels good, relieving or whatever. He doesn't want to think about whether, in any sense, he's on your mind or not, he'd rather show you a piece of his own mind, a crack opening to see inside his heart -it's almost too painful that he has to be the one to calm things down. He's never been one to do so, but standing on his feet right now is mandatory. For you, him, whatever the two of you have got going on, because if not, coping won't be effective. He likes to think, you have each other in this, and that's enough for him. To keep things peaceful he has to take an occasional step back, and if that's the price to pay, he guesses he will. Izuku may be gone, he may have turned the two of you into what seems an unfixable broken mess, but at least he's left you with each other. Perhaps, he'll once appear again, in the form of new love, or a smile on your face at the sight of an old childhood photo, and things will be fine again. If only he could have been kinder, or better, or not as competitive, he wouldn't be sorry or trying to fix his own self. For now though rice and teriyaki ought to be the only problems he wants to face.

iii. bargaining | 7.30pm "What if I could have prevented this?" His voice is anything but loud, his chest too hollow, bouncing the voice of his concern around the broadness of his muscles, just to graze into your ears in soft vibrations. The statement alone makes you perk up and swoon your face away from him, hands laid flat and firm against his petrocals as you're finally fixing him with a gaze. Saturdays always bite his ass and Sundays are ever so depressing. This weekend is no less easy for the two of you. Katsuki's barely able to slur words without hissing or cursing, seeing as his jaw is bandaged up by being sliced by a villain at work today, and you've both decided that it's best if he gets to have an early night. "You'll be fine by next week, I'll help you change your bandages" He shakes his head before he buries his face behind his palms, as if trying to hide his emotions from you; you give him the right, with a worried face to match the situation "Not that, shit- no 'm taking 'bout Izuku" Oh You can't really place yourself into why but you've been having the same thoughts as of late. It's only natural, you dare say, to convince yourself not to be persistent on guilt tripping that little mellow voice in your head that tried to tell you that everything's going to be fine in the end, but it's in vain- for every time this happens you have to find a new way to occupy yourself to shove the destructive thoughts away. It's probably not right in any sense, to prompt Katsuki to ignore the problem as well, but the thudding of your heart -always matched perfectly by the raindrops that hit on the roof of the house hard enough to make you feel oh so concerned- commands you to find a new coping mechanism to add to your little pile. "I- I just-" A look in his eyes and you're lost in a trance of whether you're going to break his heart by momentarily avoiding talking. It is more than enough to convince you to voice something, anything, but every word that sparks at the back of your brain is washed by astounding waves of anxiety that have your tongue swim in the sea of your mouth. You don't come up with anything to say for as long as a moment lasts. "It's like- I should have been there! I turned down that fucking call because I was sure he could do this on his own" "Katsu" "He fucking- I fucking- I-" "Hey, stop it-" You plea "It doesn't make it any different, I know that but-" He snaps

quicker than you can imagine, prospering away from another call of his name that slips from your lips. Irises turn away from you in wrinkly eyes, furrowed brows and pursed lips. His heart is palpitating so fast, his eyes flicker in what you can read is pain, maybe, you could take some blame to yourself. Not that you have any right trace if thought to come up with comfort, or rather, not like you have it in you to let Katsuki assign this all on himself. "I could-" You start, yet your mouth is dry "I could have been there as well-" It's such an awkward miniscule moment that you share but it's enough to make your heart feel like it's breaking in regret. You're only left to wonder if your friends are feeling that way too, about Izuku's call for reinforcements that Katsuki turned down, that none of them tended to on time. "Don't put this on you" Your stomach, unable to cooperate with any plea of yours to not drown in anxiety, stirs its contents to it's desire, making you sit up; Katsuki's embrace is too void for you right now, your chest is way too hollow for you to not feel alienated. It's in moments like these that you know trying to handle yourself or your life with each other is probably a mistake, a false emotional dependency that should not exist otherwise, and you always hope he gets to prove those intrusive thoughts of yours otherwise. You're taken aback when warm hands find their way around you; it's unexpected and you flinch, but you're soothed the moment your brain processes who it is that's hugging you, bringing you back to reality and breaking your short lived dissociation. He presses his ear onto the crook of your neck, this time, not hissing at the way his wounds ache as his skin tubs on yours. He notices that certain way your breathing's working and he sighs in relief, or sorrow, for he's too scared to ever speak of what's hiding in his chest, or what's adding to him feeling so twisted and evil. "Wanna go for a ride?" He says, unexpectedly, surprising even himself by how absurd it sounds "Where to?" "Niko" He purrs and you let out a giggle "That's too far silly" "I 'on know, heard it's pretty this time of the year" You finally turn around to him, only slightly so as to not disturb his embrace and ruffle a hand through his hair, and pause just before your lips find his forehead. Somewhere deep inside of you it hurts for this to feel so casual, a loving interaction with Katsuki of all people. It feels like some sick trick of betrayal but your eyes are burning onto his skin while your world moves in slow motion. A hand on his cheek isn't as harmful as the addition of another one, yet you still go for that choice, dry lips inevitably set onto pale pink skin, pressing a soft kiss of comfort. "We could go at that spot, near UA, we used to go there a lot when we were high schoolers" Katsuki's words are calm and collected, hidden between gritted teeth so he can appear like his chest is fuller than yours, but what you don't know is that his heart is trying to beat out of his chest, like it's the most secretive, harsh prison. He briefly wonders if by knowing so, you'll hurt as much as him. But your kiss on his forehead, the warm place in which he rests face against your chest it all points to you feeling the same- it's there and he can read every single sign, whether he wants to deny them or not. "Should I get dressed?" A grunt this prolonged means yes. And truth be told the set and scenery of this small driving outlet is almost idyllic; a silent car ride, tainted faces and the gloomy watery corners of one's eyes to match the pouring rain, the slow, mellow music matching in beats with the squeaky wipers. What a perfect, diligent harmony you've got. It feels like a cut to another scene in a slow paced movie. The time is still stuck at 8.15, signifying how it wasn't long ago that you were starting to drown in a pool of bargaining -and voicing it out loud- and a part of you is still sad for thinking that maybe, for Katsuki, you're a coping mechanism. A full rembrandt of what's left of

Izuku's that he doesn't want to give up. You keep wondering if that would be the case had he still been alive. Would he ever have such an attitude stored inside of him for you had you not been dating Izuku on what now counts as ancient history? He parks his car on a narrow little road that splits the woods in half and turns the engine off. Seeing that it's November already, you think about how this is a bad idea, you know how cold he gets, and he's not wearing any jacket but you keep it to yourself. Perhaps, had Izuku been here, he would have brought an extra jacket too. For now, it's foggy windows and died down warm breaths. Thus, with a quivering lip you settle lower into your seat and sigh. "I- I know you like stargazing" He coughs, vermillion eyes pacing back and forth between you and the rain that's clashing on the car's glass "and I got an app and a window on the roof of my car" "But it's raining" "Who caaaares!" He grunts when you pout and turns away from you, something that makes your stomach coil abrasively. You want him to look at you, you want him to- As ridiculous and bitter as it sounds, you're tired of asking yourself if any of this would be happening were Izuku still here. Because he's got a stupid little fucking app on his phone for you. Because you're dying to press your lips onto his skin again. Half an hour ago feels like an eternity has passed already. He cares about you enough to open the app -and switch the location of his phone on- and that's more than enough actually. You glue your eyes to the bright screen and follow it as it pops us with a dark window, asking for confirmation that it's authorized to use the camera of Katsuki's phone. A part of you sinks in the silent death of love at the thought that, yes, he downloaded this just for you. Joy in little things, you figure, is what keeps you grounded, it's what ultimately pushes you to rest your head on his shoulder as he lifts his phone up, facing it on the small opening on the roof of his car. "Can't see past all this water, dammit" "So?" You coo, and the previous small irritation in his voice dies down with a grunt that comes from the depths of his chest. "The app's fine. Feels just like stargazing." You've never done anything similar with Izuku. And there's not even a spec of comparison clouding over your head, despite the guilt that settles in your stomach once again. Looking up to Katsuki, you can see his jaw tensing in the slightest, most probably in pain -you wonder, does his wound still ooze- and you can't help but feel like your eyes are stinging. You sniffle nonetheless. And Katsuki retreats his shoulder, letting your head hang without support as he turns to you. "Maybe, even if we can't see them, they're still there and-" You purse your lips to the side of your cheek, thinking of a reply, anything to say to make his words seem like they've come out of his mouth. "You've turned into quite the poet lately, haven't you?" Your answer should be that no, he hasn't, he's just hurt and confused, numb and afraid, but in turn you're all those things as well, or so he speculates by looking in your eyes. Because he can read people, he can read you, and as much as this has been established, he can't find it in him to speak a word on it. Then again, what's the point in holding anything in if you're going to die one day? The life of a hero is expendable, he's got his rise and fall as number one set in stone, so why should he hold back? He can't bring Izuku back even if he wants to, and he can't possibly stop himself from feeling for you. He remembers finding salvation in holding Izuku down and apologizing. He now finds humility in words that are spoken from his mouth that slip past his consciousness. "I love you- Don't care if it's fucking raining or not- Fuck" There's no time for you to think of a response before he throws a fit; his phone is slammed on the backseat, rocketing to the floor, and the click of his door is heard before he steps out of the car and slams it shut. He's lucky- the rain covers most

of the scream that he let's out and fills the buzzing void in your chest, your head. He said the words first, and your head is pulling you instinctively to your right, just where he was a few moments ago, you want to see if he's facing you, you long to feel your eyes meet his. You manage to collect the only ever courage you have left and push the thought of Izuku away from your mind, click your door open and shoot out of the car. Just like him. Like you're his echo. "Don't say a fucking word" He dismisses your open mouth, as if he can hear your breath clearer than this deafening rain, but you're not having it. "But i- i" "Shut up, as if you know-" "But I feel the same way" You whisper "What" He yells, and you scream at him to get back in the car, so you can talk, clearer. Though when he does, he's burning his eyes on your lips, then your eyes, then he never makes any move towards you, as if everyone and anything is on you. But none of you takes the bigger leap towards each -justified, because there's trembling in your movements and hesitation in your heads. And then your lips meet his. Tenderly, painfully, religiously Your first kiss is cursed by numbing ache, but it feels so right, like the warmest summer evening, or the most hazing bonfire during a cold winter night. Regret can't eat you alive for that one. And Katsuki, even with his lips still pressed against yours knows he will think about this kiss as a sin and a betrayal for far too long, he knows it'll torment him through the darkness of whatever tonight could mean. If only he gets through this night, he'll be fine Tomorrow you'll wake him up with a soft "how'd you sleep'' again and he'll be fine. The void and guilt inside his chest will get filled up with the warmness of being embraced first thing in the morning. Perhaps in time he'll convince himself that Izuku would never mind what's going on between the two of you, if you're meant to be endgame.

iv. depression | 12.07 am

Soft bubbles that smell like carnation and the auburn flicker of the fire that shines on top of a plethora of candles set the atmosphere for this evening. The lack of bright light -being that the whole city has been in a black out for several hours- is gentle to yours and Katsuki's eyes. What should have been matched with some of the artificial warmth the heater next to the bathtub, that should be providing for the two of you. Instead, it's him that keeps the temperature high.

Your muscles hurt and his wounds ache, as always, after a tiring day of hero work. You guess that's your daily nature; after hours and hours of overworking your body and soul, two people like you only get to spend the little time they have together like this. Late at night, curled up against each other, borderline sleeping in a bathtub. You're sure the water has a pinkish red tint to it -somewhere, a wound of his or yours is bleeding more that you'd like to believe is natural.

Katsuki is unbothered to check who's wounds are worse.

For the first time in a while, his mouth isn't dry, or chapped, a killer to his heart, for he can't find the right choice of words to spell to you. He should be fine with having you curled up against his chest, but somewhere along the way he finds it hard to experience the warmth he's trying to emit. And he thinks he finds your response to this unspoken mind trick when he cups your hands with his, checking at your fingers. Not a single prune or puckered line to clasp a non indifferent reaction from the back of his brain.

He's content with the way time seems to have stopped, trapping you in a moment filled with cold granite tiles and blood spoiled water that smells like lavender. In a movement he abandons your hands, watching them float over his. You hum -it's warm and welcoming, as if you're saying you're content too- and rest the back of your head to the crook of his neck.

His only reply is to nuzzle his nose into your neck as well. Placing a tiny kiss to the skin against his lips, tangling his fingers through your wet hair.

Small reassuring acts of

love with nothing special into them help you relax completely into him. "Kinda nice that you can see the stars so bright tonight" If you're looking for a cynical answer, then Katsuki's ever your man. "Of course they'd show when it's pitch black outside. What'd ya expect?" With your eyes glued to the glass ceiling for a long while you wonder, what did you expect really? Words that spiral in your brain are always spoken, leaving you numb and inquiring, searching for an answer in the deepest curves of your brain. When burning your eyes into his will never work, he decides to let his gaze melt holes in the vast of his bathroom windows. The beauty of minimalism leaves him cold and lonely, as if there's facelessness in the black veil of the sky that mimics the inside of his home. He curls into you by pressing you against his chest tighter. You never ask him why his bathroom is built the way it is -with that little corner window in the ceiling, neither does he know what he'd answer to you were you ever in a position to. He doesn't know how to apologize for being who he is, or his that window makes him feel like he used to be assured and secured on what was assigned to him by birth. (His parents’ money, a strong quirk.) He doesn't know how to apologize for still living in traits of his life that could make you feel like he's been everything but fair to Izuku. And all you probably think about, he convinces himself is that It'd be ironic to say that you mind having a view of the stars while having a midnight bath. It's a full moon tonight too -the glowing sky orb floating just above the furthest line of the horizon, illuminating the sky. And you, with your eyes shut by now and facing the glass ceiling, seem like you feel the weight of the moon pulling you in. What Katsuki knows for sure is that you have a terrible migraine that has you frowning horrendously. It's because of the fool moon, you'll say when the blond asks you why you're suffering, it always gives you migraines and he'll sit by you as you're making him his bath, holding your hand while he asks you to join him. He's nothing but a lover of roughness and void, he doesn't know how you're still with him, or how you ever fell for him. He feels slow, like a worn out tire, washed to a shore by the sea. But his hands, calloused and sculpted harshly even only by the -not so many- years of being a pro, aid to your comfort, not in his need to be a hero -more like, in his need to be human, or not feel inadequate, to not feel like his life is a pit of guilt because Izukus is over. And it has been for a long time. And his, is taking turns so abruptly that his gut churns and pleads. Two bulky thumbs run over your eyebrows, smoothing the short coarse hair and soothing the bone, swooning the sore pain away; it feels like custom made heaven, sweet and fluffy, and the water in the bathtub won't get cold, nor will his hands. You're so relaxed into him, bones turned into jelly and skin tingling at his touch. Every circle he's rubbing on your forehead is releasing tension you didn't know you had piled up. The soft splashes of water are merely inaudible when compared to his heartbeat, but you can't feel it. Not yet. It's not tense enough for him to feel like his heart is beating out of his chest. "You any better?" Cold. Brutal. Almost as if his hands belong to someone else, but that's Katsuki for you, or anyone else as a matter. You turn your head to him, wearing a tiny, worn out smile as you lean you mean into him, clashing your lips over his, bumping your nose to his cupid's bow when you're done. Katsuki, you're sure, closes his eyes in a feeling that doesn't seem pleasant and you do the most expected thing -retreat. It hurts; watching you slip away, turn your head to face the stars outside of his window, wiggle your body away from his, to collect your knees and press them against your chest. It's devastating how a small denial to a kiss can harm you in such a way. It's either his fault, or yours. Because somewhere deep inside his head he's convinced

himself he's a rebound. Someone you'll get over when you start getting better. And he's probably convinced himselfhes viewing you in this way, somehow. "You could have at least kissed me back" You whisper, shivering. The water is cold, finally, it was so nice while the warmth washed over your skin. Almost like a lie. "I-" He huffs, buries his head into his wet palms. He can't speak, for if he does, the crack in his voice, the high pitch of it, will snitch on his torment. He tries to shove it away, when he shoots his hands to your direction, trying to pull you into him again. When it doesn't work, you swear you see the corners of his eyes sparkle just a tad. It's alienating, when you've seen him cry and have numerous break downs, more times than you've seen him smile or laugh, you feel like you're foreign to the slight emotion that gathers in his eyes, now forming a pit, never spilling down the harsh lines of his cheeks. The moment a salty streak appears on his skin, you can help but wonder, what would happen if only you could stop your own tears from falling. You can't ask him to talk to you, it's more than obvious. You're deprived of any logical sentence forming mechanism in your brain, knees like jelly, arms heavy as two whole buildings in the verge of collapsing. One word of his and your heart will unleash all the ache that gathers slowly in your throat. "'M not just here cause Izuku died" There you go, not once, but seven times, feeling your heart pierce holes in your body, hanging from his every word, cursing yourself when you grasp his meaning. Wild and unleashed and raw, a plea, an inquiry. A way of masking his insecurity and it's your fault he's feeling this way. "You're not," You start, lost and perplexed "I love y-" But it does down faster than you would have wanted it. You turn your head away from him for a second. With the moon so high, and the city lights non existent, you can distinguish the Taurus constellation, just below the moon, and so very faint. Your throat is tight, your neck is sore, your voice won't come out -you wonder why astrology is right about Taurus controlling the throat- and you don't know how to make him feel good about himself. If only you can show him the constellation he'll be fine, right? Do zodiac constellations make him as excited as they make you? Or is that just a role he's taken upon himself to stick with you? His lips clash with yours, water splashing around you as he shifts, and he hugs you close to him. It's your cue, to close your eyes and move your lips in sync. Its a sullen form of desire, that dangerous one, where you get his lips to bleed from how hard you bite down onto his lip and twist and pull and clash him into you again because you can't get enough. You tell yourselves you have to live for this present, even if the past makes it unbearable. Just when your hearts feel like they'll jump out of your chests and dissolve into the lavender smelling bubbles, this time painting the water in a deep carmine, you clash your chest to his and he feels as if, he's wanted, here and now, even if the feeling won't last for long. And then it's hands that roam bruised skin, fingers than dig into softness or thick muscle, fingernails that dig into scalps painfully, until they draw blood as your teeth clash. It's passion, and only in the way your hips ghost over his, swaying in the water, as he's grunting "see, am kissing you back" and "We'll never be clean at this rate" "I'll massage your head when we're done" You breathe, pulling back for a second, as he sucks a spot on your neck, handling your back just to press your chest to his face. "Fuck, I love yo-" You shush him with your mouth on his, forehead sticking to his when a slit on your nose gets smashed when it scrunches against his cheek. He doesn't have to say it, you don't have to hurt him like this. It almost doesn't matter -the cold- when he pulls you to the edge of the bathtub and buries himself into you, you simply shiver by the way his thumb rubs your clit, thrusting your hips in rhythm to

meet his. And he bites on to your collar bones, eyes teary and heart heavy after he lets you set the pace, occasionally thrashing into your touch, his gut churning more and more as you go. It's only when he takes matters into his own hands -lifting you and pressing your back again the wall, putting out some candles I'm the process- hand on your face to shove some hair away, and legs wrapped securely around him that you both find release. Screaming in agony, crying in what could be mistaken for pain, sticking your foreheads together as your breaths tingle into one hot huff of air that travels up and way from you. You lock eyes with him, just before he lets his body collapse into the water, limbs numb and sore. "Please don't leave too." You whisper, sinking down just behind him, fetching for the shampoo bottle from behind you. He doesn't respond. Instead, he mimics you and rests his head on the crook of your neck, eyeing you backwards, pressing his lips into an upwards line. You're not sure you'll be able to get over this void soon, and you can't help but plead. Later, as you're washing through his hair, you show him the Taurus constellation and his eyes beam like a child's when he says "hey I'm a Taurus" all while tending trying to tend for the bite that he left on your shoulder. He doesn't ask to find the cancer constellation. You don't remember where to find it. The moon is too bright for you to even try.

v. acceptance | 6.59 am

The last rembrand of a star shines in a portrait of purples and oranges. The beautiful afterglow of the previous night, the first ray of sun washes its shine away, almost entirely, before a second can come. To paint the sky in blues, sprinkle the marine shade as to spoil the darkness' leftovers.

The night star, or morning star, tolerates a third, then forth ray of sunlight, and your watery eyes flicker at the scene, your head curling deeper into Katsuki's chest, humming as his hand wraps tighter around you, rubbing frantically over your skin to create some friction. It's only then that you're reminded how beautiful warmth is.

Your ear is cold -after Katsuki's doing while playing with the roots of your hair- and you tuck it under a few strands, instantly noticing the difference in temperature. Katsuki is cold as well, shivering slightly even with the blanket that's wrapped around the two of you. You can't help but wish that you were in bed, curled in a blanket cocoon, sleeping in the most sappy, eerie way.

But spending the night at the beach in early September night's has been a favorite activity of yours for the past few years. Long gone are the July nights spent in agony at the beach in Musutafu, nights that have allowed you to know Katsuki like the back of your hand. You can't take them back, replace them with memories of a happier process of getting to know him. You're not sure he wants to do that too.

He yawns slightly, squishing your head under his elbow to rub his tired eyes, breaking the loudsy inhale to chuckle at your pretend squirming. Avoiding your hair as to not hurt you while scratching the stubble hair on his cheeks -flinching slightly at it- before he moves your hair away from your ear, laughing trumphically at his doing.

"Nooo, I'm cold"

He chuckles again, running the tips of his fingers through your hair and tapping his palm over your ear. "Better now?"

"Katsu!"

You smile into his chest, trying to muffle your giggles, deciding to cook into him further.

His heart might as well burst. He thinks to himself that this is more than something he could have asked for, years of putting the effort in being with you awarding him in moments like this. Moments where he can see Venus shine faintly in the sky, feeling blessed by the planet of love as he places kisses to the top of your head.

I'm times like these, it's hard to look back and remember he used to beat himself over trying to convince himself he was drawn to you only because Izuku died. It feels like there's more behind it. Some karmic pull, some aligned stars, fates arranged in such a way that

you were meant to end up in this moment. Even if none of this is true and he's lost in superstitial bullshit, trying to explain things with something that bears no resemblance to simple logic, he figures there aren't any fresh wounds in his body. Time has flown since the last time he caught himself bathing in his own blood, but he's not reckless any more -neither are you- he doesn't go tormenting himself with wounds that will take long to heal. He can't remember times that have been tougher than this. But he's attached to the warm sand, moist still from the night's angry chill, so much that he slips one hand out of the blanket and sinks it low into the ground. It's so pleasant that he doesn't feel the ground pulling him in, or down. He's got a heart that will withstand his will to get up any time he wants to, and a pair of legs that will at his command, a chest that heaves with breaths while you're showering him with kisses. He won't get to spend an eternity like this, not even as many years as he thinks will be enough for him to enjoy this, but he's figured that there's eternity hinged in every moment, of taking care of yourself before you take care of someone else, so you don't hurt others around you. He's surprised with how much he's changed; he is aware that change is inevitable, through all the compromises that he's had to not condemn, all the soft words he's forced himself to say to you, to himself, to the point he's become softer, mellowed. Knowing he'd never forgive himself if he came to lose you to his grief. "We should get up, I'm sure Mina and Ochaco will be freaking at this point." He chuckles, hiding his tongue in the back of his mouth, as if to fish for a reply. "Kirishima and Denki will-" "Let the fuckers do as they wish, it's my wedding day, I decide when I show up. I can't with this enthusiasm" "Oh my god" You fake gasp, clapping your mouth "this is it? You're not going to marry me? You've lost your spark? Oh me. Oh my, whatever do I do?" You laugh, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he's laughing too, ruffling your hair in the messiest way he can imagine "There, now your hair is unfixable and I get to say it's you who left me at the altar" You burst out in giggles as you're trying to get up -efforts wasted in vain, because he's pulling you back onto him, for a kiss, one that makes your lips feel like cotton candy that slowly melts away, fuzzily yet so watery and with such delicacy. He gets up soon after you, folding the blanket neatly -too neatly- only pausing to take in the moment. Blue blotch after blue blotch is flooding the sky, almost every hint of purple gone, giving in to that warm tangerine light of the early sun. Katsuki sighs and you link your arms around his elbow. Content, happy. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't much of those himself. There's nothing holding him back. And so, he guesses, this is goodbye. The official one. Not melded with an apology, not fueled by regret. It's a silky woven letting go. There are no tears left for him to shed, there's no more trembling to violently shake your body awake at night. There's nothing but good in the memory of Izuku. Not even the subtle wish for him to be here, and happy with you. As the bright, starry light of Venus is outshone by the sun, he places another kid to the top of your head. "I'll see you at 5" "I'm going to be fashionably late" You argue, turning around to wield your hands around his neck and almost linking your lips to his. "Don't you fucking dare" He kisses you "Or what? You'll blow everyone to pieces?" He kisses you again, then again, then once more. "Might as well" And that's Katsuki for you, even in the calmer, softer version of himself. The personification of the twilight hours, even if he's going to bed at 10pm, wiggling his feet under the covers until you join him. He's the only reason you're still sane and you won't ever lose him. He won't lose you, in return.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha #bakugou #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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necromancers-incorporated · 3 years ago

Text

What if Steve Rogers was Percy Jackson reincarnated?

Idea was sent to me by @michellethaliadrottingu, absolutely love this idea and all its parallels!

It started very simply. An offhand comment made by Tony, one of his usual snide remarks. However, silence that followed wasn't because of his joke, but was because of Steve. He didn't even know what he was saying before it just slipped out.

Di immortalis.

He had never said that before, never even heard of it for that matter. Everyone shot him a concerned glance before Tony laughed and brushed it off to Steve's great relief. He laughed it off too, but the unease had already settled into the back of his mind, and there it waited for the right time to claw its way further into his mind.

The second incident happened about a month later. He had tripped and stubbed his toe and cursed.

Bruce looked at him, confused, and said, "I didn't know you spoke Greek."

An ill feeling settled over Steve, a cold dread around his chest. He tried to ignore it, push it away. Maybe he had picked it up somewhere, or perhaps he had read it and forgotten until that moment. The unsettled feeling in his stomach wouldn't leave.

A third 'moment', as he had come to call them, happened not even two weeks after his strange cursing. He had been training with Nat and she had tried to punch him in the chest, but in a matter of instinct he flipped her and she was on her back. If he tried to think back to how he did it his mind came up blank. He had no memory of ever learning to fight like that.

As time went on, more 'moments' kept happening more often. They were flashes of half formed dreams and nightmares, monsters and demons and death. Memories. Steve kept wondering if he had gone insane, if after everything he had been through he had finally cracked from the pressure. Some nights he would wake up drenched in sweat, half sleeping, monsters at the foot of his bed, reaching for him.

Aches and pains plagued his waking hours. Injuries he did not remeber getting. Particularly along his back and shoulders, but why on earth it would hurt there he had no clue.

It didn't take too long for the others to guess that something wasn't right. Natasha was the first to approach him about it. She asked if he was okay, if something was bothering him, and he had come clean. Getting it off his chest had felt good, but the look on Nat's face made him worry. He had never seen her look so...scared.

Eventually, he'd had enough. Enough of the faces with no names, of the memories, of the falling and the drowning every night. He got tired, and scared, and everything made him jump. Steve could think of only one person who had any chance of actually helping him, who could tell him if he was crazy or not.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked sharply on the door. Wanda's head peered round the edge, and she smiled and opened it wider. They weren't exactly friends, but at least, he thought, she wouldn't immediately assume he was crazy.

"Steve, how nice of you to visit," she joked, but then stopped when she saw the look in his eyes, the desperation. He smile faded, and she stepped aside so he could enter.

Taking a seat on her bed, he let his head fall into his hands. Was he really going to do this? To ask her for this kind of help?

"What is wrong, Steve?" she asked tentatively, sitting next to him.

He shook his head. "I don't know, Wanda," he began, trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking. "I keep seeing these...things, these people. I keep having these nightmares all the time, I can't, they won't let me sleep." He sighed again, already feeling the tears welling in his eyes.

Wanda only nodded for him to continue.

"I don't know what to do," he went on, raising his head to meet her eyes. "I thought that, with your powers..."

"You thought I could see what was going on? Stop them?" she finished for him.

All Steve could do was nod. Part of him felt ashamed, for asking so much of the younger girl, especially after she had been through so much already, but how could he go on if he was getting ten minutes of sleep a night?

"Please," he whispered, voice barely above a whisper.

Again, Wanda nodded, but hesitated as she raised her hands. She looked at Steve, asking for permission, and then proceeded.

It felt like he was back in one of his nightmares. Water, flying above New York, camp fires and singing, stars, a dead girl at his feet with someone crying next to him, boats and monsters and demons chasing him, a sword in one hand, a shield in the other. Someone was calling him, but it wasn’t his name.

He came out of Wanda’s trance with a gasp, and noticed with great embarrassment how sweaty he had become. In front of him, Wanda’s eyes were wide, but not with fear.

“It is not you that you are seeing,” she said quietly. “But at the same time it is. He is a boy, and he is everything you are and not.” She faltered, searching for the right words. “He has - no, had, a life. It was yours, but it is not anymore.” Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you saying, Wanda?” he pleaded, desperation creeping back into his voice. “Is there any way to end it?”

“Yes.” She paused and took a breath. “But I would not recommend it, Steve. These memories...they could be there for a reason.”

“No,” he growled, much more forcefully than he had intended to. “Whoever that is, that’s not me. Please, just make it so I won’t have to see them again, those people. If they’re there for a reason we can dig them back up but not now.”

Wanda relented. “Fine, but do not say that I didn’t warn you.” She raised her hands again, red spilling from the tips of her fingers, and everything faded to black.

Rest, at last.

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

Apologies that this took forever. I’ve been working on some of my own writing and school got really busy after when I got back from travelling. Lots of other stuff too, but I hope you like it lol.

#pjo #avengers #long post #steve rogers #percy jackson #writing prompt

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Visiting Hemlock-Dream

This is a Dream x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! Small thing, hemlock is another type of poison. It is actually the poison that the Greek philosopher Socrates was forced to consume after he was found guilty in his trail.

Masterlist here

This is a part two to Sweet as Cyanide (here), so if you haven’t read that yet you can check it out . Don’t worry. I’ll wait…..

All good? Okay here we go!

Y/N is finally able to visit Dream in prison.

Y/N’s POV

“Are you sure about this? You know no one would blame you if you never wanted to see him again,” Niki questioned, a soft hand resting on my shoulder. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes and scoff. Instead, I settled for a fake shy smile and a small head nod, “I know Nik. But I really want to see him. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help it,” I explained, hoping desperately she would leave it at that. Niki gave me a pitiful smile as she nodded, giving my arm a tight squeeze. “I know what you mean… I’ll be right here when you get out,” She assured, wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug before taking a few steps back. “Thanks Niki. I’ll see you in a bit,” I claimed softly before turning toward the prison. I took a deep breath before making my way to the entrance.

I let out a deep breath as I reached up and pressed the button, letting Sam know I was there. A noise sounded letting me know I could enter and pass through the grid. I was greeted by Sam at his desk. “Hey Y/N” Sam greeted me, holding a stack of papers. “Hey Sam,” I greeted back, my eyes scanning around the place. “This looks really nice,” I complimented the warden on his build. “Thank you!” He beamed, handing the papers he held to me. “These are just waiver you need to sign. They basically say that you release the prison from all responsibility if you get hurt and that that responsibility falls on the prisoner you are visiting.” He explained, handing me a pen. I hummed and quickly scanned the documents before signing them.

Sam quickly took them and tucked them away in his desk before standing up and moving out from behind the desk. “Alright. We’re good to move on.” I followed him out of the room and into a room full of chests. “Please put all your things in this chest here,” He asked, motioning to a chest near the door. I gave him a nod before quickly emptying my inventory. Once I was done, I turned and proved to Sam that there was nothing left on my person. Sam gave me a smile and a nod before we moved on once more.

My excitement grew as we walked down the path I had only been down once before. My hands seemed to shake at the sight of the lava wall that hid my boyfriend from my view. “Hey, if you’re too nervous to do this, you can turn back around. You don’t have to see him,” Sam comforted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. He was taking my excitement as nerves… good. I took a deep breath and gave him a shy smile, “I’m okay Sam, really. I want to see him,” I assured the tall man. “Okay… Do you want me to stay here with you or go back to the cams?” Sam questioned, still unsure if he should leave me alone with ‘the monster’. “You can go watch on the cams. I’ll be fine, even if something were to happen you could be back here in a flash,” I claimed with a small smile.

Sam gave me a small nod, “Alright, here you go.” Sam reached over to the wall and pressed the button that controlled the lava. Slowly, the lava stopped falling, revealing my love. I felt my breath catch in my throat at the sight of the blonde boy that had my whole heart. The iron bars fell allowing me free access to Dream. Sam gave me a pat on the back before he disappeared out the door.

I wasted no more time and ran to Dream. A smile, a real smile, formed on his face as I raced toward him. Our bodies crashed together with the swift motion, my arms wrapping around his neck, his around my waist. I squeezed him tightly as I buried my face in his neck. I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes and onto his skin. “I missed you so much bub,” I cried into his neck. “Shhh, love,” he murmured, rubbing one hand up and down my back, holding me close.

“I missed you too. I’ve been so lonely here. I’ve missed your sweet words, your gorgeous face. I miss waking up next to you every morning. I love you so much,” he muttered into my ear, pressing a kiss to my temple. His words shocked me a bit. Yes, I love Dream and he loves me, but he almost never acted like this. “I’ve missed everything about you. I miss your kisses and cuddles. I miss the way you’d threaten everyone for even looking at me in the wrong way. I’ve missed going to sleep next to you, cuddling and waking up the same way. I love you so much too,” I muttered back.

Dream pulled away slightly, just enough to face me before crashing his lips into mine. My eyes fluttered closed as I completely melted into the kiss and into my boyfriend. I missed my love so much. I missed feeling his lips on mine. His gentle touches, his sweet smiles, his manipulation of everyone around us. He’s mine and I am his, no matter what and no matter where.

Dream was the one to pull away from our kiss. “God I’ve missed that,” He announced, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t help but giggle and return the grin, “I’ve missed that too.” Dream slowly unwrapped himself from me, but quickly reached out and took my hand. He walked me over to his bed. He let go of my hand before sitting down on his bed, resting his back against the wall. I raised my eyebrow at his actions but he simply patted his lap telling me to sit down. I giggled and rolled my eyes at the action, but obeyed. I quickly moved my legs so that there was one on either side of his thighs and I sat on his lap. Once again, my arms moved to wrap around his neck and his came to wrap around my voice.

“So,” Dream began once we got settled, “How’s it going out in the free world?” Dream asked, teasingly. I could tell that he was both asking about the server, but was also making a joke about the fact everyone thought that I was now ‘free’ from his control. “It’s all fine, I guess. You were right. Everyone began coddling me the second that prison door slammed behind me. I’ve been staying with Niki because they think going back to our house is too painful for me,” I informed Dream, who simply scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“The more important thing though,” I started, lowering my voice a lot as to not have it picked up by the cameras, “I can’t get a hold of Technoblade. No one has seen him, or at least not that they’re telling me. I went to his house and he wasn’t there, I went to Phil’s house and he said he hadn't seen him. But I’ll keep looking. I’m going to get you out of here.” I promised my boyfriend quietly. Dream’s brow furrowed, “That’s really odd. Especially since Philza hasn’t seen him… He must remember he owes me that favorite. But you have my full trust, love. I know you’ll make me proud.”

My heart swelled at his words. It was so comforting to hear that. Even though weeks ago, he promised me it wasn’t my fault he was here, I could help but still feel guilty about it. Especially because I had to pretend that I was happy he was gone. I didn’t respond with words, instead leaning forward and pressing my face into the side of his neck and pressing a small kiss there. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

The rest of the time we spent together was in that position. I told him about all the new structures that were being built around the server. I told him about how everyone was working together but there was definitely still some tension. Dream didn’t seem surprised at that at all. Dream told me about his days at the prison. He had a small clock gifted to his by Sam. He admitted to me that he would sometimes throw his clock out of his cell into the lava so Sam would come in and bring him a new one, allowing Dream to have some form of human contact. He got three meals a day, but he claimed none have ever been good as my cooking, that made me blush. Dream spent most of his day thinking about me and the things he would be doing if he wasn’t locked up. He kept a little journal in order to keep himself sane.

In a much quieter tone, Dream also told me of the little things he’s noticed about the prison. How the lava always takes a few seconds before it begins its descent. Dream told me he knew that the redstone sometimes would misfire and Sam would have to take the time to fix it. Sometimes it only took a few minutes but there were also times he’d be gone for many hours. Dream also spoke of where he thinks the elder guardian that causes mining fatigue was being held. I listened very carefully to what he was telling me. Sam is an excellent builder, even better engineer, but nobody was perfect and it sounds like to me that Dream was slowly but surely finding Pandora’s Achilles heel.

It felt so good to be in Dream’s arms again though, even in this circumstance. In the many years we’ve been dating, I’ve never been away from Dream for that long before and it was really hard. Which explains why I was so excited for this visit… But alas, all good things must come to an end.

“Times up Y/N…” Sam called softly from the platform behind us. I looked over my shoulder and gave the man a nod in acknowledgement. I turned back to Dream, leaned forward and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “Goodbye my love,” I whispered to the blonde man, tears threatening to fall again from my eyes. A smile appeared on his lips, “Goodbye love,” He returned at the same level. I slowly got off of my boyfriend and walked away from Dream. Once I was out of the cell, I turned back around to face Dream, who had also stood up from his bed “I’ll be back soon,” I promised the blonde boy who remained in his cell. A small chuckle left his lips as the iron bars enclosed him once more, “I’ll be here.”

With that, I took a few more steps back to stand next to Sam. I gave my boyfriend a small wave as Sam pressed the button to make the lava begin pouring from the ceiling. I could see Dream's sad smile as he waved back at me and then he was gone.

“You okay?” Sam asked gently, a hand resting on my shoulder. “Yeah,” I sniffed, reaching up and wiping at my eyes, “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you for letting me see him,” I thanked, changing the topic. Sam gave me a soft look as he nodded, “Of course. You’re always welcome to come back. I can even show you around to other rooms if you ever want.” I nodded at his words. “That sounds really cool. I’d love to see them. I’d love to see this whole place,” I told him as cooly as I could. The one thing I could not do right now was raise suspicion. “When we get back to the front desk we can set a time and date!” He offered cheerfully. Once again I nodded, this time a bright smile beaming across my face. “I’d like that.

I couldn’t help but mentally chuckle at the situation though. I don’t know why after all this time everyone still thinks I’m just so sweet and innocent. Sam offering to show me around like a father would show his child around his work place on bring your kid to work day simply confirmed that thought even more. Little does he know how hard it’s going to bite him in the butt. I’m going to get my boyfriend out of this Pandora’s Vault…. If it’s the last thing I do.

There you go! I hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like! Maybe even reply or a reblog?

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt one shot #mcyt x reader #dream #dreamwastaken #dream imagine #dream one shot #dreamwastaken imagine #dream x reader #dreamsmp #dream smp #dreamsmp imagine #dream smp imagine #ray writings #ray ray writings #ray-ray-writings #visiting hemlock #requested

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mingkii · 3 years ago

Text

LOVE AGAIN ─✎ 송.민기

❖❳；Pairing; Song Mingi x Fem!Reader (ft. P1h's keeho, itzy's ryujin, and wooyoung)

❖❳；Genre; Greek mythology au, angst, reincarnation au.

❖❳；Words ; 6.2k

❖❳；Warnings; Mentions of death.

❖❳；Synopsis; A mission to find your lover who was reborn in the mortal world became a mission for heartbreak as you watched him fall in love with someone else.

❖❳；A/n; I honestly don't know what happened near the end, very disappointing but oh well. Not very proud of this so im sorry and don't get your hopes up.

❖❳； Note; My entry for @/sleepylixie and @/delicatewerewolfsoul 's hamartia collab. This might contain inaccurate representations of greek gods but for the sake of the story, just go with it. Slightly modernized as well.

The sun rises on the horizon, casting light all over Olympus, waking the gods in slumber, reminding them of the work they need to do. However, you wanted to fight the sun for rising so early. The rays piercing through the depths of the ocean, just enough to peek through the windows of your room.

You stir under the covers, not wanting to get up. The light blinding your closed eyes, preventing you from going back to sleep. You were honestly hoping you won't wake up the next day. You didn't want to wake up in agony knowing there's nothing to wake up to. You still picture his crescent eyes when he smiles, his laugh that echoes in your ears as if he is there with you. His hands that felt soft and warm left a mark on your skin, reminding you of how he held you in his arms.

Every night you see him in your dreams— for a while at least. Your heart was hurt, it wanted to remind you of all the things you could've done, but it knew that if you kept dreaming about him, you would have died grieving years ago.

A loud knock on your door suddenly erupted, a groan escaped your lips. You rolled to the other side trying to bury your head under the covers to drown out the sound. Then, your door busted open, making you sit up in surprise.

"What the fuck," you furrowed your brows, watching your father fix the dislocated door hinge.

"Don't use such language on me, young lady," he leans his trident beside the door. "You have a very important schedule to meet your suitors today."

Your eyes widen, "Suitors?!" You shrieked, your father's face contorts.

“Father, I think this has gone long enough for you to know that I am not interested.” he let out a sigh. He’s well aware of that.

"Look, I understand, but I will not have you sulk for the rest of your life just because that good-for-nothing son of Athena died," your blood boiled at his words.

"No father, I don’t think you do understand," You said with resentment.

You tried to bury the tears back down, not wanting to cry in front of your father. The pent up anger made you want to lash out like what he said was the last straw but your pride was much stronger.

"It's rude to keep them in line, they've travelled far just to get here, so I suggest you make yourself presentable and be there as soon as possible," his last words before shutting your door closed behind him.

The knick-knacks on your shelf shook as your father slammed the door shut. He wasn't mad, he was just….strict, as your father and god of the sea, you are under his territory thus, giving you no choice but to follow him.

You laid back on your bed, pulling the covers, letting out a muffled scream into the blanket. Only kids get treated like this, he acts like you aren't already a hundred years old.

You didn't want to meet another batch of mermen with plastic smiles and fake personalities. They were only after you because of your title, daughter of Poseidon, god of the sea, with a legacy that soon passes unto you. You had sisters and brothers, you didn't understand why it had to be you, but Poseidon himself already had it all planned.

You swam near the big stadium-like structure, with large pillars that were carved so intricately in quartz. The end of the stadium planted Poseidon's throne where he sat so elegantly. You hid behind the pillars, spotting the men that were seated to the side, waiting for your arrival, but you already decided you weren't going to attend. Not this time.

You took the longest route to Olympus, making sure no one spots you, escaping the suffocating vast seas that used to be called home.

"You know one day I could get killed by your dad," Wooyoung set the teacups filled with hot liquid on the dining table where you sat.

It's been a while since you set foot on land, you didn't miss it, the painful after-effects of walking for too long did make you wonder how land dwellers live.

"He won't since I made him promise it," your cheeky smile made him roll his eyes.

"But won't he easily find you here?"

"He will but he couldn't be bothered to travel all the way here," you took a sip from the cup, hot liquid running down your throat.

"I'll be home by sundown, can't have him wash Olympus just to find me," you force out a laugh, wooyoung giving you a sympathetic look.

He knows you are still mourning. Deep inside you are still in pain, but you try to keep it hidden.

"You know, it's been years and he is still bringing me these men I barely even know and he wants me to pick one to marry?" You planted your forehead on the table, hiding your face in frustration. "It's getting annoying." After those annoying years of having to pretend you are ok and just sitting pretty in front of dozens of merpeople, making yourself look like a prize in a glass box waiting for a winner to take you home.

But of course, it's still your choice and you chose to be with none of them.

"Were any of them attractive at least?" You hear the familiar charming voice. You look up to see Wooyoung's mother— aphrodite— adorned in her usual attire, laced with gold sequences, a headpiece in gold, and jewellery that complimented her skin.

You shook your head as you gave her a soft smile, "They always have this forced appearance to look strong and the wide creepy smiles that they think will help attract me to them," she listens to your rant, pouting slightly, "What a shame, you know your father's taste was never that good," she winked. You knew she was talking about your mother, whom you didn't know that well since she is always focusing on your brothers.

"I thought you went out early," Wooyoung questioned. Aphrodite cupped her son's cheeks, kissing the top of his nose.

"I just forgot something dear," you giggled at her ways of babying her son. Fixing his hair and touching up the light makeup he puts on every day. You can't deny how attractive Wooyoung is, you could see the features that he inherited from his mother.

"Poseidon won't stop what he is doing though, I suggest you do as his wishes y/n, or you'll face his consequences," strips of memory to that day cross your mind again. It was truly painful to recall, it made your heart clenched and you wanted to scream your head off.

"Look, whatever it is you want to do, just make sure it isn't something stupid," Wooyoung held your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. You remembered the last stupid thing you did.

You were grateful to have met someone like Wooyoung, he has always been there for you. Even though your father had been skeptical of him for so long, he still let you be around him.

But you can't promise him this time because another stupid idea just popped up in your head.

"Are you kidding y/n? Didn't we just talk about this?" Wooyoung follows you from behind as you walk through the forest. The last time you were here was the day your world fell apart.

You swore to not cross paths where it reminded you of him but right now, it is important.

"Look, demigods are bound to be reincarnated, there's a chance I could see him again," you explained, stepping on sticks and pebbles, slashing through vines and large leaves with your bronze dagger. Mingi wasn't like you or wooyoung who had both parents that are gods. Like Athena, he was created by her from her mind. He wasn't born….normal.

"And then what? What will you do if you see him?"

In all honesty, you didn't plan that far, all you thought of was to meet mingi in the mortal world. Wooyoung's concern for you just became worse when the silence answers his question. You have no plan, you just wanted to see mingi again.

You ignored Wooyoung's continuous nagging until you reached your destination. The tree that grew sweet magical berries that can only be found deep in the forests of Olympus. The berry that could help the gods enter the mortal realm.

"Y/n…." Worry settles in, Wooyoung knows the side effects of these berries. You weren't as powerful as your parents who were able to visit the mortal realm on your own, you needed help and you were certainly not gonna ask your father.

"I'll be fine," you picked a few handfuls of berries and stuffed them in your bag, "Atlantis won't be that far, If I need to, I’ll just come back." You smiled at Wooyoung.

"I leave tomorrow."

"What about your dad? Won't he get mad?" You two made your way back out of the forest, taking the path of where you came from.

"I just told him I'm sleeping at your place for a while," Wooyoung freezes in place. As expected of his role as your best friend, he's responsible for covering you up.

"You owe me big time."

Arriving at the mortal realm, alone and slightly scared. But the sight of what seemed to be the city made you giddy all of the sudden.

You walked around exploring the beautiful structures of the city. Tall buildings surrounding the area, billboards, and giant screens with lights and flashing colours. You were overwhelmed at first but it was quite interesting. It was nothing like you have seen before.

There were tons of people who wore casual attire, some wore suits as they travelled to work. Big buses and cars drove by in the streets— you almost got run over by one, not knowing the purpose of the blinking traffic light; the horrendous sound of the car horn almost did make your ears bleed.

Settling down on one of the park benches, you took a break from walking. The sandals you brought weren't doing any justice for your feet.

Your surroundings were peaceful, pink flowers scattered across the concrete, different coloured leaves decorating the trees, getting ready for the fall season. Suddenly, you felt a gust of wind. The eerie grey smoke rising in front of you. Chills running up your spine, your mind having a clear idea of where it's coming from.

A cold mischievous laugh emitted from within, your initial reaction was to pull out the dagger from your side, clutching the handle tight until your knuckles turned white.

"Relax, it's me," the same annoying voice you dreaded hearing.

"Ryujin, what are you doing here?" You scowled. She was bad news— the spirit of mischief lives within her, wherever she goes, chaos follows.

"Hmm, are you not happy to see me?" Her Cheshire cat-like smile plastered onto her face as she took a seat beside you, crossing her leg on top of the other. Her hair was shorter than the last time you saw her, eyes still full of mischief.

"I was hoping to not see you again after the incident 20 years ago," you spat, hatred lacing your words.

"Right, the poor boy, died so soon," her face turned into a sad look before smiling once again.

Ryujin was the main cause of his death. Your father just made it happen. Leading Mingi to that place in the forest where she knew your father was there, he hated Athena's children, he wouldn't hesitate to kill one in sight.

You wished there was a way to go back in time to stop Ryujin from leading Mingi to his inevitable death. But as expected, she felt no shame or guilt whatsoever.

"What is it that you plan anyway, there is a reason for you to come here, right?"

You kept your mouth closed, not wanting to possibly give your plan away for the spirit of mischief to take its course. And so, you kept quiet. Ryujin clicked her tongue in annoyance. She wished she could read minds, but that's her brother's power.

"Fine, keep it to yourself," she stood up, grumbling something under her breath, "Just so you know, I am not leaving without having a bit of fun," another gust of wind blowing in your direction leaves swirling in a circle on the concrete just below her feet, the puff of smoke covering her figure as she disappeared.

Your mind was in shambles. Usually, she would try and pressure you into answering but she brushed it off so soon.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, the weight suddenly leaving your chest. Sometimes the presence of Ryujin gives you this uneasy feeling, but it was better than getting a visit from her brother. He is ten times worse.

You finally adapted to the mortal world, got a place to stay all by yourself. There were obstacles on the way but you got over them easily.

You lay quietly on the bed, and to be honest, it was a bit uncomfortable. The covers are placed over you up to your neck. You stared at the ceiling, counting rams in hopes of helping you fall asleep. And on your 1117th ram, your eyes finally grew heavy.

But to your dismay, your throat decides that it was parched. You sat up from your bed, wearing your slippers, and made your way to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it up with water, but before you could take a sip, you saw a figure on your couch.

You dropped the glass, shattering across the floor. The figure whipped his head around and you couldn't believe your eyes. Is this a dream? You must be dreaming… You might have even gone mad.

"Mingi?" You stuttered. You haven't called out that name in so long.

"Y/n, be careful you'll hurt yourself," he stood from the couch, making his way to you. You took a few steps back. Mingi's face shows a look of confusion.

He stepped on the glass unfazed by it. Did he not feel that? Of course, this is a dream, he's not real.

"What's wrong?" His arms out to reach for you.

"N-no, I'm dreaming, this can't be—" you shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. You felt warm hands cup your face, it was so real, your knees so close to giving out.

"What do you mean?" His eyes were the same shade of brown. His hair is styled the same way he always has it in.

"You're real?" Your voice croaked, mingi chuckled. The same smile you saw years ago, but as expected, his face started to fade. This is definitely a dream. It was impossible to have mingi physically there, you saw him….die, right in front of your eyes.

"Of course I'm real," his voice was soft, comforting even. You were really hearing his voice, this is his voice. He pressed his forehead against you, kissing the top of your nose promptly.

At this point, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You sobbed making mingi pull away and look at you with worry in his eyes.

"Please don't leave me again," you pleaded. You wished it was real, your chest grew even tighter. What kind of cruel punishment is this?

"Why would I leave?" He wiped the tear on your cheek. "I'll always be here," he said in reassurance as he pulled you in his embrace. You missed it so much—you missed him so much. The same warmth was still there, but it eventually started to feel cold. Like Hades was paying a visit to take him back to the underworld.

You finally got to see him again, even if it was only a dream, it really felt like he was there, body and soul present. You didn't want to let him go, there's no way you are losing him again.

His image starts to fade, you start to feel the emptiness again. His hold on your body began to feel like nothing, it was cold like ice. You tried to grip his shirt, keeping him from disappearing. You spewed out pleas, begging him to stay. At Least for a little longer.

But then you woke up, hot liquid running down your face.

You were crying, something you haven't done in a long while. Slapping your cheeks, making sure you were really awake.

"Come one y/n, it was just a dream," you said to yourself out loud.

20 years and you thought you were over him. But those agonizing years were torturous. Everything seemed to remind you of him. Wooyoung almost didn't see you for 18 years until you finally decided to visit him. You wouldn't know what to do if wooyoung was never in your life, you might as well have been asleep for the rest of your life.

The clamshell that sat on your bedside table glowed. It was a magic shell that sends messages back and forth in writing. You gave one to Wooyoung so you could communicate from a distance.

"Did you find him?" The letters glowed as they appeared.

"Not yet." you wrote back, watching the writings disappear indicating that he is reading it.

"Time is ticking y/n." Anxiety washes over you again. Soon the berries won't be enough to hold you there and you'll be needing to come back home.

"Y/n, you there?" A voice startled you, making you almost drop the shell. It would be bad if you did, it was a fragile thing, you could risk shattering it and won't have anything else to communicate with.

"In here!" You called out, quickly hiding the shell in the dresser.

"I brought lunch," mina smiled, holding up a paper bag filled with takeout.

The day you moved in, still exploring the apartment that you rented, you heard a knock on your door.

You peeked through the peephole. A woman stood in front of the door patiently, short brown hair— half of it tied into a ponytail— dressed in a leather jacket and denim pants. She looked about 20, maybe 21 but she doesn't look older than 25.

You almost pulled out your dagger but resisted, remembering that they are mortals and you could get in trouble. You slowly twisted the doorknob open, opening it slightly so your body is visible but not the room.

"Hi, I'm mina!" She said in a bubbly tone. Her energy made you slightly overwhelmed. "I'm your neighbour, just next door." She pointed to the apartment beside yours.

You nodded, not knowing what to reply. "Have you finished unpacking?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Do you need help with boxes or anything?"

You looked back in your apartment, body moving aside just enough for Mina to have a clear view.

"Did you not bring any stuff?" You shook your head.

"I only brought a satchel," you gripped the strap that hung across your body. She gazes at the small bag attached to your body.

"Well, it looks like you need help settling in, why don't I cook dinner for you? You don't seem to have any pots or pans or food either." Your stomach grumbled at the mere mention of food.

Mina giggled, making you heat up in embarrassment. "I'll take that as a yes."

Since then Mina has been your source of food and company. She's been a great companion for the past few days. You told Wooyoung all about her and he just replied coldly. The thought of your best friend getting jealous of your new mortal friend made you laugh.

"So, I just started my 3rd year of college, and honestly, I am tired of it— I've been thinking of dropping out but then my mom might whoop my ass…" Mina rants while you sit there, zoned out watching the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Earth to y/n," mina waves her hand in front of you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Oh sorry, What were you saying?" The girl pouts, eventually brushing it off to discuss other things.

"Oh right, so I met this guy on campus and he is like, really cute. He is super tall and like, maybe a bit built..." You listened to her attentively but still in the back of your mind you couldn't help but discuss your plans on how to find mingi to yourself.

"Should I ask him out?" You blinked— you weren't paying attention again.

"I'm sorry?"

"The guy I met on campus on my first day, should I ask for his number?"

"Oh totally, you should," you said plainly, you feel really bad for not paying attention but you couldn’t help it when your mind is being occupied with something else. Mina just brushed it off, not noticing your spaced-out expression. She continued rambling while your mind wandered.

Time was running out, you needed a plan.

"Remind me why I am on your college campus again?" You said, mina dragging you by the arm. She woke you up at an ungodly hour just to travel early to her college campus. Few students were walking around campus, on their way to their scheduled class.

"Look, I barely have friends, also do you go to college? You look to be around my age," your eyes widen. Atlantis doesn't have schools, you had to travel to Olympus just to make it to class, but you only had to go until you turned 18. And you are immortal, you haven't been to school for a hundred years.

"I graduated," you just said. Hoping she won't ask further questions.

"Oh so you're older than me then," you nodded. She stopped to sit by a tree in the campus garden, patting the grass beside you. You sat beside her, leaning on the tree.

"I don't have class 'till after lunch, we can grab something to eat before you can go back to your apartment," she took out her textbook and paper to finish what she didn't the day before.

"Sorry for dragging you, You are always locked up in your apartment so I thought why not take you here with me," you were planning on exploring more of the city, just to take note of the possible routes to get around.

"Won't I get in trouble? I don't go here."

"You are fine, besides, it's an open college, anyone can visit here," she explains as she gets back to her work.

Your eyes wandered off somewhere else, spotting the students who were early, sitting on the grass as they got some sleep under the trees. Some were reading books and some were having their breakfast.

It makes you sleepy after a while, deciding to lean your head against the tree, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

A pair of shoes tapping against the grass, crunching the leaves on the way. You didn't bother to open your eyes so you just stayed and listened. Must be one of mina's friends as you hear her voice ushering for them to sit.

They sat on the other side of the tree beside mina, talking about classes and homework but something about that voice tingles your brain. The familiar deep husky voice made your heart ache. You were confused as to why you were reacting that way.

Soon the person left and you were forced to open your eyes when mina shook your shoulder abruptly.

"Guess who just gave me their number," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who?"

"The hot campus boy," she squealed, waving the paper in her hand. "His name is mingi and it's kinda cute and his voice was deep, not that deep, but like...deep."

Your eyes widen, "mingi?" She nodded. You felt like your world stopped spinning. Your mind is in shambles, processing the information. Your ears deafened the sounds around you, muffling mina's continuous babblings.

You thanked the gods that he's here, but then reality hit. He doesn't know you for he is only a reincarnation of the mingi you knew. He is no longer the son of Athena, he is just human.

"Are you sure it's the mingi?" Wooyoung's message appears from the clamshell. You lay on your bed, a book on your lap as you were reading just a while ago.

"Yes, Mina's description fits so perfectly," you bit your lip, anxiously fidgeting with your necklace. What if it wasn't him? You can't confirm that it really is him, he has no memory of his past life.

"Ok, so what are you gonna do now? You found him, what's the next step?" You mentally slapped yourself for being unprepared. You wanted to see him again, that was your main goal, and now that you know he's here, you have no reason to stay.

You want to be with him but it's impossible, you are immortal, he'll age while you stay young. Well, nothing much was changed when he was a demigod, but he had the opportunity to become immortal. It's not like there is some way a mortal can become immortal.

…..or is there.

"I'm coming back," the writing disappeared letter by letter as wooyoung's message appeared right after.

"Really? So that's it?"

You shook your head as if he could see you. "I have a plan"

"Oh no," wooyoung thought. Letting out a deep sigh. "She's gonna get into more trouble isn't she?" Wooyoung wished that somehow something would knock some sense into you.

"Y/n!"

"Mina, hey," she threw herself at you, engulfing you in a tight hug.

"I'm gonna miss you," she squeezed around your neck, restricting your airflow.

"Mina," you patted her back, making her apologize with a sheepish grin, "I'll be back soon though, you don't have to miss me too much."

"I know— wait, are you free right now? I was wondering if you wanna go eat before you leave," you thought for a second. Though it isn't difficult to travel back to Olympus, you're unfortunately on your last berry.

"Sure," you hoped it'll last you for another few hours.

Arriving at a restaurant with mina, ordering food as soon as you sat down. Your eyes wandered around. The restaurant was busy, waiters quickly passing around, trying to get to the customer's table as soon as possible.

"Finally," Mina says, standing up on her seat. You turned your head to the person she was referring to.

"Sorry I'm late, I got stuck in traffic."

"I invited mingi, I hope you don't mind y/n," Mina says with a sorry smile.

"I don't mind at all." That unsettling feeling soon washes over you, seeing mingi stand in front of you, face to face. You find it weird to see him like this like he didn't die. He looks like the same mingi years ago, it just felt….different.

You took your seats again, Mina helping mingi order his food. The three of you waited for your orders, chatting about anything that comes to mind. Mina talking about classes and homework that is due and mingi asking if any of you were free to a party this weekend.

Of course, you can't go.

"So, Where are you from y/n?" He asks you. His voice sounded so natural to you but at the same time, it felt foreign, like you just heard of it now. Technically you did but, the way demigod reincarnations work is they get reborn the same. Meaning they'll look the same, speak the same, and their personalities are most likely the same. Nothing will change once they get reborn— except, they won't remember anything from their past life.

"Atlantis," you blurted out, panic rushing through you. You can see the confusion in their faces.

"Like, the lost city of Atlantis?" Mortals, what are they teaching them?

"I mean Atlanta," you corrected yourself, body stiff as stone.

"America? That's far, do you have a flight?" Mina intervened. You didn't even know where that was, you just so happened to remember that book you read before coming here and the main character lived in a place called Atlanta.

"Uh yeah, sure," you felt cold sweat trickling down the back of your neck. You just hope they won't ask any more questions.

You let out a sigh of relief as the two of them get back to chatting with each other.

Finally, the food arrived and the sooner you finished the sooner you got to go home. And with your last berry, you popped it in your mouth after the meal.

Leaving the restaurant with mina and mingi you were finally able to go back to Olympus.

As you are ready to part ways, Mina engulfs you in a tight hug, cutting off your airflow. "Mina, you're squishing me," you said in a choked out voice. "Be quick ok," she gives you a final hug before walking in the other direction.

You waited until the coast was clear and hid somewhere secluded.

You arrived safely and with just a minute to spare. You were gonna go to wooyoung's place first before going back to Atlantis when you saw a lightning strike. A gust of moist air blows your way, a growling thunder piercing through your ears. Your mind immediately assumed that it was Zeus but when the clouds cleared you saw your father, sitting on a cloud with his trident on his lap.

"Father," you said, greeting him with a bow. Though he didn't look pleased with seeing you at the gates of Olympus, he still gave your hair a ruffle.

"You have me worried sick y/n, where were you?"

You expected yelling, hearing these words and this kind of tone shocked you. Especially even after telling him that you were staying at wooyoung's but still found you at the gates

"Look, I know I may have gone too far— with...you know, the marriage," he admits. Avoiding eye contact with you as much as possible. Not that it wasn't sincere, he just wasn't used to admitting he was wrong. But he loves you dearly and he'd do anything for you.

"It's ok, I actually forgot those happened." there was an awkward silence. Then, Poseidon left, after informing you of what time dinner was gonna be.

You finally arrived at your best friend's house and instead of a worried wooyoung, you were met with a furious wooyoung.

"I knew this was a bad idea, your father almost killed me!" He said. You rolled your eyes at the exaggeration.

"Relax wooyoung, nothing happened," you placed your bag onto his bed, taking out the souvenirs you got.

"Did he say anything to you? You are still alive so I'm guessing you haven't met yet?"

"I met him at the gates and he said he was worried." Thinking back to that moment made you shiver, it's like someone replaced your dad with someone completely different.

"Huh, well ok then— Ooh what are these," he was quick to change the topic as his curiosity fills in. Wooyoung takes the bag of candies you brought, ripping it open to take one of the wrappers with the sugary treats inside. You chuckled, watching wooyoung chew on the candy.

He notices your gaze stuck on the floor while you get lost in your own thoughts.

"Hey, did something else happen there?"

You snap back into reality, taking a while to process what wooyoung just said. You shook your head in response.

"Actually, is there a way to stay there without the berries?"

He stares at you for a moment, he honestly thought you were done and you weren't going back there. It's dangerous for you since you are not as strong as your father. Even with something more efficient than a magical fruit, you are bound to get in trouble.

"My mom has a necklace," wooyoung says, he didn't want to say it but he knew how important this is to you. Eventually you'll stop, knowing mortals and gods cannot stay together forever.

"She used to make me wear it when she let me go to the mortal world with her."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Y/n!" Mina ran to you with open arms, "I missed you so much," you giggled at your friend.

"I've only been gone for a week."

"A week too long," she pouted.

She takes your hand in hers, pulling you to whatever direction. You arrived at the airport, making it look like you got here by plane. Passing security check out and exiting the building.

"You still remember mingi right?" She asks.

"Of course, I left for a week, it doesn't mean I forgot anything that's here," she grinned.

"Why, what happened?" You asked, hiding the hint of fear in your voice.

"Oh nothing," she sing-song, trying to stop her lips from smiling too much.

You both stopped at the front of the main entrance, waiting for you-don't-know-who. Until a car stops in front of you. Mingi came to pick you two up, giving you a ride to your apartment.

"So, what's it like in your hometown," she asks, taking a bite of her food.

"Uh, It's….you know —uh…. there's trees and buildings."

Mina nodded slowly as she continued eating her food.

After you two finished eating, Mina left to finish her college work— probably with mingi.

You didn't want to think the worst but considering mina's behavior around mingi, you couldn't stop the thoughts running around your mind.

You gripped the pendant that was tied around your neck. It's pearly white color glowing due to the light reflecting on it. Its sharp edges indicate that it was shattered into parts.

The other half is with mingi.

Atleast, when he was still with you. It symbolizes your promise to always be together and be there for each other.

But fate just wasn't on your side. And it still isn't.

As you walked out of your apartment to get some fresh air, you spotted the two by the parking lot. Their faces are inches away from each other.

You didn't know why but you felt your heart sink. Tears welling in your eyes. You reminded yourself that this mingi isn't the same mingi that promised to be with you. He wasn't the same mingi that helped you run away from home whenever your parents were arguing again.

That gave you a reality check, you can't be with him anymore. You have to let him go.

Your gaze still stuck on the two, not noticing the sudden appearance of another spirit.

This time, it made you feel chills.

"Keeho," you said in a whisper. You didn't bother to look in his direction.

"Oh, I'm glad you recognize me," he said, a mischievous smile growing on his lips.

"Ryujin would have loved to see this, after all, this was her plan." You curled your fist into a ball, tight enough until your nails dug into your skin.

"Why?" You managed to let out. You didn't want this to affect you but it does. After everything you did, it all didn't matter in the end.

"I don't know, ask ryujin. I'm just here to relay a message."

Keeho pushed himself off the wall that he was leaning on and came over to you.

"Don't try to bring back something that was meant to be taken away, it'll come back to bite you in the ass," he whispered against your ear, sending chills down your spine.

Then he left, disappearing into the mist again.

Even though you just came back, you were already itching to leave. Packing your bag and locking the apartment. Giving the keys to the landlord.

Mina notices you in a hurry to leave, running after you to catch you.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" She grabs your wrist making you stop. You didn't turn around, you stayed rooted to the ground. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm sorry Mina," you pulled your wrist away from her and left. You felt guilty, she was your only friend and she felt betrayed. You left without an explanation.

"Y/n? You're here, did something happen?" Wooyoung read your expression.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts as you replaced the sad look with a small smile.

"I'm great, I just didn't like the whole vibe there," you lied.

You removed the ruby crystal around your neck giving it to wooyoung, muttering a thanks. Alongside you removed the pendant that was tucked under your shirt. Wooyoung was shocked as you never took it off and you swore you never would.

You tucked the necklace into your pocket, taking a mental note to put it away when you get home.

Although you didn't accomplish your original mission, you did realize that it's always good to let go of something. Never let anything or anyone tie you down. You are still heartbroken, but you are sure you could get over it soon.

Of course, the siblings that stared at you through the window, mischievous smiles on their faces, will not let you live just yet.

#8makes1teamnet #ficscafe #destinyversenet #fkp-net #knet-bakery #: ̗̀🌺; collab fic entry #❪ 🐿️ ❫ ─ oneshots #ateez #ateez mingi #song mingi #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines

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nanasparadise · 4 years ago

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“Dream Invader” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader (Soulmate AU)

Hello everyone! I hope you are doing fine. I don’t know if you have read my previous post, that talks about a dream I had, but I decided to turn some elements of it into this piece of writing. This fanfiction is set in the soulmate universe. I really hope you enjoy it, because I decided to write this instead of studying for my French essay I have tomorrow (please wish me luck, God knows I need it) :D. And for the requests: I haven’t forgotten you, please remain patient. T-T I’ll write my last test on Thursday, after that I have holidays, so I’ll definitely catch up on them!! Thank you for sticking around. <3

Summary: Your soulmate keeps visiting you in your dreams, but you don’t feel comfortable around them…

TW: noncon touching, toxic relationship, angst, reader gets hurt physically, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 2626

It had happened yet again. You had dreamt again of this man, one of many countless dreams. Breathing heavily, you abruptly opened your eyes and wiped away the sweat that was accumulating on your forehead with the back of your hand. “Does that really mean…?”, you mumbled softly. Most people would be happy to find out they had a soulmate and finally had met them. But most people’s match certainly wasn’t someone, who conveyed a deep obsession and possessiveness towards their beloved. Still mentally in your dream, your body started to tremble slightly. What were you going to do now? At first, you had brushed off the dreams, convincing yourself that they didn’t mean anything. But you knew the gist of it. You knew that when a certain person kept infiltrating your dreams, that they were your soulmate.

Sighing deeply, you turned around in your bed, your left cheek resting on the soft pillow. The clock on your bedside table revealed that it was 4:30 a.m. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep again, but it was still too early to wake up for work. So you remained there in the quiet, your shallow breaths being the only sound in the dark room. Despite your efforts, your racing thoughts kept returning to your dream. “Who is this man?”, you whispered as you looked down on your fingers, which seemed to still hurt.

Every time he had shown up, he had never revealed his name to you, wanting to keep it to himself. “I‘ll tell it to you once we see us in real life, amore”, he had told you, a certain spark igniting his admittedly gorgeous yellow and purple eyes. Truth be told, your soulmate was nothing short of beautiful. Long white hair with a purple hue graced his stoic face. His athletic body was adorned with a dark bodysuit, accentuating his muscles. All in all, he reminded you of a vengeful Greek god, breathtaking but dangerous. Dangerous… You began to feel threatened by the presence of your mysterious dream visiter. Since he had never offered you his name, you hadn’t given him yours either, sensing there might be something off about him.

Still, he had found it out. This night in your dream, you two had been on the flower field you had met for the first time. You had felt dizzy, as if your head had been caught in the clouds. This light atmosphere had convinced you that this had been truly a dream, since a sense of haziness always accompanied your nocturnal adventures. The summer sun had been setting, turning the sky into a colourful spectacle of orange and pink. This would have been a picturesque and maybe even romantic moment if it hadn’t been for the feeling of dread building in your stomach. A small smile had formed on his purple lips when he had perceived your form. Quietly, nearly inaudibly, the stranger had murmured your name into the warm summer breeze: “Y/N.” Immediately, goosebumps had formed on your arms.

“How do you know my name?”, you had replied, visibly shaken. Had he somehow managed to get some information on you?

“It’s such a fitting name”, he had mused contemplatively, ignoring your question. “Y/N…” His unique eyes had been fixed on you the whole time, analysing every detail of your face. Fear had started to take over your body. The slight shivers had transformed into noticeable trembling. Your breath had shortened as you had desperately searched for a way to get out of that dream.

„Why are you doing this?”, you had shouted out, panic manifesting in your voice. “Why do you keep entering my dreams, just to behave like a creep? How should I trust you when you don’t even tell me anything about yourself, yet you somehow know my personal information?” The man in front of you had sighed at your outburst. Sparks of sympathy had danced in his eyes, making them appear even brighter. Slowly, he had reached for your hands, holding them in his larger ones. You had tried to pull off from his grasp, but your fighting had been futile against his stronger form. So you had been forced to remain there, listening to the dream man’s words.

“I know this is confusing for you,” he had said while rubbing circles on the back of your hands with his thumbs, “but I can’t give you any information yet, my job makes it hard. I need to see you in real life and I promise, I’ll tell you everything then.” Tears had pricked in your eyes, clouding your vision. Why had he assumed you two would meet? The thought of the stranger knowing your address had turned your initial dread into hot anger. No matter if he was your soulmate, you were still your own, independent person! He couldn’t just stalk you, talk to you as if you were a couple and leave you in the dark about his own identity. The dream man still had held your hands, expecting some kind of reaction from you.

“No”, you had simply answered, refusing to meet his intense gaze.

“No what?”, he had replied, impatience swinging in his voice. He had been in your dreams endless times, reassuring you of his love and loyalty for you. Why hadn’t you been reciprocating his feelings? He was your soulmate after all!

“No,” you had repeated while your eyebrows had furrowed, illustrating your resistance,”we’re not going to see each other.” The grip on your hands had suddenly become stronger and hurtful, nearly crushing your fingers. For a second time, you had tried to take away your hands from him but without success. The stranger’s orbs had fixated you, darkness swirling in the iris of the same colour as the flowers on the field. Terror had made itself visible again in your body and mind, amplified by the man’s sombre look on his handsome face. Yes, he looked just like a statue of Ares, so enchanting and yet so enraged. And dangerous…

“So you don’t want to meet your soulmate?”, he had stated calmy, which only had increased your anxiety.

“Please, let go, you’re hurting me”, you had pleaded despairingly. The man had squeezed harshly one last time your hands before he had eventually released them. Protectively, you had cradled them against your chest, trying to soothe the pain by softly rubbing your fingers. “What kind of person would do this to their soulmate?” you had thought in disgust and fear. Hesitantly, you had looked up to him, his face remaining a stoic façade.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Y/N”, the dream man had said coolly. The fact that he had addressed you with your name again had put you in a state of fear once more. Nevertheless, you had gathered all your courage to reply to him.

“No, I don’t. Someone who hurts and stalks me can’t be my soulmate, no matter if they enter my dreams. And even if you are, I still don’t want to be with you. Please, I’m begging you to respect and accept that.”

The Italian – you had guessed that this was probably his nationality since he called you Italian pet names – man’s gaze had immediately softened at your words. He had known he’d got carried away with his rage. Of course, your words had pained him more than any weapons ever could, but he had to be patient with you. He could only imagine how he had come across to you, especially now that he had hurt you. No, he couldn’t pain a loved one again, not you…

“I’m sorry, cuore mio,” he had said remorsefully, regret manifesting itself, “I really shouldn‘t have hurt you. I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to see you, really see you, and hold you in my arms. I know, I might not be the best man to have existed.” His face had abruptly twisted into a pained grimace. This had been the first time he had ever been that sincere to you. Your feelings had begun to transform into a mix of sympathy, fear and confusion. He had really appeared to feel bad about his actions, maybe he had lived through a trauma to react that way? Your pondering had quickly come to a halt. No, you really couldn’t start to show empathy for the man. After all, he had stalked you, hurt you, crossed too many lines. Nonetheless, your dream invader had kept up with his speech. “I don’t know if I deserve your love, but I really want to believe in it. You are my soulmate and I am yours, we can make it work out if we try. Please, give me a chance and I will do everything in my power to show you I am worthy of you. Just don’t reject me already.” He had paused for a moment, a slight tremble in his voice making itself visible. You had stared at him with big eyes, not knowing what to do or how to feel about this situation. “I’ll be truthful with you. I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.” The man had tried to grasp your hands again but had immediately stopped when he had seen, how you had flinched away. His lips had formed into a thin, bitter line while seeing your reaction. Was he a monster? “I see that my words don’t seem to get through you” he said stoically. “I’ll show you what I mean, that might help. We’ll be seeing each other soon enough.” His last sentence had sent you a cold shiver down your spine. You had had the feeling that he hadn’t referred to another dream… An expression of horror had slowly crept on your face.

“What do you mean?”, you had blurted out loudly, “you mean in our dreams, right? You don’t know where I live, do you?” But the stranger had cruelly decided to stay silent, staring at you ominously instead. Suddenly, the light atmosphere around you had changed. Heaviness had taken over you, the scenic landscape had turned black as you had woken up.

You took another look at your clock. 5:15 a.m. Did you really spend so much time recalling that dream? Deciding that you already wasted too many thoughts on that man, you stood up from your bed and took a shower, even if it still was early. “Some distraction will do me good”, you sighed, exhaustion manifesting in your voice. Your dreams involving the stranger were always so vivid that the next morning you woke up completely tired and drained. As you entered the shower and felt the warm water hitting your skin, you finally managed to relax a little, even if that tiny voice of fear kept reminding you of the dream man’s words…

Weeks had passed since your last encounter in the dream world with your so called soulmate. A sense of hope blossomed in your chest. Maybe he had finally come to his senses and realised that it would be best to leave you alone? That was at least what your friends had told you. They had reassured you that it happened often, that your soulmate could be invasive, they had heard that before from other acquaintances. But in those cases, it had always ended well, none of the people had been harmed. You had chosen to blindly accept that explanation. Truth be told, you did need comfort right now. Because, what your friends didn’t know was, that you felt a pair of eyes burning holes into your back every time you left your home. Yet, you never saw the person behind the gaze. Foolishly, you clung onto the sense of security your friends provided you with, even if it was but wishful thinking…

As you returned home one evening after your work, you already perceived intuitively that something was wrong. Why was there a light on? You always did turn them off… Cautiously, you entered your bedroom, as that was where the light source came from, with your phone in your hand with the emergency number already typed in. Your palms grew sweaty and your breath heavy as fear flooded through your veins. Only now, you thought that you should have maybe taken a knife from the kitchen as protection. But alas, it was already too late. When you saw the person sitting on your bed, you were surprised to see a familiar face.

The man from your dreams quickly stood up when he glanced at your form. His eyes first landed on your horrified face, then on your phone. Without a second thought, you quickly tapped on the call button and placed the device next to your ear. The man knew exactly who you were planning on phoning. “Please, take the phone away Y/N, I’m not going to harm you”, he said lowly. Even though he promised to not hurt you, his dark expression on his face made you think otherwise. Of course you weren’t going to hang up now. You heard the Italian sigh at your act of defiance. After the second beep sound, a voice appeared on the line.

“How can I help you?”, the person on the other side of the phone asked politely. Before you could reply, an to you invisible force ripped the device out of your grasp and slammed it onto your wall. The screen of your smartphone turned black and cracked into thousand pieces. With eyes as big as saucers you stared incredulously at it.

“I’m sorry for that”, the man simply uttered. Though you couldn’t hear a hint of actual remorse in his voice. “I’m gonna buy you a new one.”

“What do you want?”, you managed to voice, “I thought you had left me in peace.”

“I’ve told you at our last encounter that we would see each other again, fiore mio”, the man replied with softness. “I can’t believe you’re really here physically”, he kept on musing in a dreamy tone, eyes lighting up. He took a few steps towards you, a hand reaching out to you. You instinctively took a few steps back until your back hit the door.

“Please, don’t come near me”, you begged, feeling completely helpless and exposed.

“It’s fine Y/N, really. I promised I’d you show that I won’t ever hurt you again.” He was now in front of you, your faces so close, you could feel his breath fan over your nose. Tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to stream over your face. What were you going to do now? You were scared to react in a sudden way, scared it would trigger the Italian and his dangerous invisible force. Gently, the man shushed you and placed a hand on your cheek. A calloused thumb brushed away the tears that had finally escaped. “I know that I have done bad things in the past,” he whispered quietly to you, “but I, Leone Abbacchio, swear I will fix it. I will be a better person for you, Y/N.” Your eyes widened at the revelation of his name. Abbacchio basked in your innocent reaction. He took a mental note to replay it with Moody Blues later. While one hand kept caressing your cheek, the other one grabbed into his pocket to take out a yellow flower, matching perfectly with the man’s eyes. Your gaze fell upon the plant, recognising it from the flower field of your dreams. Abbacchio softly tucked it behind your left ear while admiring your face. You hiccupped anxiously at his obsessive staring. “We will have a beautiful future ahead of us, I’ll make sure of it” the Italian murmured in your ear.

“After all, we are soulmates.”

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo #Jojo Part 5 #jojo golden wind #jojo vento aureo #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere abbacchio #yandere abbacchio x reader #minors dni #goth tiddy man #tw: yandere #tw: noncon touching #tw: injury #tw: implied kidnapping #tw: angst #tw: stalking

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mrsseverussnape · 3 years ago

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Love Is You - chapter 28/final

a/n: And we came to the final chapter... I hope you liked the journey with Scarlett. Give her a gift and share your final thoughts about her or the fanfiction❤️🌹🐾

It has been 7 months since Scarlett and Severus moved into Scarlett’s retirement house in Naxos. Severus has retired after he found out about Scarlett’s illness because he wanted to spend all of his time with Scarlett. Scarlett hasn’t wanted him to do that sacrifice for her but Severus was persistent. When they moved to Naxos in June, first couple of weeks passed with decorating the house; their choice of decoration style was a mix of coastal and Greek. After the decoration was done, Scarlett needed to accomplish her other retirement dream which was buying ducklings! Severus reconciled Scarlett that buying only 2 ducklings is enough. She has wanted more but they ended up buying a yellow one and a Rouen one. Scarlett named the Rouen one “Cookie” since it has dark spots and looked like a chocolate chip cookie, yellow one was Severus’s to name and he named it “Milky” just to go with cookie and milk theme. Luckily, Scarlett’s cat Athena got along with the ducklings and they all became the cutest trio ever.

Scarlett and Severus had times of their lives during the whole summer in Naxos. They went to swimming, discovered every corner of the island, had long walks and many more; but their favourite activity to do together was sailing with their small boat and reading books middle of the sea. They believed that either island’s weather or those activities helped to ease Scarlett’s illness a bit. She wasn’t having heart aches or pains frequently and she has passed out only couple of times during the summer. She got even better when Carina and Leo came to visit her time to time. Scarlett wanted to spend rest of the year in Naxos too, they went to London for 2 weeks in September for Scarlett’s yearly check-up and to visit her parents and Carina since she was took Severus’s job after him. When they came back to the island, it was calmer than before since the summer season has ended and all the tourists were back at their countries. They liked it better that way and enjoyed the silence of the island. Everything was going good and well until November arrived. Like how trees lose their leaves in fall, Scarlett started to lose her health. Now she was waking up nauseous every morning and the moment she got off the bed dizziness was adding to it as a plus, some days she wasn’t able to eat anything whole day because of that. In addition to this her blackouts became more frequently, and she would faint regularly. Somedays Scarlett would be in such a bad mood and cry her eyes out until she fell asleep. These days were the worst ones for Severus, he would try his best to calm her down and ease her pain but after Scarlett fell asleep, Severus would go by the sea and cry there all by himself.

Last week of November, Scarlett insisted to invite her children, her parents and Sirius to Naxos; saying that she wants to see them one last time. Those words stabbed Severus in the heart, and they had a small argument over it because Severus wanted her to believe that nothing will happen to her. But in the end Severus sent patronus messages to all of them, explaining the situation a bit. Scarlett haven’t said anything about her illness to anyone still. When they got Severus’s message, all was panicked and couldn’t understand what happened to her so suddenly. Her parents and Sirius apparated there in the same day with the message, Carina and Leo came in the night of the same day. Severus explained them her illness beforehand which did lead to an argument between them, they were angry that Severus hasn’t said anything to them until this day even in secret from Scarlett. But in the end, they all realized that arguing won’t help anything and it was time to see Scarlett. She wasn’t able to get out of the bed, so all went to see her in the bedroom. She was sleeping in the dark blue sheets which made her to look even paler than usual, her hair colour was the only lively thing on her at the moment.

Ricardus went over to his only daughter and woke her up by kissing her cheek softly. “Wake up princess...”

“Dad...” Scarlett looked at him sleepily and tried to sit up. “You came.” When she realized all the people she wanted to see was in the room, her sad eyes sparkled with happiness. “You all came!”

“Of course we did mummy!” Carina jumped on the bed to snuggle her.

“Be careful Carrie.” Leo warned her, he was extremely tense since he found out about his mother’s condition. Leo was the mummy’s boy since birth and he adored Scarlett in every way. Possibility of losing her was killing him.

“It’s fine Leo, come join us baby.” Scarlett held a shaky hand out for Leo who happily accepted it and snuggled into his mother too.

The air of the room was unexplainable, everybody’s eyes had a sad expression when their lips were forced into a smile. They were trying to have a cheerful day just to make Scarlett happy but deep down all of them was crying internally. Especially Sirius, he was very silent. He was blaming himself for what happened to his Scarlett, he has put so much stress and pressure on her because of the fuckery they have been through. He had one job; protect his family and keep it together but he has failed terribly. Sirius shook these thoughts off and turned his attention back to Scarlett. They all took some photos together and talked for hours. Scarlett hasn’t been that happy for a long time, she even ate some food with them. Her happiness calmed everybody down for a bit.

The twins and Sirius have taken couple of days off from work so everybody would stay at the island. Severus was helping them to make the beds in the living room and the guest room, their house wasn’t that big so Ric and Aurelia would stay in the guest room while Sirius and the twins were sharing the living room. While they were on this, Scarlett wanted to talk with Sirius privately. Sirius went back to the bedroom where Scarlett was and sat next to her; silver eyes met with the forest green ones for the first time in a while.

“Siri...”

“Yes kitten.” He smiled softly at her.

“I want you to promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“When... when i am gone, please take care of Carina and Leo also yourself. I want to make sure that you all will be just as fine even i am not with you here no more...”

“No no no, don’t say such things. I don’t wanna hear those, Scarlett.” Sirius held her hand tightly and kissed her knuckles. “We will see our kids’ weddings and have grandchildren; we will be the coolest grandparents! Where do you think you are going without doing any of these!?” Sirius joked but his eyes were filled with tears, he was having hard time while trying not to cry.

Scarlett’s lips trembled while the tears were running down on her cheeks. Her heart broke thinking that she won’t be able to see any of these events Sirius just said. “Don’t buy little motorbikes to our grandchildren for their first birthday.” Scarlett joked trying to change the mood.

“Ah damn, i was just thinking that!” Sirius laughed but shortly his laughter turned into sobs. He snuggled into Scarlett who was halfway laying, she wrapped one arm around him while playing with his hair with the other hand. This was the way how Sirius copes with sadness, he would rest his head on either Scarlett’s chest or lap and let her to play with his hair until he was calm again. But this time Scarlett cried with him too, they poured out all the sadness they held inside.

“My lawyer will give keys to each of you when i d... you know; i prepared 4 trunks with the things i want to give you, the twins and Severus. They are in the basement of my house. When the time comes, take them okay...?”

Sirius didn’t answer her question but instead he held onto her even more. Scarlett sighed but knew he would do what she asked him to do. She looked down at Sirius who was laying next to her, head rested on her chest. “I want you to know that, i was so happy with you and i didn’t have any regrets. I think our friendship and marriage were more than just decent, they were perfectly splendid. I loved you very much Sirius Orion Black, i still do.”

Sirius finally looked up at her face, his cheeks were wet from the tears he shed; he sat up slowly. “Scarlett Serafina Rose, i love you more and always will. You are the best thing ever happened to me. I am so so so sorry for all the times i made you sad, none of them were intentional... You are my one and only.” Without a thought, Sirius closed the gap between their faces and pressed his lips into hers. Familiar feeling of 26 years filled them but this kiss was different; it was a farewell kiss and both of them knew it. Their tears mixed into the kiss and Sirius couldn’t take it anymore; he run out of the room crying.

Severus came to their bedroom soon after he saw Sirius run outside. “How are you Scar?” He asked while changing into his pyjamas.

“Good, i guess...?” She had a weird feeling whole day since her loved ones came but she couldn’t understand what; it was like she was cured in a day.

Severus turned off the lights before came to bed, but Scarlett turned on their bedside lights immediately. Severus raised his eyebrows, Scarlett hated to sleep in a lighted room even it was just a tinniest light. She noticed his confusion and explained. “I wanna see you...”

“Why is that love? Did you miss me?” Severus hugged her and kissed her tear-stained cheek.

“I will miss you...”

Severus was about to ask her what she meant but before he could, Scarlett kissed him passionately. This took Severus by surprise; since Scarlett’s illness got worse, the only intimate moments they shared were soft and slow kisses. She slowly pulled away and whispered into his ear. “You are my first, my last and my everything. I will keep your love evermore, Severus. I love you.”

Severus was used to Scarlett’s regular farewell talks by now and he hated them because they just hurt him even more but that felt different. When Scarlett looked into his night-like eyes, he got lost in hers; Severus always loved how big and meaningful her eyes were.

“Tell me you love me...” Scarlett’s whisper brought him back to reality.

“I love you more than anything in the whole wide world Scarlett, you know that. You are my luck.” Severus kissed her one last time. Scarlett rested onto his chest then he started to sing their song “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” to put her to sleep while playing with her hair. Her eyes closed slowly and she dived into a peaceful sleep.

The next day a shriek woke everyone up; it was raining cats and dogs with loud thunders. The weather simply reflected everyone’s feelings about today. They were planning to stay couple of days more but they changed the plan and took Scarlett to London with them. London days weren’t any different, they were gloomy and smothery. Severus wanted to turn back to Naxos for Scarlett’s birthday, they have decided on celebrating it there this year and he wanted to make it happen.

Severus was listening to a slow music from the record player and drinking some wine when his eyes caught the window, it was snowing for the first time this year in the island. Severus smiled happily thinking that Scarlett’s usual birthday wish was happening. Since it was midnight and officially her birthday, he ran up to their bedroom to wake her up and let her know about the snow. When he walked into the room, Scarlett was already awake in their bed. She was looking like a snow angel in her white satin sleeping gown, Severus grinned at her while moving the curtains aside.

“Surprise! Just how you wished for your birthday, love.”

“I haven’t wished for snow this year, i have only wished to be able to celebrate it...”

“We can start celebrations right now if you want, it passed midnight. Happy 56 my love!”

Scarlett didn’t respond to him; she was staring at him rather sorrowfully. He leaned against the wall behind him to support himself.

“I am not here, all of this happening in your head Severus...”

Severus shook his head while whispering “no” constantly.

“I died that night in your arms... It was your scream to wake everyone up in the following morning... You all took me to London for my funeral...”

“STOP! Please stop...”

Severus cried out while sliding down on wall to the floor. He buried his face into his palms and cried his heart out. When he calmed down, he kissed Scarlett’s promise ring which he was wearing on his pinkie now.

“I love you Scarlett... We will meet again…”

A/n: ahhh this final chapter always makes me cry😭 i don’t know why i wrote it like that…

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @mrssnivellussnape @mestin-writes @echoofawind @pamelalur15 @myamortentia

If you wanna be on my taglist, let me

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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νοσταλγία (Chapter 39)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi! I have nothing to say here lol, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! Love ya!

Today there’s two chapters! You can find Chapter 40 right here

Run if you want to; fight, kick, scream.

You told him the Greeks being alive changed nothing, and while he argued and insisted otherwise, you remained certain. Now, now you realize Ivar was right.

Them being alive meant being an Anassa was not some distant title awaiting for you somewhere in Greece, them being alive meant the Priestess you once were wasn’t allowed to rest amongst the dead where she belonged.

Them being alive meant that there would come a day where your bond to them and your bond to Ivar would pull you in two different directions, and that you would have to let go of one of them.

And now they have come to find you, they call for you with their familiar language and their warm memories and their land of flower fields and nostalgia. And yet at your back is the man you love, and he offers you a lifetime of strange customs and cold nights and his kingdom of iron and death.

And you can’t pretend there isn’t a choice to make for any longer.

You can’t pretend you haven’t known what your choice would be for a long time, maybe since the start of it all.

Because you are asked to give up one night in the familiar warmth of your bedroom and at the same time you are asked to forget for one more night that there isn’t a world past him; and you realize there isn’t a difference between one night and one lifetime.

Fate will drag you home by the wrists, child.

The sky remains the same as the Gods demand you make your choice, the earth is still solid under your feet as you walk the path you have chosen, the wind is biting and cold even if it speaks of the change of spring.

You leave behind a part of you, on the path you didn’t take, on the choice you couldn’t make; and as your heart breaks in two, as your eyes fill with tears, as a part of you dies and descents, you can’t help but think bitterly that the world now should be as changed as you are.

And you realize then, as you force shaking legs to move, that the world didn’t change when Persephone made her choice, but that didn’t mean she didn’t make one.

The skies didn’t tremble and shiver as when Zeus condemned her, the earth wasn’t split in two as when Hades first took her, the fields and flowers didn’t wither and die as when Demeter mourned her.

The world didn’t change, and so the stories never spoke of the day she made her choice. And us mortals were nearsighted enough to believe there hadn’t been a choice to be made.

You know how this tale goes.

You close your eyes tightly against Zephyr’s cries, and your tears leave a burning trail down your skin. When you lick your lips, the salt of your tears tastes sweet, like the sweetest of fruits.

It has been so many years since you were allowed a bite of it, but you still remember what it tasted like. Like the unknown, like freedom, like temptation.

You hold on tightly to the wood at your side, stopping only for a second.

For a second, you can close your eyes and be there again, surrounded by tall stone walls of the temple in a time before the mark of soot and pain on your heart, with the soft lull of the Aegean lapping at the soft sands of the shore filling your ears.

Narses’ warm and raspy voice calmly talking his men through training, the elders’ always-cold and always-soft touches as they passed you by during the day, the wide-eyed look of the younger girls that wanted to become Hiereiai, Galla’s secret smile as you two shared a look and the shine in her dark eyes that spoke of trust and understanding.

But the woman that lived among them is not the woman you are anymore. You haven’t been her for years. Even on the day you were first called Anassa, the woman that could have been it, been their leader and queen, was already dead and gone.

And try as you might, you can’t imagine a life where you can come back to it, to them.

The wood creaks under your tightening grip, and the screech of the falcon rings in your head. And you look back, and whisper an apology.

And close the door.

You once imagined if maybe all of this had been nothing but your descent, and it isn’t too hard to imagine all that has happened to be nothing but the path that leads to your death. That has led to it.

And if the Gods let you, you want for nothing other than this death. Let the Hiereia that died in Eleusis amongst the flames rest with those that perished for her and with her; let the Anassa that out of guilt and the burden of legacy earned a hollow crown die too.

Let you be reborn.

Because you sink into familiar warmth surrounded by an unfamiliar world, and you can’t find it in yourself to wish for anything to be any different.

Drawing your legs up, you curl your body behind Ivar’s, your face buried between his shoulder blades and your eyes shut tightly.

More than once you imagined what a life alongside him could have been, if you had never known the binds of legacy that kept you tethered to Greece and her people. More than once you almost wished for your Fate to had been other, and a world where you could have never been anything other than a healer from the Silk Roads.

You never dared imagine, or wish for, a life at his side after you were made Anassa of the Attic Greeks. It felt like a betrayal of who they wanted you to be, to want to stay at his side, to love him, to see a future in this realm of cold and death.

But that is what you have chosen, that is…what you’ll have.

A murmur of your name, quiet and a little slurred by sleep, and you tighten your hold.

“I’m here,” You promise, an incredulous smile on your lips. And because you can, because you choose to, you vow, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You try to chase away with the soft sounds of his breaths the cries of the falcon that circles the longhouse almost till nightfall. In your mind, in your dreams, it flies over you with that mournful cry until the morning.

When you wake up it is due to the by now familiar sounds of Ivar moving about the room. When you force yourself to open your eyes, he is already dressed and the braces on his legs safely secured.

He seems to linger, debating with himself whether to leave or to wake you. It is unusual for him to start his day apart from you, and you have made sure in these months to try to be there to offer, if nothing else, a quiet murmur of his name and a smile before he is to leave. You never actually considered it meant much to him, if you’re honest.

When you sit up in the bed, Ivar greets you with a soft mumble of your name, before deciding to lean against one of the nearby tables, watching you as you start your routine as well, patiently waiting for you to walk to him and turn your back for him to lace up your dress.

You turn around, remaining close, and let your hands settle over his chest, idly correcting the way his clothes set over him.

His hand is surprisingly gentle as he tilts your head up. Pale blue eyes search your face, and he asks, “You look tired. Dreams?”

You shake your head, “No, I…Galla was here, last night.”

He blinks, almost owlishly. “Here?”

“Outside Kattegat.”

Whatever ease that was written in his posture, whatever openness that was clear in his eyes; vanish before your eyes and the unfaltering edge of the man that you faced during those first months is all that is left.

And you cannot look at the carefully held distance, the perfected façade of the man in control, so you lower your gaze.

“She came to find you,” It isn’t a question, you know it isn’t, but you can’t help but wonder if a part of him wants you to deny it. You can’t exactly blame or judge him for wanting to believe their return a mistake, if you’re honest. Ivar takes a breath, “You didn’t go.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“They want you with them.”

“But I want to be here.” You sentence, maybe a bit harshly.

You lift your gaze to look into familiar blue eyes, and find a tentative something looking back, something that a less cautious man would let become hope.

Ivar swallows, eyebrows lifting slightly as if to question you, before he keeps the words at bay, lips forming around the beginning of your name but falling short of uttering anything.

Leaving your lips there should be words about how there was never a choice to be made, or how it was something you had chosen a long time ago but never dared admit; there should be promises that you chose, and the world didn’t change but you did and that you do not regret a thing; there should be apologies to the woman you were and the people that loved you for proving right those who said to love a Hiereia of Persephone is a cruel fate; there should be reassurances that you never spoke truer words than when you told him you loved him above anything and above anyone.

But you choke on shame and guilt, and your words are kept at bay not only by the voices of your past demanding to know why you have forsaken them, but by the press of Ivar’s lips on yours.

When you part, he motions for you to go get ready, tells you to get on with your day. You aren’t certain if him holding on to normalcy like this is a good or a bad thing anymore.

____

It was always frighteningly easy, to forget there was a world past him, but as you step out of the longhouse, the cloak wrapped tightly around you, you cannot help but take your eyes to the skies, searching for a bird, a messenger, that you know won’t be there.

You told her you’d be there if they needed you, you told her to send Zephyr to the skies with the certainty that you’d answer the call. But the time came, and when they needed you and he needed you, the choice was frighteningly easy, and you couldn’t answer their call.

You notice the cold in your hands when delicate and dainty fingers wrap around yours, and Freydis’ deep blue eyes look at you with countless questions. You realize then you’ve walked to the edge of the city, and stand before the tallest stretch of the wall, the barrier to the forest, to another realm, to a life you had left behind long before you were brave enough to admit you had.

Freydis doesn’t say anything, taking you to her home with the same ease as that night when she guided you through darkened streets to the place where you could cross that barrier and embrace your oldest friend and remember what the warmth of Eleusis felt like.

You stand in the small and humble home, and you cannot keep the words from your lips,

“You saw Zephyr, you saw the...the falcon, right?”

“I did,” She confirms, unwaveringly honest as she adds, “I went past the walls, I met the woman. Galla.”

That she did what you did not should hurt you, should make the pit of shame and guilt at the base of your stomach grow tighter, but you only have breath for one question,

“D-Did she tell you why she was here? What did they need, wh-…?”

“She is well, and so are the rest, as far as she told me,” At her silence you almost want to ask for more, but the blonde is quicker, and explains, “That is all you need to know. That is all you want to know.”

You drop down on the chair behind you, your head held in your hands and your breaths shaking their way past your lips.

“That’s unfair.” You say, but she remains impassive, unnerving you.

“You could have gone to them, but you didn’t.”

“No,” You are forced to accept, the word leaving your lips in a breath. Lifting your head, you state, “Freydis, I-…they needed me, and I…”

“And you stayed with him.” Freydis finishes for you, but there isn’t bite in her tone, there isn’t an accusation. You almost wish there were.

You grit your teeth at the sob that threatens to break free, but pride and something else keep you from closing your eyes tight, stubborn resilience and something else make you straighten your back and raise your chin.

“I did.”

Freydis betrays a smile. It is faint, it is still tainted with something like pain and something hidden.

“And do you regret it?”

And past the loss of the familiar, past the unsteadiness of walking without chains, past the guilt of making a choice…you smile.

The answer that leaves your lips is unwavering, “No.”

The blonde’s smile widens, and her eyes crinkle a little bit when she does, dark blue shining more vibrant than you have seen in a long time.

“You chose, and you chose him.”

“I did.” You tell her, smile wobbling but honest.

She sits down in front of you, voice quiet and eyes on yours with an openness born out of too many similar scars. Her hand grasps yours and she squeezes tightly.

“Freedom is a terrifying thing, isn’t it?”

____

You find yourself following your routine -the world didn’t shake, or tremble, or change- and you enter the apothecary home, grateful for the reprieve from the biting cold of Kattegat’s winter.

“Witch!” Valdís calls out, her grudge against you for making Aghi insist that his mother dip him in the river like Thetis did to Achilles seemingly forgotten for the time being.

You greet her with a smile, and as she tells you she is working on some remedies for fever for a family near the outskirts of Kattegat whose five children came down with a sickness due to the winter; you sit next to her and start helping.

“My boy has stopped insisting I drown him in some river, by the way.”

“It is not drowning, it i-…”

“I really don’t care, witch,” She interrupts, but there’s jest in her tone, not malice, and you only roll your eyes at her, but still smile. The shieldmaiden chuckles, “At least he has forgotten about that, and about threatening the sun with arrows. Aghi won’t let go about that boat of black sails, though.”

“Theseus?”

“The idiot that forgot to change the sails for white ones.”

Gods, for a moment it is like talking with Sieghild once again.

With a nod of your head, you confirm, “Theseus.”

Valdís shares a reluctant smile with you, fond exasperation in her pale gaze.

“Frigg help me, my boy will go raiding one day and insist they put white sails on his boats.”

For the first time you let yourself imagine it, seeing Valdís’ son grow to become a man. Seeing him go raid and explore when the time comes.

Unbidden, Aghi’s image in your mind is replaced by images of children of your own, children that too will one day grow and go raid and explore, maybe alongside their father, maybe even alongside Aghi.

And maybe they will insist on putting white sails on their boats for the sake of their foreign woman of a mother that waits for them to return.

And for once the dream doesn’t seem impossible, for once the hope doesn’t have to fight against nostalgia.

____ ____ ____

Soooo...? I’m really curious to know whether her choice surprised you or not tbh

Of course, there’s the particular aspect of telling him, but she’ll get there. Let it be known that she tried to tell him, but he didn’t wanna hear it bc pessimism. Anyhow, I hope this was okay, I’m not so sure but I hope it’s just my insecurity talking. Thank you for reading!

You can find the second part of today’s update, Chapter 40, right here!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years ago

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Everybody wants to rule the world (number 5 x reader)

Ask: the reader somehow survives the apocalypse and gets found by five and they spend a couple of years together, in those years they learn about eachother , unfortunately the reader doesn´t make it through the 45 years and dies somehow. When jumping back in time, five goes to find the reader at Griddy's and goes to check on her often and talk with her over coffee, when the apocalypse comes he brings her along with their siblings and also back in time and tells her he's not loosing her again

A/N: Hope this is what you wanted, they’re both 16 at the start like lets pretend instead of running away at 13 he waited a few more years. when he goes back in time to 2019 theyre both 16 just like idk its easier to write them both being 16+

Words:1917

Worked dragged on cold, quiet nights, sometimes the minimum wage job at the small town diner didn’t quite seem worth it, forcing a smile on your face at every new customer. “Can you go down to the freezer and get some ice please, sweety?” Smiling, you nod at your coworker, starting your descent down the steep steps to the basement. You never understood why it was placed quite so far down under Griddy’s but it was a welcome break, the near freezing air cooled your skin.

Deep into the freezer, you hear the door gently click shut behind you as you try to find any ice left at all. Once you spotted one, high up on the top shelf, you reach up on your tiptoes, your finger just skimming the cold plastic bag before you were thrown to the ground by an astronomical force followed promptly by a loud bang that resonated in your chest.

Before you could even gain a sense of what was happening another bang wracked through your body, followed by another, only for multiple hitting all at once almost like a nuclear strike, hell, it was a nuclear strike, that was the only reasoning you could think of to explain what was happening. Then it went silent, you find the courage to shakily make your way onto your feet, slowly edging towards the door.

Quivering, your fingers skimmed the cold door handle of the freezer, almost opening it before being thrown across the freezer by a shockwave, your back slamming against the floor giving you whiplash. Darkness filled the corners of your eyes as the world above you collapsed, the cold from the freezer almost freezing you in place as slowly, everything went black.

Cold seeped into your core as your eyes regained focus, as memories came flooding back tears came flooding in. Ignoring the pain from your back you throw yourself towards the door, begging for it to swing open to reveal that everything is normal only to be greeted with a door full of rubble. Without a second thought you start trying to dig through the rubble with your bare hands, almost instantly getting cuts and debris on your hands, only for a large rumble to cut through the quiet, you run away from the door as you watch it all fall down into the freezer.

“VANYA?”

Your head turns to the freezer door, seeing a stream of light just shining through the top, the outside world, and someone was there. “HELP!” You shout with every ounce of your body.

“HELP!”

Five couldn’t believe his ears, someone was still alive. He tried to find where the sound was coming from then he heard the call for help again, clear as day. Running in the direction it came from, he desperately searched for the sound of the voice before it was too late.

“Hello? Where are you?”

You see a shadow cross the small gap that separates you from the outside world, you hoped it was someone, anything. “I’m here! I’m right here. Look down.” The shadow moved back across the hole, stopping directly in front of it. Suddenly, he was behind you in a flash of blue, you turn to face him, not even bothering to question how he did that and threw yourself towards him and giving him a tight embrace.

When you release him and look around you’re on the surface, your eyes taking in the wasteland of the world. Your mouth fell open at the sight, turning around to see Griddys crumbled to the floor, buildings on fire and people lying dead.

“What happened?” Locking eyes with the boy, you hoped he had an answer.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. How long were you down there?”

“I think since last night,” Your eyes started to water as you spoke, looking at the smashed up Griddy’s sign lying on the floor. “I went to get some ice from the freezer and next thing I knew there was all these bangs going off, like bombs.” You mimicked an explosion with your hands before continuing. “Just before I could try and open the freezer door, a shockwave from something big hitting, I got thrown back and went unconscious.”

“Shit.”

“I’m y/n, I think we might be sticking around each other for a while.”

“Five.” He stuck out his hand, a sad smile on his face.

It was hard fending for yourselves, you were lucky that Five had some survival skills but even with some skills, it was hard. Two teenagers should never be left to fend for themselves, let alone be left as the last ones alive. You taught each other some vital things however, you teaching Five how to cook with limited food and supplies and other small things you’d picked up in your life and Five taught you how to fight and protect yourself, you were quite the team.

Slowly, you became more than a team, more than just two people trying to survive. As the years went on, you were surviving for each other, Five was trying to get the maths right so you could go back together, stop the apocalypse together and live happily, together. No label could describe your relationship but at the same time there was no need to label the relationship when there was only the two of you in the world, it was something special just for you two, the world was yours.

He knew everything about you, your job, favourite movie and book, how you liked greek mythology and the stars. On a night, you’d lie looking at the stars, running your hand through his hair and telling him about a different Greek God and their relation to the stars.

“And that one-” You stopped dead in your tracks, the moon was full but something wasn’t right with it, a part of it was missing. “Five, a part of the moon is missing.”

“Huh?” He squinted his eyes to look at the moon. “Holy shit.”

Now it was just a game of determining how the moon broke, if it was the moon that truly caused the apocalypse. You had plenty of time to think about it as Five worked on his equation to get you both back home. He’d been working on it for years, you weren’t sure how many years had past but you were both much older now, more mature and smart, even if you did have to educate yourselves using whatever books you could find.

A heat wave wracked through the area, fatiguing you and Five during your travels. You’d walked for miles in the blistering heat, there was a welcoming sight of shade next to an upstanding building which was a rare sight. Gratefully, you move into the shade and rest your back against the tall wall, noticing all the exposed beam poles, dangerously hanging exposed above.

But you’d run out of luck, it was bound to happen eventually, almost as if in slow motion the wall gave out behind you and down came the beams, piercing right through you. Everything was numb yet your eyes were open rivers, the memories of you and Five flashed before your eyes, he was your whole life, the love of your life and you ruined it just as quickly as it started. Five was right next to you, begging you to keep living yet you couldn’t hear him as everything went blurry.

“I’ll wait for you in the past Five, just don’t forget to come get me, okay?” You never heard an answer just the ever deafening ringing that consumed your mind as it went blank, all you could make out was him sat right next to you, saying something but you weren’t sure what. Weakly, you raised your hand to his cheek. “I love you.” You spoke, then everything went black.

Work was always slow on the weekdays, with most people being at work it made for a quiet and relaxing shift. A chime echoed through the diner, signalling a new customer. Smiling, you were met face to face with a boy around your age, almost looking at you in awe.

“Hi, how can I help?” Your pen was poised ready to write down his order.

“Black coffee, please.” He seemed nervous, you just smiled and went to get his coffee, coming back and pouring it in front of him. “I like your bracelet, it’s the constellation for Gaia, right? The Goddess of the earth?”

“Wow, yeah,” You smiled to yourself before locking eyes with him. “You know your stuff.”

“I had a friend, a long time ago,” taking the mug, he held it in both his hands as he talked. “They taught me all about the different constellations and their relation to the Gods.” He took a sip.

“I think I’d get along swell with your friend.” You leant against the counter, you felt a wave of deja vu as you spoke to him, he seemed so familiar but you were certain you hadn’t met him before.

“I haven’t seen them in years, maybe I could be the next best thing. I’m Five.” He held out his hand.

Gently, you took it. “I’m y/n.”

As soon as you released his grip, the bell rang again and in came people in black suits and guns, all pointing at Five. Just before you were going to speak Five cut you off.

“Duck.”

Shots ricocheted around the diner as you dropped to the floor behind the counter, frozen in fear you couldn’t move. You didn’t even want to know what was going on behind you, you just kept your eyes firmly shut, hoping it would all be some big dream that you’ll wake up from. As soon as the shooting had stopped you felt a pair of hands on yours.

“Don’t move.” It was Five, a sudden sickening feeling came over you followed by a wave of disotatation. When you open your eyes you’re in an unfamiliar room with Five, the boy you’d met mere minutes ago. “Please hear me out, I can explain everything.”

So you listened and tried to take everything in, the apocalypse, you surviving, building a life with Five and being essentially the last people on earth, then you died. It was overwhelming, the entire situation but one thing struck you, is there any proof?

“Can you prove it? Prove that any of this happened and that you’re not just crazy.” He sighed.

“Promise you won’t freak out?” Once you nodded, he handed you a picture, a picture of you and him but older. “After about 3 years of walking, we found a polaroid camera that only had one film left so we took a picture together.” It was most definitely the both of you in that photo, smiling behind a wasteland behind you.

“I also have this.” He pulled out a silver chain and handed it to you, it was your bracelet. “It’s one of a kind right? You’re grandad made it for you.” He was right, there was only ever one of these bracelets but he had the exact same one.

“So we were the last ones standing?” He nodded. “Cool.” It was not cool at all, it was terrifying.

“I’m going to stop the apocalypse, y/n, but I can’t do it without you. I can’t lose you again.”

You stare at the items in your hand before locking eyes with him. “Okay, me and you, we’re gonna stop this. I promise.”

#number 5 #number 5 x reader #number 5 imagine #number 5 fluff #number five #number five headcanon #number five fluff #number five imagine #number five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fluff

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seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 4 years ago

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Until Forever - Sirius Black

Hey you beautiful people! Last chapter of Part I.

MASTERLIST I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X |XI | XII | XIII

Chapter 14. 1978.

Darkness was infinite and pain would linger on forever. There was no hope; hope was the biggest illusion human kind had manufactured in order to keep going when there was absolutely no fucking point. A black void was everything that ever was; nothing more that the absolute nothing. She felt weightless, as if the waves of the raging black sea could tear her to pieces, throw her to the rocks. Then, she felt as heavy as the universe – drowning in the mere thought of water. Her body felt tired, her mind was restless; not in a good way. She though that life went on but to her, that was the saddest part of it all. It could end two ways, both equally tragic. Either she would die amongst the rest or she would live. She didn’t know what worse. Truly, never having the chance to see her family again or staying behind? Her entire body got goosebumps and her hands were trembling. She had tried to drink her problems away, just for a few hours, but it only made her sadder, lonelier. Until she left. She wasn’t celebrating – she couldn’t celebrate the new year. Each passing second, fate was approaching them, faster than she had ever realized. Usually, it was the past that made people sad; well, she was the exception to that as well. She really wanted to go home, for this to be over, to give up Hogwarts and magic and the people. She just wanted her home back, her life, her choices – the ability to choose. She was making a run for it. After half an hour of pretending, she said her goodnight, only to few people – well, to the Potters. She couldn’t deal with questions and avoided them like bullets. Once the doors closed behind her, all the silence of the world crushed upon her; and it was louder than the loudest sound. It was suffocatingly loud. Refusing to go back inside, she climbed to her room, kicking her heels off, before even closing the door. A soft tune was stuck in her mind and the Greek poem that accompanied it – the moonlight sonata.

Let me come with you.

This house can’t bear me anymore.

I cannot endure to bear it on my back.

You must always be careful, be careful,

to hold up the wall with the large buffet

to hold up the table with the chairs

to hold up the chairs with your hands

to place your shoulder under the hanging beam.

And the piano, like a closed black coffin. You do not dare to open it.

You have to be so careful, so careful, lest they fall, lest you fall. I cannot bear it.

Let me come with you.

This house, despite all its dead, has no intention of dying.

It insists on living with its dead

on living off its dead

on living off of the certainty of its death

and on still keeping house for its dead, the rotting beds and shelves.

Let me come with you.

Oh, are you going? Goodnight. No, I won’t come. Goodnight.

I’ll be going myself in a little. Thank you.

She softly spoke the words to the still air as she was looking outside of her window, a wave of nostalgia crushing to her like a tsunami. She was deep into her thoughts, into her world of roses, poems, stardust and a serene chaos. She felt at peace in the midst of a hurricane, within dramatic lines, written by poets with elegant noses and strong beliefs. The music kept repeating memories, stirring them up as it went on. She didn’t want a happy ending, she sadly realized; she wanted tragedy, passion and catastrophe; she wanted everything and nothing. She wanted absolution. Just like every heroine in the ancient tragedies; it was in her nature. He didn’t dare to speak, to make a sound; he held his breath in fear of waking up from the tender dream he was having; a vision right before his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but he felt pulled towards her as if he had no other place to be; as if he was meant to be in her room. She knew that someone was watching her, and she already guessed who but took her time to face with him, with an all-knowing smile. He was caught of guard, trying to retain his posture and temper or he would just turn around and run away for good. Feeling rather ashamed that he got caught, not that he was invading her privacy, he looked at the floor, blushing ever so slightly. She really didn’t mind. How could she? “Do you like it?” she airily asked him, as she remained by the window. He gulped. He knew she was talking about the poem he heard her recite but he couldn’t shake her image, entering the ballroom. Yes, he loved it. “I didn’t know that one” he admitted quite subtly. She wasn’t surprised; it was by a Greek poet and it was an intense portrayal of the subject of loneliness and alienation of the uncommitted individual. The lady in the poem represented that part of the old world, which the poet thought it was condemned to perish with its aristocratic past because of its aversion to adapt and participate in the process of change. She thought that if anyone understood that feeling, was him. “I know” she melodiously informed him. She was enticing and it was hard for him to stay away. Not that he wanted to, in any case. No, he didn’t know which magical poem had stolen her heart but he did know that she was standing under the moonlight, her essence becoming ethereal. How evident it became? She didn’t believe in happiness and that scared him; he could feel for her but even he believed that there has to be a better way, it has to get better. She seemed to contradict him by simply suggesting that there was no point in … well, anything. Such a hopeless wanderer’s soul, she had. She was made from a different material, a nihilist and an idealist, a desperate romantic and a catastrophic pragmatist. How wonderfully vague her outlines were. Maybe it was because she was wearing a gold waterfall for a dress, but he knew better – he just couldn’t stop gawking.; to be fair he was an 18-year-old boy. “Why did you leave so soon?” he asked her without hesitation, as if al the barriers had collapsed under the moonlight. She solely focused on his eyes and he could not avert his gaze. “Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques - I believe it is” she quoted Verlaine and that, he did know. Sad beneath fantastic disguises. Why would she ever feel that way? He was only fooling himself. He was lying, pretending not to feel the way he did, pretending that there was nothing between them, pretending he was happy torturing Marlene, pretending everything was fine and the way they were supposed to be. “Votre âme est un paysage choisi” he quoted back, letting her know that his French was so much better than hers and that he paid attention to the details. He truly did. It was almost inappropriate for her to like him or even to think about how his eyes shined liked spilled mercury under the moonlight. However, the biggest problem was that it was unrequited. He took one step towards her direction, fully aware of the fragile moment they shared. She saw the shift in his eyes and her entire mind was screaming to her to shut up. Everyone else was probably celebrating in the midst of an upcoming war but she was fighting another one all on her own. Keeping secrets from the people whom their fates were sealed and she could not do a thing was becoming heavier by the second and that broke her.

“What – what is really happening here, love?” he questioned her with a slight anger lingering on in his voice – anger that he didn’t know he was experiencing. She was surprised by the very thought of him being angry. He wasn’t angry at her per se, he was really shaken off about not being in the known, having blanks that he had to fill by himself when it should have been her answers instead of his imagination. She wanted to tell him everything and then her mind went to the time he spent in prison for no reason at all, and she swallowed hard. How would she ever be able to come clean about that. Remus was a bit easier – yes, he was still very hurt and shocked and everything in the middle but Sirius… it was always different with him. It was always different when it came to him – she was … “I want to tell you but it’s too much. Please don’t ask me to be honest with you. Not on that level. Anything else, I will answer. Not that” she finally told him. At least, she was acknowledging all the hypocrisy and all the lying, he thought. He wasn’t looking for that answer though, he wanted the real reason behind her entire existence in his life, and so he closed the gap between them. His tall frame was towering over her, her back was pressed to the wall next to the window and his eyes were piercing her face for clues. “No. You don’t get to do that. I have been nothing but honest with you about everything. You don’t get to hide now” he pushed further, making her arch her eyebrow. As he realized that he had overstepped the boundaries, he tried to take a step back but her finger was already poking his chest through his unbuttoned shirt and undone tie. “You? Honest? Really? Is that what you tell yourself before you go to sleep? That you are honest with me? Or that you’re honest with yourself? Because neither - “Fine, what do you want me to say?” he cut her off, revealing his hot temper with a flush that appeared in his face – something she had never seen before and she had to remind herself that this Sirius was not the one from the books. He wasn’t a character anymore; he was a real person – breathing down on her. She closed her eyes, not wanting to create any more tension that what had already been created but he was not having it. He wanted answers, now more than ever, even if he knew that he, himself, had been lying all that time – this was not the same. He was lying about his feelings; she was lying about everything. “Who are you? Who could you possibly be to come here through the fucking sky? To come here and turn everything upside down. To make me question things that I thought I had figured out long ago. To make me jealous of my own best friend and to make me want to destroy every sound thing. Who are you?” he bombarded her with accusations that he wanted figured out now. And all it took was one hot second before she screamed the answers back to him, each hitting like a bullet to his heart, each being louder and louder only to finish off with a dead silence. “You think you are the one suffering? I have been trapped here for too long, I miss my home, my family, my life. I want out. I am done playing a stupid part in this scenario. I know everything. I know how are you going to end up, when, where, who dies, who lives, who fucking betrays – because I came from the sky. The fucking sky. I don’t know how or even who I am anymore. I thought you were a book character and every single thing was only real in my imagination and the pages of seven books. But no. I fucking live in the damn past – not mine. NO. A past from a different possibility. Twenty years before my birth date. And of course, out of every mistake I could possibly make, every choice gone mad, I had to - ”.

Usually, there were two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When people were afraid, they tend to pull back from life, when in love, the open up to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement and acceptance. And while fear was easier, almost natural to them, they knew that they had to step outside their comfort zone. Not finishing off her sentence, leaving it there hanging in the middle of the thick air between them, was her way of giving him space to decide and her a breather. Her mind was yelling at her to stop and think about all those things that actually mattered but not every act was a result of sensibility. Her accusing finger was still on his chest; as a matter of fact, her entire palm was being pressed against his skin – not his shirt anymore. The information was not new to him; he knew, deep down he did. Each night before he would fall asleep, he was trying to decode and figure her out, even just a bit. He was repeating the things she had said during the day, realizing just how much of an insight she had and wondering if it was just that or… It started of small, a few words of more than wisdom were spoken, a few things were said that she could not possibly know about… and the ever-present aura of secrecy. Her tattoos were one thing, her words were another. It wasn’t news to him and she noticed that. Her anger calmed down to a side smile. “But you already knew” she concluded and her touch became gentler against his chest. Gentle as a fire. He looked at her with a desperate look, as if he wanted to do so much, to say so much but couldn’t. Sirius was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater. Instead of pushing her against the wall and kissing her like he had already pictured in his head about a million times, he stepped back and he sat on the bed, eyes always glued to her. “I think I did” he agreed, more to his own mind than to her words. She took a deep breath and used the chair in front of the boudoir, to the left of the big window, facing him while at the same time keeping her distance. “I still don’t think I can tell you everything, Sirius” she softly apologized but he shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s okay if I am the one dying, love, or the one going mad. You will tell when or if you’re ready. I’m sorry for… this” he said, indicating the space between them but she brushed it off. How much longer would she able to keep it hidden from James and Peter, she didn’t know. “Sirius… it’s not that simple. I know what I know from the books. So, basically, from I come from, the dimension and the time period, you, the boys, Hogwarts… magic, everything is fiction and contained within seven books that are not even about you. While these books go on, you are older and have gone through a lot. I know that part. I don’t know if it will happen the way it was supposed to, since I am here and I wasn’t supposed to, I think, but I also can’t change much in this plot. Or even if I can, I don’t know if I should. Messing with time and history is not something I am looking forward to do. Although, if I could change some things, I would without blinking” she admitted, staying as close to the truth as she could, without revealing too much. How could she face him and tell him what was about to happen to him in a few years? He wouldn’t even get to turn her age before Azkaban… and that hit her differently. “I know that there is something dark in the things you are not saying. And I know that I am neither the one who dies nor the one who lives from the way your eyes never met mine when I said it. Maybe the one who goes crazy but not exactly. That’s okay. It would happen either you were here or not. It’s better that you are. I don’t know if it is for you… I cannot imagine the weight of all those things. I am sorry” he told her sincerely. They shared so many things; intuition, depth, passion. And a five-year gap. “So you see, celebrating didn’t feel appropriate” she concluded airily. But he looked at her in a perplexed expression. “On the contrary. We should. Now more than ever. Because after all, we only have this moment, isn’t that so?” he proposed and she was astonished because he was right. He didn’t want to talk about it more, knowing that something bad happened to all of them, and that she didn’t want to say what. He understood her – it was cruel, such disastrous things being delivered by her. She held answers to questions they hadn’t even thought about yet. He could never blame her for not coming forward. Even though he wanted to be her confidant, the one she would spill her heart out he knew that she wouldn’t. Some things were better left unsaid… but…not forever. “You should go back to your friends” she suggested, as she felt worn out, wanting nothing more than to get out of the dress and makeup. “I thought we were friends” he chuckled darkly, earing a fixed glance from her piercing eyes. “Oh Sirius. You and I…we could never be friends” she admitted and there was not a single shy cell in her body. Her entire mind had shut up and every word coming out of her mouth was a sharp slap across his face, hitting him with the truest statement she could have said. He licked his lips and tamed his tongue not to respond the only way he truly wanted to as he got up and buttoned up again, to rejoin the party. “Remus knows?” he asked but it came out as a bold statement. He was jealous he wasn’t the first one to know this, or how her lips felt against his. He shook the image out of his head and focused his eyes one her. She was radiant but she wasn’t fooling anyone – she might have worn a gold dress but she was the moon, dark, secret and almost untouchable. Almost. “He does” she confirmed, realizing just how jealous he could get. She didn’t like possessiveness, mainly because she was the one being possessive in her previous relationships, but with Sirius…she could, perhaps, turn a blind eye. He was unexpected in every way, to her. He was biting his lip, deep in thought. It was tragically doomed and yet he found beauty among the disaster. It was fragile and soft, so tender but raw, catastrophe pouring down at everything. It was problematic – making homes out of people. But he had never felt more at home than with people; his best mates, his school, her. His house never felt like a home and yet he was surrounded by it. And now, a strange feeling washed over his heart. What was he doing, letting her go? He waned to kiss her, without a warning, with permission, without even deciding to do so but simply because he couldn’t think of anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him and he wanted it back. But there was that small voice, so ever faint, that told him it was not the time nor the place to do so. He had to physically stop from heading towards her rather than the door. And he didn’t know why he stopped. “Love, I…” he started but she gave him a sharp look. “Don’t” she whispered and he left with a heartbreaking look on his delicate features.

She found an excuse not to return to the party. She would find an excuse to return to Hogwarts as soon as possible, otherwise her entire being would implode and no one would even notice. She would just collapse under the pressure of knowledge and no one would even understand how hard her life had suddenly become. She was the girl who wanted to know everything, who went looking for knowledge every place she visited and she had become the girl who wished she didn’t know the future, who was oblivious and blissful, who stayed silent and didn’t challenge the world. It was too early. Too late maybe. No one was partying, no one was in the living room, no one was making any sound. She tiptoed around a bit. The fireplace was livid, calming and consuming at the same time as if it was calling to her. Everything will end up in flames. Not ice, but hellfire. It was the saddest thing she could have thought of. Protecting a breakable heart. What if she got the chance to leave? “Would I?” she whispered to herself. No. And that feeling of knowing that she wouldn’t be able to leave even if she did find a way, that she wouldn’t go back to her own family and her own life, that very feeling made her realize that this was indeed her home, that the people in this reality were her family and that this was her now. And she had to fight for her home and her family. She had to at least try. “We missed you at the party” a soft voice caught her off guard. She took a deep breath. This was it. This hide and seek had to end. Once she turned around, he saw how serious she was and immediately understood that something was off. His eyes were tired but alert, his whole body language was signaling that he was able to grasp the severity of whatever she had to say to him. “There is something I need to tell you but you’ll need to sit down, James”.

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