#in all of his actions i see anxiety and loneliness and anger and the overwhelming feeling of betrayal

[darkjusticiar]

I also have to say that now that i'm over halfway done w season 2 i loveeee armand. I liked him in the book too but i just keep thinking abt him he and claudia might be my two favorites idk. "Is that what makes you fascinating" like fuck dude lol

[milfnearyou]

                 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

      “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟑.𝟐𝐊 | 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐗 ���𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 (𝐗-𝐄𝐗𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐈)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: KIDNAPPING. TORTURE. PTSD. TRAUMA. WHIPPING. HARASSMENT. NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. MENTIONS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ELEMENTS. LIGHT TALK OF PERSONALITY DISORDERS AND SCHIZOPHRENIA WILL BE DELVING INTO MORE DETAILS ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.

I ALSO DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A SERIES TO PREVENT MAKING THE WHOLE THING REALLY LONG ON ONE POST SINCE TUMBLR GLITCHES A LOT BUT ALSO FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN’T FOCUS ON VERY LONG FICS :)

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

To say that you were hurting would be an understatement.

Everything and anything served as an infernal memory. Whether it be an object or something as simple as the weather, the effect it had could potentially be triggering for you. This new way of life felt more like a slow, painful process in which you were dying.

Overwhelming, things were now always overwhelming. Your anxiety shooting through the roof, the small person inside of you crumbling away into nothing as you screamed at the top of your lungs only to never be heard.

Your life felt orchestrated, the strings and rhythms conducted by no one else but Lucifer himself. With your pain, he created a symphony for a play, one that was to be forever engrained within your mind, body and soul.

It felt surreal, a simulation with you as its subject and yet, it was in every way authentic. None of it was a figment of your imagination, it wasn't just a bad dream but it was your reality. The scars that littered your body like a tormented and abused piece of canvas served as proof that it had all happened.

Your body ached, countless spikes of excruciating pains rushing through your many vessels and arteries, the nerves on your body were almost always on edge. It was difficult to hold onto reality, the point of returning being so far away that the thought of just letting go, would be a much quicker and simple solution. After all, you were halfway to insanity and the thought of being sane no longer remained a possibility.

It didn’t stop there. Your biggest enemy was your mind. The cursed piece of soft tissue that sat right in the middle of your enclosed skull was the one thing quickest to abandon you, betraying you within a blink of an eye and letting your body act on its own. It was impossible to control your thoughts when you almost always gravitating towards self-destruction.

Day and night, your mind screamed at you, unleashing a cacophony of howling, piercing screams that made your head ring. Blaring on and on, it had no limit. Going as far as venturing into your dreams late at night, filling your only moment of peace with countless nightmares. It was driving you mad. Always pushing you to constantly fight with yourself. You tried your best to ignore the urges but it seemed impossible.

Loudly, you'd scream into the emptiness of your surroundings telling yourself to shut up, to make it stop. Occasionally going as far as becoming physical, slapping the palms of your hands against your temple in attempts to strike yourself awake or hitting your head against a flat surface in attempts to knock the thoughts out. 

But there was no chance to wake up. You were long gone. Stuck in a deep slumber that caused your physical state to act like a zombie. Almost as if your frontal lobe had shut down. Everything occurring in a rather monotone way. Laced with a sudden breakdown that hit you every other day, exploding with fear and anger. The effects of your past trauma reminding you that you still had feelings within, that you had emotions but that they were no longer positive. The negativity overflowed within you and was always ready to burst.

You saw people, individuals who claimed they could help. Medically known as psychiatrists but in your opinion, middle-aged women who seemed lonelier than you were. Portraits of Persian cats hung all over their workrooms, the scowls plastered on the faces of the felines were ones also visible on the psychiatrists themselves.

They always said it was the voices, emerging from your previously traumatic experience. Well no shit, of course, you knew that. It was a no brainer that there were voices in your head, you had diagnosed yourself of having un-welcomed people inside your mind a long time ago. 

However, unbeknownst to the therapists themselves you also knew that they'd been planted into your mind from god knows how long ago. They simply waited for something to set them free, triggering the alarm and giving them proper cause to make you lose your mind.

All they needed was freedom and they were granted access to that with the help of a certain someone. A man who shared the same looks, name and identity as someone you grew close with, someone you developed feelings for. A man you fell in love with that had a terrible secret. It was hard to determine what exactly his secret was until you came face to face with it yourself. And when you did, you wanted out. Pandora's box had been opened and yet, it wasn't even your fault that it had.

You simply had to face the consequences of falling in love with someone who had a duplicate. Was it a clone? Or was it a twin? It was hard to say because he seemed to be from another world, a different planet even but in reality, he was conceived by the hands of a twisted mind. Fabricated inside a laboratory, only to be sent out many years later to wreak havoc upon your life.

And one dreaded night, he arrived. Snatching you away and hiding you for what added up to be weeks of torture. A show in which you were the leading role, the subject to many horrendous acts that one could never imagine. Acts that he always said were done because he “loved” you.

“You know I love you?” He’d say, all while his nimble fingers danced along the grains of your skin. Brushing up and down your arm as the fear raced through your veins. Your blood running cold, the hairs on your neck standing upwards. Your body was all too familiar with reacting with terror.

A few painfully quiet moments would pass, the sound of water dripping from the faucet, filtering into your conversation until he’d clear his throat. Leaning in forwards and resting his lips just above your left ear, his hot breath burning against your skin as you feel yourself holding in your breath.

“Silence isn’t an option, you either speak or be spoken for,” He warns and you nod rapidly in response. You knew the protocol and you knew exactly what it meant when he said that.

“Do you love me like I love you?” He asks. Circling from your back as he stands in front of you, using his calloused hand to hold your face upwards. Cupping your chin, his touch is moderately tender but you know that with one wrong move, everything could change.

“Define love,” You respond, not wanting to give him the direct answer he wanted. It would feed his ego all too much if you were to be so direct and yet, secretly he enjoyed you defying him. He loved how you didn't give in so quickly, it allowed him the chance to get physical and boy, did he love to get physical.

“Define love? I— obviously, don’t understand the concept of love as much as I'd like to admit. But when I look at you, the sickening feeling that emerges within me makes me think that yes, this is love. It’s everything that suppresses inside my chest, threatening to explode at any given moment. The oxygen that carries through my blood, that fuels the life inside me is filled with the thought of you. Love is, being alive and there’s nothing else except for you that makes me feel more alive.”

You fall silent at his response. Simply because none of it made sense, a cluster of babbled words falling out of his mouth as you stare at him watching as his expression slowly falls apart. The look of love is no longer there, replaced with infatuation, obsession and anger. He acted as if he’d known you for an eternity, professing his delusional love as if it mattered. As if you’d have a change of heart and drop everything within a blink of an eye just for him.

“...You must also understand that I love you because I can’t let him be the only person who loves you too,” He adds, “So do you love me like I love you? It’s only fair you do.”

“Love is a blessing in life. Something that isn’t forced upon, a concept in which— it may hold the key to your life in its hands but cannot be obtained without the honest feelings of another. It takes two to tango, not one, but two." 

Momentarily pausing, you swallow the lump inside your throat, pushing it downwards. Allowing the newly found courage inside your body to come forward, "...And I'm afraid I can’t dance with you.” 

Your rejection is something that hits him hard. Time seems to stop as the fleshy look on his face drops, the expression in his eyes have been replaced with a newfound fury. But it quickly wipes away as you watch him throw his head back letting out a cackle, his voice echoing inside the dingy, dark basement. 

Like a slideshow, his emotions were quick to change moving from pure anger to joy as he laughs at your response. You can't help but sit there and think that he's absolutely mad. A man who shares the same body, face and voice as your lover but seems to be much more cunning and sinister. He's evil and he proves himself to be just that with his following actions and honestly, you aren't even surprised at this point. 

His large hand that once caressed your face had now found its way to the knotted locks of hair, gripping it tightly as he shoves you to the ground. Pushing you down from the chair you once sat on and glueing you to the floor. The coldness of the surface is somewhat, soothing against your painfully hot skin as he presses your face against the ground. The weight of his body adding more pressure as he straddles you from behind, moving strings of your hair aside just so he can see your face. Amused, he smirks to himself when he sees you withering in pain, strings of saliva dripping past your chapped lips and leaking onto the floor.

"Oh dear, what a waste," He pouts, bringing forward a free hand to wipe your drool away. The tip of his finger now covered in your bodily fluids as he brings it to his lips, licking his finger in excitement. His eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as he moans in delight, "Deliciously, sweet." 

Disgusted by his actions you can't help but shut your eyes. Shielding yourself one way or another from looking at his grotesquely beautiful visage. Naturally, the tears also begin to seep past your eyes, drifting down your cheeks. You can feel him lean in, hovering over you. A whimper squeaks past your lips when you feel his tongue dragging itself across your cheek, it feels like he's about to eat you alive. Like a lion licking its prey.  

Removing his tongue from your cheek, he brings it towards your ear. Licking your helix before sucking gently on your earlobe, “I hope, you consider this next special thing. Perhaps, as a warning of some sort?” 

Pushing himself off of you, you can hear him rummage around in the drawer he’s got next to the chair you once sat on. The sound of metallic objects rattling around and clinking against each other until it comes to a halt. The silence isn't soothing, it's terrifying. 

Your heart begins to thump profusely, rapidly beating. You find it hard to breathe, to possibly calm down as your mind races with all the possible objects he could’ve chosen to use on you. A knife? Perhaps a nail gun.

The possibilities were essentially endless due to his massive collection of murderous weapons. But you receive your answer when you feel the long, multiple strips of leather entwined in cotton and tiny pieces of cattle bone brushing against your skin.

“Cat o’ nine tails,” He answers, introducing the weapon to you. Teasingly he brings the weapon up and down your bareback. Shuddering in fear as you feel the item grind against your back, the softness you feel now will be nothing in comparison to what you'll actually feel. 

"Baby, remember that I have to do this because I love you."

Thwack!

The first blow that hits you makes your ears ring. The sensation feels hot, tingling at your skin. It's a mixture of pain along with pins and needles, only getting worse with each blow that he gives you. The stinging had a pain so strong and immense that it was hard for you to even lay there still, writhing around on the ground like a worm on hot pavement. You began to feel overwhelmed with pain, your nerves essentially on fire as you struggled to keep yourself awake. 

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

You could feel the skin on your back begin to rip open, the crimson blood seeping from your wounds as he kept going. There was no mercy as you screamed, your vocal cords straining so hard your voice went hoarse. Slowly, you began to shut down. First, your hands falling limp at your sides, your body cased in sweat as you felt drained to a pulp. Then your screams came to a halt, the breathing in your voice drastically slowing down. Finally, your eyes began to droop, fluttering shut as you saw nothing but black. 

Was this the end for you? 

Jolting upwards, you topple off your bed and collide with the ground. Gritting your teeth in pain when you feel your back begin to burn, your semi-healed scars becoming agitated from the impact. Slowly rising upwards you panic at your dark surroundings but calm down once you realize that you're at home. Your sweet Maison, inside your calming bedroom with your lover sound asleep on his half of the mattress.

He's at peace with his soft and supple cheek squished against the fluffy pillow. Strands of his brown hair sticking about, his eyes shut tightly. You can't help but mumble to yourself about how adorable he is before leaving your room. Quietly heading towards the kitchen and flickering on the lights, flinching when everything seemed to be much too bright.

Your eyes gravitate towards the clock on the wall, it was four in the morning. You decided that there was no way you were going back to sleep at this hour. Shuffling towards your coffee machine, you brew yourself an iced coffee mixing in a shot of almond milk with your drink. Adding in a few ice cubes, you stir your drink slowly trying your best to ignore the pain in your back.

"You alright?"

Turning around you see Jongin, standing there shirtless in his teddy bear PJ pants. He rubs his eyes a few times before putting on his circular framed glasses, giving you a sleepy smile when he finally sees you properly through the lens. He looked beautiful in his groggy state and so did you to him with your hair flowing freely. Dressed cosily in his white tee with your supreme briefs underneath it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did I wake you up?" You ask, taking a sip from your drink.

"No, you're good. Can you make me one too baby?"

Nodding in response you turn towards your coffee machine, your back facing towards him to brew him a drink. "Latte?" You ask.

"Mhm, you know me so well," Slowly he wraps his arms around you, failing to notice how you slightly flinch at his touch. His hands travel towards your stomach as he hugs you tightly, placing his nose in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent, "I love you so much."

The scene feels all too familiar and it makes you nervous. Gently you push him off of you, unaware that your gesture has hurt his feelings. Departing from your back he comes to your side, leaning against the marble counter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He questions.

"I'm fine, just...don't, do that," You reply, the tone of your voice is soft, almost delicate as if you spoke any louder something would break.

"Do what?" He asks while bringing his hand towards your shoulder, frowning when he sees you dip your shoulder away from his touch, "You don't want me to touch you?"

Sighing you turn to face him, observing his hurt expression. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks at you for an answer.

"Nini, it's not that I don't want you to touch me. It's because I'm still injured from the incident, so everything's just a bit fragile," You explain, partially lying through your teeth. It was true you were very hurt but you also didn't want him touching you because everything he did reminded you of the other him.

He nods quietly, smiling softly at you as he slowly gestures you to have a seat at the coffee table, "I'll cover the drink, you go rest."

Sitting down at the coffee table you quietly enjoy your beverage. Jongin soon joining you, seated at the front. The kitchen is quiet, dimly lit by the singular overhanging light you've got on. Jongin's caramel complexion shining underneath the lightbulbs rays. His eyes are affectionate, his gaze never leaving you as he chews on his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I know it's been hard and I'm really sorry that you have to be hurting. I just wish that the incident could've brought us closer somehow but it's just, pushing us apart."

Drumming your fingers against the table you avoid his gaze. You don't know what to say, you can't blame him for what happened. But you also can't help but think that had you not known Jongin then you would've never met the other him. His twin or, whatever he was.

"I should've told you about him. Then maybe I could've prevented this somehow," His voice falters as you look up to see him. He's wiping his tears away, the whites of his eyes are slightly red.

"Jongin—”

"Tell me," He interrupts, "Do you see him when you look at me?"

Looking at Jongin, you can definitely see the other him. Except for the fact that the other him or Kai as he liked to call himself had dark green hair. Besides the difference in hair colours, they were pretty much identical. Opting to remain silent, he receives his answer.

"I wish it had never happened but, now that everything's passed I want to be by your side to help you heal. I want to help you through this," He explains. Nonchalantly sliding his hand forwards, he offers you to take his hand and you do, though not right away. Intertwining your fingers with his, you feel his thumb rub the skin of your palm gently.

"You know I love you?" He says and you can't help but shudder when those words come fluttering out of his mouth. Looking up at him you momentarily see Kai rather than Jongin and your heart stops. Afraid that you'll be punished for not speaking back. You say it back, in an almost trained responsive way. Even if the man that's in front of you isn't Kai but Jongin. You say it back because you're still afraid, you're still scared and those affectionate words do nothing but terrify you.

"I love you too."

   𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃: 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐅𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔©︎

[agent-cupcake]

Beastie and the Bard

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Dimitri x Reader (Chapter 7)

Yes, it’s been over a month. Unfortunately, I’m beginning to think this monstrosity is going to be a lot longer than I ever intended. Anyway, there’s some Sylvain in this one... Damn I love him.  

Opus 5,  No. 1 Dramma giocoso Act I. Apertura di Domani

Morning came. With it, awareness. A far off clanging of the hourly bells and the cold light of the winter sun slanting in through the thin window by your door, landing across your face and painting your vision with the red of your eyelids. Disgruntled and groggy, you moved away from the harsh beam, but it was too late. Coherent thoughts teased at the edges of your mind, the discomforts of a cottony mouth and a foot half-frozen from sticking out from your blankets. You fought it but even as you buried your face into your pillow and snuggled more comfortably into your blanket cocoon, distant recall was unearthed from the half-awake sludge of your brain. Each second ticked by with a more firm sense of lucidity, and eventually, you could no longer avoid reality.  

The White Heron Ball. The Goddess Tower.

Dimitri. You and Dimitri.

Your stomach flopped at the idea, all remnants of sleep wiped from your mind. Even as you tried to convince yourself it must have been a dream, that you were still half asleep and dazed, your eyes opened. Sure enough, evidence of the truth that surrounded you. The torn dress on your floor, candles melted to drippy stubs, a used handkerchief cast uncaringly aside. Other things, too. Bruises, sore feet, a twinge in your core. And memories, lingering feelings. Unrestrained desire upon seeing the fully revealed expanse of Dimitri’s body, his fair skin marked with scars and deceptively slim frame muscular and firm. A dizzy, shivering sensation when he looked at you with eyes half-lidded with lust, your reckless arousal to see his expression drawn with feral desire. The taste of his kiss, cider; his skin, salt. The masculine musky scent that filled your lungs when you were close, the sound of his groans rumbling in his chest. Dimitri’s lips on yours, his hands holding your hips, your bodies joined together, his touch unraveling you, sensation, stimulus, pleasure-

Dimitri, overwhelming you completely.

Memory rolled down your spine like a chill, urging action. Pushing off the comfortable blankets, you rolled out of bed and stood. It was too fast. The sudden shift nearly knocked you back down, head spinning and vision filled with spots. Pains that had been less noticeable while laying down demanded your attention. Without cover, your skin was exposed to the cool air of your room and prickled with cold. But you remained upright, blinking your vision clear. You had to see.

Reflected in the mirror was the truth entire. Bleary eyes, skin marked with bruises, and surrounded by a halo decidedly unruly hair. It was the appearance of someone who, last night, had given herself fully to a man. Studying your reflection, you tried to determine if you could detect a change. You were, after all, a virgin no longer. A girl made woman, unfit for the pure marriage your father had so carefully planned for. What would he say? You could almost imagine it. His anger, his disgust. His darling daughter ruined by a man she could never hope to keep. In that, at least, he would have been right. Shaking the thought from your mind, you took an even breath to steady yourself, watching your chest rise and fall with the action, following the trail of naked skin towards to find a change. Nothing.

Meeting your reflected eyes once more, you realized that the songs and stories were all wrong. Nothing had changed. Not you, not your feelings. They had been set as surely as if they had been carved into stone for far longer than last night. A dozen moments could have been the genesis; the night Dimitri happened upon you playing by the lake, that first battle when you were a puppet to the elation of victory, the stories he shared in the shadow of the stables; although you couldn’t entirely believe it was any of those moments, cherished as they were. The truth was far more simple, a cliche. Love at first sight. Twice over. It had always been Dimitri, even when he had been little more than an ephemeral dream in a dreary childhood. You would have had greater luck asking the wind to stop blowing than to stop your heart from loving him truly, to stop last night from being an inevitable consequence of your feelings.

You hadn’t changed, it was still the same you in the mirror.

As the memories continued, that thought lost its painful sense of charm. It was just you. Alone.

Dimitri’s goodbye finally came to be considered. It was an unbearably bitter aftertaste to the sugary sweetness of your coupling. As his final words returned to you, doubt followed, anxiety about the consequences of your thoughtless actions. Not for your sake, but his. For what it meant for him. To your love, you were powerless. But he was powerless, too. Dimitri was powerless against the goals he so desperately strived for, the drive that be belonged to so completely that his future was not his own. Last night had been a wish granted, and a reminder. No matter what you wished for, what you felt, Dimitri was not yours.

Despite the finger-shaped bruises on your hips, the soreness between your thighs, the red marks pulled to your neck by his overeager mouth. Despite the intoxicating and incomparable intimacy you shared. He was not yours.

Maybe you did worry about the consequences of your actions for your own sake, maybe you could only pretend to be selfless.

You looked away from the mirror and covered the evidence of his affections by getting dressed, pulling the collar of your uniform coat snug against your neck. With the same rigid efficiency, you wiped the makeup from under your eyes and brushed away the knots in your hair, tying it back. How frustrating that, despite your attempts in ignoring it all, your eyes burned with the threat of tears, your chest clenching on an empty feeling of loneliness.

It was silly, stupid. From the very start, you’d known that you couldn’t want for something more. You had to do as you told him last night, reject expectations of the future and live for what you had. Cling to these fleeting memories of perfection, moments to hang on your wall when the night was too dark and the silence too loud. You could do that.

The pain would pass.

Washing your mouth and smoothing down your hair for a final time, you rubbed the burn from your eyes and set out for the day, not wishing to linger in your lonely room with your circular thoughts. There was no class today, but that didn’t mean you could spend it wallowing.

The cool wintery sun that had woken you up blazed above. It brought light to the bright blue sky stretched above the monastery, although did little to warm the academy grounds. Clouds gathered on the horizons, bringing a faint mugginess made the chill air that much cooler. Judging by that, the hour was later than you usually woke up, although you could see similar grogginess among your fellow classmates. The ball had been quite the excitement.

At first, something akin to paranoia ran like bugs across your skin as you made your way to the dining hall, fear that everyone would see past your uniform to the memory of Dimitri’s touch littering your skin, that they would notice the odd gait you adopted as a result of the soreness nestled between your legs. But nobody gave you a second glance as you crossed the monastery grounds. They didn’t know what had happened, what indulgence you had committed. And even if they did, would anyone believe that you had lost your virginity to Dimitri, the crown prince of Faerghus? The only one who knew was you.

And him.

Even knowing it was a slim chance considering the hour, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd to find a familiar face. A splash of blue, of gold. Then again, during the day it was just as easy to find Dimitri by looking near the unmistakably tall figure of Dedue. You knew the poor odds, yet you found yourself disappointed in his absence. You wanted desperately to speak to him, to know what he felt. Not that he would discuss such things during the day, when other people were around. Normally he was too preoccupied for much of anything during the day. Training, studying, lost in thought. You wanted to see him anyway, to settle for simply being near him. Silly Thoughts. Your stomach grumbling was hardly an appealing trait to present in your misguided wooing attempts.

Half lost in your dramatic thoughts, you entered the dining hall and cut through the crowd. Waiting in the line, being served, and turning with your tray to find a place to sit were all done with automatic movements, your mind wallowing disconnected stream of worry and wishful thinking as you followed routine. Preoccupation kept you company with its bland ignorance, but not even you could zone out so thoroughly to miss the familiar voice.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Sylvain said, greeting you with his ever-popular smooth voice and easy smile, falling into step at your side. “I can’t help but notice that you look lonely. Care for some company?”

You nearly stumbled at the shock of being pulled from your thoughts so abruptly, head jerking sideways to look up at him. Sylvain looked as good as he always did, red hair messy but not unkempt and his uniform sloppy but not slovenly.

It was strange, but not altogether surprising, that seeing him would be such a happy relief. “Good morning,” you responded a beat too late to be entirely natural. Your voice was raspy, dry from disuse.

“Whoops, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Sylvain said, clearly unrepentant. “You looked like you were really lost in thought. I’ve seen that look before, you know. You were thinking about someone, right?”

“Uh, yes…” you said before thinking. Sylvain’s smile grew at getting such an easy confession, urging you to quickly clarify, “Well, not exactly. I was thinking about how I wished I had someone to eat with.”

“Really? That’s strange, I was just thinking that I’d love to start my day by enjoying the company of a cute girl,” Sylvain said. “Having us meet like this must be some act of fate.”

Some part of you still felt embarrassed by his casual flirtations, even after all the months past. Another tugged a smile onto your face, feeling a sort of comfort in the familiarity of Sylvain’s slippery charm.

“Must be,” you responded. “Is right here okay?” You paused at the uninhabited end of one of the tables situated on the opposite side of the glaring sunshine slanting in through the windows. It was difficult to not hold a grudge against its rude awakening.

“Here? Are you sure?” Sylvain offered, half-raising an eyebrow. “We could always go somewhere with a bit more privacy.”

“Maybe some other time,” you responded, shrugging off the flirtatious question.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sylvain responded, smiling as he set down his plate and took the seat across from yours. “You know, now that I think about it, it’s pretty late for you to be getting breakfast. You’re usually up early, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I slept in a little long. Not that I meant too, but..” You shrugged, frowning at the reminder.

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Sylvain soothed. “Personally, I think it’s pretty cute that you’re finally learning to loosen up a bit. I was worried His Highness had rubbed off on you.”

Well, that was one way to put it.

You made to sit, only to freeze when a pinching sort of pain between your legs caught you off guard, pulling a half-stifled squeak of surprise from your mouth. A not-so-subtle reminder of the strenuous activities of last night. It was impossible to cover for the reaction, so you opted to keep your head down as you sat, ignoring the unfamiliar pain and his curious gaze by grabbing your fork and picking through the pile of rubbery eggs on your tray.  

You willed the blush on your cheeks to cool. Sylvain couldn’t possibly know what you knew, or have been tipped off to what had happened by such a minute response. The reaction was no different than if you were sore from training, he would have no reason to suspect it was anything other than that. Yes, absolutely no reason-

“Sore?” Sylvain asked you knowingly. You stiffened, even more blood pooling in your cheeks as you looked up to his playful grin.

“What?” you asked.

“I guess I was right to worry,” Sylvain said, leaning in as if to conspire. “Did Dimitri work you a little too hard? His Highness isn’t really one to take it easy on people, I take it you’re no exception.”

Your stomach dropped low, the words only furthering the flush burning your skin. “How… How did you know what we….” you stuttered, physically unable to find coherency as you gaped at the man. “Did Dimitri tell you?”

“Wait, what?” Sylvain asked, his eyes wide in surprise. Genuine surprise. “I was kidding, but…” He leaned back, shock resolving into a thoughtful expression. “So you and Dimitri. Huh.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I mean, he asked me for advice, but… Damn, I didn’t think he had it in him.” Sylvain’s head tilted upwards, a smirk curling his lips. “Or, I guess, had it in you.”

A burst of indignant embarrassment was quick to ignite within you in response, your brain sputtering as it tried to think of a reaction other than the desire to melt out of existence. At first it was just shock that he would go that far, but then came the burn of regret that you had been tricked into admitting the truth right away. Anger invited itself as a quick rebuff of the crass joke to finish it all off, but after a second of facing Sylvain’s mischievous expression with your own disastrously flustered one, you decided to give it up.

“That was a joke- Huh?” Sylvain’s reflexive explanation cut off abruptly when he noticed the fact that you were clearly trying to swallow down a fit of giggles. His expression changed from overzealously apologetic to confused, the look doing nothing to help you from stopping yourself from the first bubbles of laughter. It was just too awful. Embarrassing, not to mention juvenile. Prying into something so personal and attacking the very thing you were most self-conscious about. Even still, the joke was a little funny. In a crude way. Completely awful. So you laughed. “Uh… Are you okay?” he asked nervously. “I was just trying to be funny, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Something about his tone of voice only made you laugh harder.

You nodded in response to his concern, breathless and unable to speak, waving your hands as if to deflect it. This was the wrong reaction, you knew that. Maybe you were more tired than you thought, exhausted by everything that had happened. There was no other explanation for why you were laughing. Certainly not at the joke, such as it was, and especially not at the fact that you’d just accidentally revealed a disastrous secret to him. Perhaps it was therapeutic. Laughing was good, cleansing, wasn’t it? Medicine of the same strain as music.

Eventually, you got yourself under control, wiping tears from your eyes and taking a heavy breath. “Sorry, that was… I don’t want to be rude, but your jokes really are terrible, Sylvain,” you said, still smiling.

He chuckled, although there was an awkward pinch of uneasiness to the sound, like he was still waiting for you to berate him. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Can’t say I’ve ever heard that from someone who laughed so hard, though.” “Sorry,” you said again, shaking your head to clear it. Like a leaf caught in a stiff breeze, your mood shifted, laughter no longer fighting off the embarrassment of before. “You, uh, you won’t tell anyone, right? About me and… And Dimitri.”  

“Huh? Of course not.” Sylvain laughed casually, although there was an abashed quality to it. He still eyed you cautiously, ready to be rebuked. “But…”

“What is it?” You asked when he didn’t continue that thought, eyebrows furrowing at the discomfort of his continued staring. Maybe you would have to yell at him after all.

Luckily, Sylvain’s gaze dropped as he shook his head, bewilderment crossing his expression. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for him. Dimitri needs a reason to loosen up more than any of us but… Wow.” He let the thought end there, picking up his fork to pick through breakfast. You let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah… Wow,” you echoed. If you stopped to think about it, you felt just as much surprise as Sylvain about the turn of events, the vertigo from the morning returning. Considering all you knew about Dimitri, perhaps it was all more shocking to you. But, having nothing else to add, you followed suit in digging in.

The food, cold as it was, didn’t taste half as bad when you had company. Odd how that worked. Even the quiet between the two of you wasn’t so bad. In fact, you half wondered if you were actually glad that one other person knew your secret. That made it more real, somehow. And besides, as much of a reputation as Sylvain had, you were certain that he was a good person. Out of any of your other classmates, you imagined he was probably one of the best. He wouldn’t judge and could keep a secret.

“I guess this means I don’t have a chance with you,” Sylvain suddenly said, before the silence could get too stale. From any other man, those words could have been uncomfortable, but a line was a line and Sylvain was a phony philanderer to his core. It made you smile, set at ease by knowing that things would be the same. That was good. Normalizing. You were still you, just like Sylvain was always Sylvain. And Dimitri… He would always be Dimitri.

“Sorry,” you replied, smiling with an apology you didn’t feel.

“Figured as much. That’s a shame, I’ve always wanted to date a musician, you know. Well, if he ever breaks your heart, I’m more than happy to be your shoulder to cry on,” he said, winking.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But if you break his…” Sylvain continued, his tone losing that playful sound in favor of a hard edge. “I’ll never forgive you.” His expression had become serious, eyes intense. Through a veneer of pretend, you saw the truth.

“You really care about him,” you said, feeling impressed at the revelation rather than intimidated by the threat. After all, the idea of you breaking Dimitri’s heart was more devastating than any threat.

Sylvain blinked, surprised by your reaction. Just as quickly, that was casually shrugged off, his easy demeanor returning. “Yeah, I guess I do. Someone’s gotta look after him, he’s hopeless when it comes to girls.”

“You’d be surprised,” you replied without thinking.

That made Sylvain laugh. “He might have you fooled right now, but just wait. Do you know what he gave the first girl he fell for?”

The first girl he fell for? For a reason you didn’t like, you felt more curious about that than the gift, but you forced yourself to play along. “No.”

“A dagger,” Sylvain said, leaning in on his elbows to properly emphasize the answer. Then he hesitated, head tilting as he fixed you with a worried look. “He hasn’t given you a dagger, has he? I swear, I keep telling him that girls are delicate, that they should be showered in candy and flowers. Unfortunately, Dimitri is as stubborn as ever. He doesn’t understand girls like I do.”

“He hasn’t given me a dagger,” you replied, slightly amused by the idea. How utterly Dimitri. But from him, that didn’t sound like such a bad gift.

“Heh, maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

Sylvain seemed satisfied with leaving things at that, but you were caught up on what he’d said before, trying to think of a way to ask about the girl Dimitri had given said dagger to. But, before you could speak, you were cut off by an abrupt interruption to your table. He came to a loud, halting stop above you. A Knight of Seiros, slightly winded. He was armored in standard Garreg Mach guard fashion, red faced and anxious. Youthful, maybe only a handful of years older than you.

“You’re Professor Byleth’s students?” he asked without introduction or preamble. While inciting a fair share of startled curiosity, the question also made your heart sink. It could only mean a select few things, and none of them boded well for the easy morning you had hoped for.

“We are,” Sylvain said, looking from you to the knight with a curious hesitance.  

“There’s been an... Incident,” the knight said, his voice lowering with the last word. “Arm yourselves and report to Captain Jeralt and Professor Byleth in the front hall right away.”

“What was the incident?” you asked in an equal hush, cool panic coming to life in your chest in place of the concern, squeezing your heart.

The knight looked around, hesitating as he eyed the dining room. He had caused a commotion, drawing the attention of nearly all of the surrounding students. This was bad news, and everyone could tell. Bad enough that he worried about the reaction. “I can’t say here,” he told you both with a softer voice. “But it is absolutely vital that you hurry.” He leaned down, his voice lowering further, somehow. “There are lives at stake.”

“Understood,” Sylvain responded firmly, his playful expression wiped clean in favor of one of determination. The knight bowed, then moved on, his pace a panicked rush.

You let out a heavy breath to steady yourself, closing your eyes for the slightest second in an attempt to collect yourself. To become the knight you needed to be. When they opened, you nodded to Sylvain. No longer was he your playful, flirtatious dining companion, but one of the most formidable combatants you knew.

He stood. “Let’s go.”

Dramma giocoso Act I. Coro della Pioggia

Students trapped in by monsters within the so-called safety of the monastery walls. If you were given any time to contemplate the mission before the Blue Lions were marched out alongside a handful of knights to deal with the issue, that idea would have terrified you.

As it was, there was no time for thinking. The things that greeted you in the chapel square weren’t normal demonic beasts, if you could ever consider a demonic beast ‘normal’. Somehow, these were worse. Horrific creatures wrapped in bandage-like black skin, their narrow heads eyeless and jagged-toothed mouth’s foul. They were strong, too. Far more than any of beasts you had fought before.

You, Felix, and Annette had been sent to the western side of the square while everyone else moved on to take care of the beasts further in. Not great numbers, but there were too many of the things to have the entire class fight them one by one. Besides, Professor Byleth had trained you well. Even without your beloved pegasus Siobhan, you were deadly.

That was good because although the monster you faced was bleeding in a dozen places, the wounds hadn’t done anything to stop it from rearing up and rampaging forward, swiping at any in-range victim with enough force to break on impact and belching flames. Cold and humid air, blackened with smoke from the fires, wheezed in thick bursts through your lungs as you jumped out of the way again, avoiding the swipe of demonic claws by no more than an inch.

Too close! You were getting sloppy, panicking as the fight dragged on.

Hitting the ground in a hard roll knocked the breath from your lungs and would certainly leave you aching later on, but you were on your feet in seconds, moving in a fluid, battle-fueled frenzy.  

Still too slow.

The demon whirled, finding you easily despite the lack of eyes and hacking out more of its noxious flames, sending you into a mad dance out of the way. The scent of singed fabric coiled around you, although there was no time to check if you were burned or not. Any pain was ignored, as was the way your eyes watered and nose ran from the smoke. All you could do was blink rapidly and try to breathe in as little as possible as you pitched forward, still the subject of the beast’s focus. As much as you disliked it, that was apart of the plan. Being the fastest of your team, using you as bait was the best possible short-term strategy for this vile, violent creature. Hopefully it was enough, you weren’t sure how much more you could- The monster wailed as Felix took advantage of the distraction you created by deepening the large gash on its neck into a mortal wound. Beast blood sprayed from the slash in a dramatic arc, painting the cobblestones and splattering over you. The smell was a disgusting mixture of acrid ammonia and hot human decay. A butcher house under the summer sun. A back alley running with the urine and blood of sleazy violence. The monster twisted around, letting out a horrific screech of agony, but Felix was too fast for its enraged and clumsy movements.

Following him, you scrambled away from the demon as it thrashed about, sputtering blood and weak flames, thick strings of saliva and bile dripping from its teeth as it struggled to breathe. Air pushed out from its mouth as if from a giant pair of bellows, but its inhale yielded nothing but a strangled gurgle. It reared up. For a moment, you worried that it would land a final, dying attack, rampaging towards the both of you in one last act of destruction.

Magic beat against its legs in a quick succession of blinding power. Annette stood at a dozen foot distance from the creature, her hands outstretched and face a pale mask of focus as she shot spell after spell at the thing.

And that was it. The monster lumbered around to face her, but it was too weakened and disoriented to move more than that. Felix had cut at exactly the right place, cutting off its flow of oxygen as well as catching a major artery. Blood gushed from the wound out at a rate you could hardly believe and air wheezed out as a chilling death rattle. Annette’s magic had ruined its legs, working into the gashes and hobbling it.  

The demon toppled, a final attempt to scream echoing against the ruins.

Inky, bandage-like skin unraveled from the beast’s form, dissolving into the smokey air like powdery ash with each of its writhing, thrashing movements. The smell was revolting, the sight confusing. By the time it was over, the hulking creature had vanished.

Its body never came crashing to the ground.

Although noise raged all around you; the shouting of students, of knights, the crackling of flames, and the general chaos of battle; cold horror formed a chrysalis of stillness in your head. The beast was gone. A human body laid where the monster’s corpse should have. Shock swept through your veins, long-ignored nausea pulsing at the back of your throat. Monster blood was drying on your skin and puddled on the ground, the stones at your feet were charred by flame, and rampaged destruction surrounded you - all of it proof of the beast’s existence. Yet there was no longer any beast.

A student, one of those you had been helping rescue from the rampaging monster, rushed to the broken body, shouting a name. Some instinct wanted you to stop her, to save her from the beast, but there was no longer any danger. Just a body. Your ears rang with the beast’s great wail, masking the girl’s cries as she pulled the boy’s corpse into her arms, uncaring of the beast’s blood that stained her uniform.

A human corpse.

A beast.

“Like Miklan,” Felix noted darkly, standing close enough for his voice to cut through the static in your ears. Recognition came to life with his comment, understanding of why this scene felt so morbidly familiar. Miklan. Sylvain’s brother, the one who had been consumed by the awesome power of the Relic weapon Ruin and turned into some inhuman monstrosity. In death, he had been nothing but more than a man, the monstrous trinket of House Gautier’s blood-bound weapon at his side.

But… That only happened because of the Relic. Ruin, one of the weapons of the Ten Elites. Professor Byleth had told the class to keep what had happened in Conand Tower a secret, to never speak of Miklan’s fate to anyone lest fear spread discord among the students. He said that it was not going to happen to anyone else as long as they didn’t misuse the relics.

“How is that possible?” you asked Felix, turning away from the sight of the corpse. “Without a Relic, how could he…?” The question fell unfinished, the thought made incomplete by your fear of the answer. Even Felix, ever stoic, looked troubled. He was much better at pushing aside his personal feelings, however, and adopted a look of focus.

“It doesn’t matter. We should push on to Professor Byleth,” he said. “The knights will see to the students here.”

Right. No time to slow down and think. Swallowing down the sick feeling in your throat, you turned. “Annette!” you called, your voice raspy and throat singed by the smoke. She looked up at your call, her face ashen as she stood above the student’s body. Knights and other students had congregated there, confused and disoriented and scared. Of course they were, it didn’t make any sense. Even to you, to Felix and Annette, the sight was incomprehensible. When she met your eyes, you saw a reflection of the feelings you were trying to ignore. For a moment, her wide eyes spoke of a doe-like panic, an animal before it fled. But she was strong. Her expression hardened and she nodded, resolute as she hurried to you and Felix.

“That was... Kinda awful,” she said, playing off her anxiety with awkward casualness as she approached. Something more was hidden in those words, the questions none of you wanted to ask about what you had just witnessed.  

“We don’t have time to talk about it,” Felix said. “I can’t hear any more beasts, they might have already taken care of the rest. Either way, we should go.”

“You’re hurt,” Annette said, her eyes fixing on your left arm. You followed her gaze. Oh. The fire had gotten you after all. Burns were such awful wounds, but these weren’t terrible. Relatively. Your sleeve was worn through from the flame in several spots, revealing bright red and blistering skin. As if to make up for the time you’d been able to ignore it, pain swept through you. The terrible stinging, insistent bite of heat. Burns were nasty, constantly vying for your attention, refusing to be ignored.

“I’m… I’m fine,” you said, looking away from the sight and pulling a vulnerary from your belt, downing the contents with a wince. The liquid was bitter, doing nothing to help with the nausea invited by the scent of the demon’s blood and smoke, but it was better than lingering on the pain. “We should hurry.”

“Yes. Let’s go,” Felix said impatiently, without concern. All of you had sustained worse injury and pulled through. That was the price of battle.

“I’m sure Mercy will help when we catch up with them,” Annette said helpfully, adopting a forcefully positive tone.

“That’s true,” you agreed, although the thought of getting to Mercedes was not your drive to get to the chapel. Even in the midst of a battlefield, you longed to catch up to Dimitri, to Professor Byleth. They would make things right, drive away your fear and worry.

Annette looked back a final time as you left the western area of the square, but you did not. You couldn’t bear to see the destruction or chaos, to think again about the implications of that vulnerable human body laying where a monster should have. The three of you moved quickly towards the chapel, at the ready for any indication of danger. Just as Felix had said, there were no longer any resounding roars of beasts echoing through the muggy air. That was a good sign.

At the same time, you couldn’t help but feel there was something off. Clouds filled the sky above, crowding in to hide the sun and condensing in the air. The promise of rain stuck the scent of smoke to your skin, the chill of it an uncomfortable sensation against your sweaty skin. Your arm throbbed. People passed, but no faces you recognized. Students escorted by knights who gave your little group curt nods of recognition. Other than that was an eerie sense of quiet, the pressure of a coming storm. Did it seem to have gathered too quickly? Too strangely?

The three of you finally rounded the corner of one of the destroyed structures, having to weave around massive chunks of rubble to get to the chapel.

And you saw him.

Blue, first. A blue so intense it drained all else of the spectrum in the area surrounding it. Golden hair, a lance in hand, speaking with Alois in a voice you could almost hear. The sky was darkening, the daylight drained away by the promise of storm, but Dimitri was brilliant. He was battle worn, but unharmed. It seemed everyone else had made it out all right, too. Mercedes was seeing to the wounds of an unhappy Ingrid, Dedue stood at Dimitri’s side, and the others were nearby helping the remaining students and knights get free of the rubble and tending to the very worst of the wounded. Every face was ashen, troubled. They had all seen the same horror.

The deep unease within you faded somewhat when Dimitri saw your group, his eyebrows unfurrowing just slightly. “Ah, we were beginning to grow worried,” he called, his expression one of relief as he turned from Alois. “I was about to leave to find you.”

Felix made a sound of derision, approaching with a casual gait. “As if we’d need your help,” he said coldly.

Dimitri nodded in easy acceptance of Felix’s rude behavior, his eyes scanning each of you. He lingered on the burn on your arm, a feeling that made you squirm in a way that had nothing to do with the pain. The burns didn’t hurt very badly after the vulnerary, but his gaze most certainly had an effect. As did the worry in his expression.

“We took care of the beast,” Annette said, her forcefully friendly voice offsetting Felix’s sour tone. “All of the students are safe in that area.”

Dimitri looked away from you quickly, clearing his throat. “I’m glad to hear that. We were successful over here as well. Professor Byleth and Captain Jeralt are investigating the chapel.” He gestured to the giant edifice across from the group. Destroyed. Utterly so. The main entrance, or whatever remained of it, was on the other side.

“Alone?” you asked.

The sky grew darker still. The storm was setting itself up to be a frightening thing, fog beginning to rise in the cool air. Something about that didn’t sit right with you. Reflecting your thoughts, Felix’s shoulders were still unnaturally tense, his sharp gaze roaming the area restlessly. Then again, that wasn’t uncommon behavior for him.

“Captain Jeralt asked that we ensure everyone involved was okay before joining them,” Alois said in his usual boisterous manner, although you couldn’t help but feel that it was strained, an act put on to set everyone at ease. “Hah! Leaving us to do the cleanup while he gets to play investigator, how very like him.”

“Now that everyone is here, perhaps it would be wise to check on their search,” Dedue said, looking towards the chapel. His voice was as unmoved as ever, but you could see the signs of worry in the way his eyebrows furrowed and lips drew tense.

“I’ll go,” Dimitri said.

“Me too,” you volunteered without thinking.

“You’re injured,” Dimitri pointed out, frowning.

“It’s nothing,” you said, frowning at him. He had to feel it, too. Something was wrong. The storm, the monsters. Cold crept up your spine, tingled over your sweaty scalp. A wet breeze made you shiver, a dull ache rolling down your arm. The clouds swirled in smears of steel, of slate, the forboding hues of charcoal darkening where they were the thickest. “We need to get back to the monastery before this storm gets too bad anyway.”

“Right,” Dimitri said with only slight hesitation, giving a resolute nod before turning to Alois. “Alois, can you see that everyone here is taken back to the monastery?” Dimitri asked.

“Sure I can,” Alois responded. “Although I was hoping to enjoy this fog. Last time I mist my chance, although I suppose I can just dew it later.” He smiled at everyone in turn with expectant eyes, trying so brazenly to relieve the tension. A tittering, vapid sort of giggle left your mouth without thought, a sound born of anxiety. It only highlighted the resounding silence following his terrible joke. At the very least, Alois brightened slightly at the reaction. “Right, yes. I’ll see that everyone is safely back to the monastery.”

“Thanks. We won’t be long,” Dimitri said. He looked at you. “Let’s go then.”

You nodded, trying to smother some of your worry with logic. Dimitri set out and you followed, pushing yourself to keep up with his long-legged stride. It was not surprising that Dedue fell into step as well. Some part of you felt bad for leaving the group to themselves, for shirking your duties to your class. But the first beasts had been found in the chapel. Beasts that were students that were monsters without Relics. Something was wrong.

The three of you rounded the broken down structure that once was the grand chapel. Now it was grand ruins. So much history destroyed in a single afternoon, it was nearly tragic. The artist in you mourned the beauty.

Thick fog was settling the dust of destruction, but it was also making the stone and grass slippery. Not only that, but the foggy darkness lessened visibility. You restlessly searched your surroundings as you walked, unease growing by the moment.

“Did something, um… Strange happen? When you killed the beasts, I mean,” you asked the two of them in a lowered voice. You scanned the terrain once more, trying to see past the trees, into the shadows created by fallen pillars.

“We can discuss that later,” Dimitri replied. That was a yes.

You wanted to push it further, if only just to offset the tension, but a raindrop hit your face. Then another. One, two, three. Heavy and wet, cold like ice.

“What’s with this weather?” you asked, half speaking to yourself. Like an ill omen, your words beckoned the storm. Just as soon as the rain had appeared, it was pounding down. The clouds created the darkened cast of night, the intensity of it sweeping in far too fast to be natural.

“Something’s wrong,” Dedue said, his low voice carrying. Your breath caught, but he wasn’t looking at you. He stared straight ahead, his face drawn tense.

“I agree,” Dimitri said, hurrying the last few paces to round the corner.

A grassy field sprawled in front of the destroyed chapel. You had seen it in the daylight before, the verdant grass swaying with the breeze, but now it was darkened by the storm into a gloomy, intimidating court of fog and ruin. Rain grew heavier by the minute, it pounded against the remains of the chapel with a furious hammering of sound, its icy fingers crawling beneath your clothes. Through the dark, through the veil of rain, a figure in the center of the field. Fog swirled, tumultuous, and you saw Professor Byleth with more clarity. He knelt on the ground, holding something. Someone.

“That’s Professor Byleth… and… Captain Jeralt?” Dimitri asked, his voice hushed. Your heart lurched, reality pulling inwards and freezing the air in your lungs as fear of possibility and dread overwhelmed you. And then Dimitri was running, calling out to Professor Byleth in a voice weakened by the aggression of the storm. Far off thunder rumbled uncertainly.

“Your Highness,” Dedue called, following behind. You couldn’t move at first, held in place by a dissonance of the mind. But you didn’t want to be alone. Blinking raindrops from your eyes, you ran. Wooden legs carried you forward as you followed Dedue across the field, your feet coming close to slipping on the wet grass with every step. His looming figure stopped before getting too close, hesitant to cross some unseen barrier created by the dead.

The dead.

Professor Byleth knelt on the ground with his back bowed against the assault of the storm. Below him, Captain Jeralt was absolutely still. A crimson bloom of blood stained his middle, running thin and pink with rainwater. Professor Byleth looked vulnerable in a way you had never seen him, drenched by rain and despair.

Acting on some weak, childish instinct, you reached out your hand. Seeking desperately, you found Dedue’s hand. Clinging to it. You were shaking, but he was steady. The large, calloused hand that you gripped was warm. Where you were weak, Dedue faced death with the steadfast and patient familiarity of a man long denied the comfort of ignorance. He had every right to shake off your grasp, but while his reaction was stiff and uncomfortable, he didn’t.

“Professor,” Dimitri said, slowly kneeling to at eye level with Byleth.

You held tighter to Dedue’s hand. His fingers curled around yours.

Professor Byleth didn’t raise his head, still staring at Jeralt’s face. He said something you couldn’t hear, his voice lost in the sound of rain. Whatever it was made Dimitri go rigid. His answer was spoken at an equally quiet volume, but the intensity was clear. It made Professor Byleth finally look up. His expression was unlike you’d ever seen, cracked with pain and emotion. Dimitri said something else, and Professor Byleth nodded. The pain didn���t ease, but it was masked over with grim determination.

Dedue took a step forward, your hand falling free from his. “Your Highness. We need to return to the monastery,” he said. “Whoever did this could still be nearby.”

Dimitri didn’t respond to Dedue, his eyes not straying from Professor Byleth. He asked a question, motioning towards Captain Jeralt. Someone would have to carry his body back, you realized. That was the question. The burden Dimitri was ready to bear.

Professor Byleth looked down at his father’s face a last time, a foreign tenderness in his expression. Pain. His gloved fingers traced Captain Jeralts cheek, but he nodded, standing up. Dimitri pulled off his cape to cover Captain Jeralt’s face, a late attempt at providing him dignity in death, then gathered the corpse and stood. Dimitri did it all unflinchingly, taking both the physical and emotional weight in stride. No, that wasn’t true. His expression was dark, drawn with pain. You wanted to say something as Professor Byleth passed you, but there were no words. Just the rain and the squelching footsteps as your group marched a twisted funeral procession away from the destroyed rubble of the chapel.

It was deafening.

//

RUH-ROH! 

Haha, just kidding, Jeralt dying is like Martha and Thomas Wayne dying, at this point it’s far more about the aesthetic than the tragedy itself. There are 20,000+ words left of this little opera, and trust me, the finale is worth it. Maybe. Hopefully.

Tell me if you enjoyed it. Or just leave a cheeky like. Or literally anything because otherwise I’m screaming into the abyss and it’s just embarrassing for everyone. I got a slapdash method of editing so if you notice mistakes I am sincerely sorry and it’s probably not going to get better. 

[mlmdarkfiction]

Long Lasting Solitude

For @pickingpixel

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dmitri/M!Reader

Summary: That voice.You know that voice.It’s the voice you’ve had haunting your dreams for the past five years.Despite yourself and the pain your eyes snap open.“Dmitri?”

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Being afraid of people is nothing new for you. This fear has existed in you for as long as you can remember, and with seemingly no cause. It’s a lonesome existence, the life you lead, and you dread the loneliness just as much as you dread the thought of interacting with others.

It’s one of the things that causes you to eventually agree to go from the seclusion of your home to Garreg Mach Monastery. Though it had less to do with your own wants and desires, but those of your parents. You, their only son, bearer of Crest Macuil, have quite the future ahead of you if you played your cards correctly. As your parents, they want what is best for you, and what it is they want is for you to have a real chance in Noble society one day.

Adjusting to school was hard to do thanks to your fears. Everyday since you first arrived it felt as if your heart was going to escape your chest from just how hard it was beating. Living your whole childhood as a shut-in meant despite the closeness of other Noble houses, you’d never actually met any of the other students you were now studying aside. Still…Your fellow Blue Lion’s tried to be courteous to you in return.

And yet at every turn it seemed as if you just ruined things.

Your fears.

Your anxiety.

Even now when surrounded by others your own age you still can’t connect.

It’s lonely.

It’s embarrassing .

The more days go on, the more your thoughts turn from fear of others to anger at yourself.

Of course, they would never want to speak with you, befriend you, you’re a pathetic lowly thing.

You end up  isolating yourself even more.

When you aren’t in class, or eating, you’re training.

All your energy and focus go into your Dark Magic.

You want to prove yourself, prove your worth. You’ve seen what the other students in your class can do, and none of them have dedicated themselves to the dark arts like you have.

Despite your shortcomings, at least in that regard, you are the best.

-

The other students have noticed your odd behavior of course. Some have simply brushed you off as not wanting company, while others are worried, and an even selector few (Felix) have decided that whatever is wrong with you is not their business.

And of course, Dmitri, Head of House, Prince of Faerghus, had noticed your odd behavior. Not only had he noticed, but he’d taken it to heart, somehow overlooking the fact you were just as skittish and shy around everyone.

He began to believe he had…slighted you in some way, and so he made a plan to make it up to you. He would not only apologize to you for his wrongdoing, but by the end of it all he was sure the two of you would be fast friends.

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Unlike Dmitri, Dedue was more than aware that your behaviors extended to everyone, and not just the crowned prince. He had even gone as far as to try and relay this message to Dmitri, who just seemed incapable of understanding.

And so, when the time came, and the prince inevitably asked for help in ‘Operation Become Friends With ____’ he didn’t object.

Still he was a bit worried about cornering someone as jumpy as you.

He’d done as he was told though, waiting until he was sure you’d settled down in the training grounds by yourself before informing Dmitri of your location.

For all it was worth cornering you was easy.

All Dedue really had to do to find you was to figure out where everyone else wasn’t. And the chances are if you weren’t in the least populated area of the monastery then you were in your room.

“Of course, it’s a good idea Dedue!”

The Prince doesn’t seem to recognize the concern at all as he makes his way to the training area, in his arms a small basket with all the supplies to make a makeshift picnic. An apology of the highest degree.

Still he quiets down the closer he gets to the training grounds. He knows he can scare you off if he isn’t careful. He’s done it before, but not this time!

This time was to be perfect.

When he arrives, he takes a moment to watch you, he’s transfixed.

Normally your face is one filled with fear, or at the very least unbridled anxiety but now in the moment, thinking you’re completely alone focusing on nothing but the target in front of you and the magic at your fingertips you look determined.

Dmitri may not notice the rush of colors coming to his cheeks, but Dedue does.

He gives a nudge to Dmitri, urging him to action and almost tripping the prince in turn.

“___!” He calls out excitedly taking a step into the center of the room.

Your reaction is impossible to miss.

It’s pure reflex, the way your body seizes in fear, as your heart begins to pound in your ears, it’s the heart of a trapped rabbit moments before the predator's teeth sink into its supple flesh.

Your stiff movements cause the spell you were working on to go flying, far off from the target you had been focusing on and to instead scorch into the stone wall.

If it were anyone else, perhaps you would feel silly to be afraid, but it’s not just anyone. It’s Dmitri.

He seems kind enough. As kind as anyone else, you suppose, but you’ve seen what he can do when he doesn’t mean to. That’s what being quiet affords you, perception. You’ve seen the way expertly forged weapons can crack and break under his simple grip.

It terrifies you.

The thought of what he could do to you if he touched you terrifies you.

“___, I saw you were here, I thought perhaps we could train together, I know we’ve never gotten to in the past, I even packed you something to eat, it’s late and I never see you in the dining hall and-“

He’s talking quickly. He can see your fear. It’s clear as day it would be impossible not to notice and he simply doesn’t understand. It frustrates him but he keeps it hidden behind his friendly demeanor as he tries desperately to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.

When you start to shake, he acts without thinking, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder, but that was a mistake.

You squeak, a pathetic sound, and then your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Dmitri simply yells in panic and confusion when your body begins to fall.

-

You fainted.

The Prince of Faerghus, simply spoke to you, and you fainted.

More than that though, you’re alone. You recognize the infirmary at least, that keeps your panic at bay. It’s not the first time, nor will it come to be the last you’re here. Battle injuries, training injuries, and seeing Manuela often landed you hear.

Although this is the first time you’ve fainted.

It’s surprising though for the teacher not to be here.

You shed the blanket from your body standing with ease. You don’t hurt like you thought you would after fainting, but then you remember, right before you’d blacked out…

Dmitri had caught you.

The realization forces a blush to your cheeks in both embarrassment and humiliation.

Even if you were afraid...Dmitri hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

“God...I’m such an idiot.”

It’s said allowed for no one’s benefit but your own, anxious hands reaching up to cover your face.

As much as you don’t want to, you know you owe the Prince an apology.

The realization causes you to groan into your hands.

-

Dmitri had wanted to stay with you after taking you to the infirmary, but Dedue had pointed out that maybe it was for the best if he left you alone for now.

After all it was him who’d caused you to faint in the first place.

“I just don’t understand…”

He says softly, the frustration and desperation clear.

“He looked at me as if seeing a ghost.”

“Is it really that weird your highness?”

Sylvain comes to explain.

“I mean...when was the last time you saw ____ talk to anyone?” He asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speak to anyone other than a teacher if he didn’t have to. He’s seriously anti-social!”

Dmitri sighs. Even if that’s the case he imagines it must be lonely. It’s because of that he can’t simply give up and leave you alone.

Not until you tell him yourself, in your own words, that you want him to leave you alone to your solitude.

-

The next few days are filled with even rarer glimpses of you than usual. Dmitri’s starting to believe that maybe he did really offend you if you’re going so clearly out of your way to avoid him.

However in reality the opposite could not be more than true.

Although you’re heavily fighting with your depression, and thoughts of self hatred you think that maybe...maybe this apology will be good for you.

Maybe after apologizing to the prince the two of you will become friends.

It would be nice…

It’s a nice thought.

Even if you, even if someone like you, doesn’t feel as if you deserve it.

So it’s not that you’ve been ignoring Dmitri. You’ve just been busy. Busy planning an apology, and trying to psych yourself up.

Even with the day of the apology finally being here you’re anxious. Your anxiety is so overwhelming that you almost back out entirely, but you’ve come too far to give up now.

To avoid having to see Dmitri face to face you leave him a note, slipped under the door to his room.It’s a simple note, simply  asking the Prince to meet you at the gazebo come nighttime.

That’s easier. If it’s night time well...you won’t have to deal with anyone else seeing you.

-

And Dmitri finds the note, after finally returning to his room. He had spent a majority of his day with Byleth, teaching swordsman ship to the various orphans who lived in the monastery, and after he and the professor had gotten a very late dinner.

By the time he reads the note he fears you won’t be waiting on him anymore. After all, it's twenty minutes from when you’d asked to meet him.

It doesn’t stop the prince though, he doesn’t hesitate to drop everything,not even bothering to close the door to his bedroom as he takes off for the gazebo.

He fully expects to find you asleep, or simply not there at all. And he wouldn't have blamed you.

In fact more than anything else he’s surprised to find you seated there in the dark, the only light beneath the gazebo the single candle you had brought with you.

Dmitri does take note of how tired you look though. He imagines you must have been waiting even long before the note had asked to meet.

You’re dozing, half asleep, but far from actually losing consciousness. Fear keeps you awake.

Fear of someone finding you.

Fear of being exposed.

Fear of-

You wonder if Dmitri’s actually going to show up.

The thought of simply leaving had already occurred to you. Just because you’d left him a note didn’t mean Dmitri would come, it didn’t mean he’d actually want to see you.

To think even for a moment that he would-

Maybe you really are nothing more than a fool.

The self deprecating line of thoughts don’t continue, they don’t get a chance to.

Because there the prince is before you, in all his sweaty glory. A single hand is raised to greet you before going to join his other on his knees as he doubles over from the exertion of his run here.

He must have , you realize, ran from his room on the other end of the monastery all the way here.

For once you find yourself unafraid of the prince. To your own confusion. In the moment you are bemused but relieved and happy all at once to see he actually decided to show himself.

-

That night was what led to your eventual coming out of your shell, even if only slightly. Instead of spending all of your time alone you spent a large chunk of your time with the Prince now, which in turn, led to you spending a lot of time with your fellow Blue Lions. You were still afraid at times, you still felt undeserving of their friendships.

But unlike before you didn’t find yourself hiding away when you were afraid. No, now you hid behind Dmitri.

It caused mixed emotions in the young man.

On one hand something about the way you relied on him made him incredibly happy, to know that you trusted him enough to hide away from the rest of the world, relying on him for protection...It made his heart swell with pride.

You trusted him!

But on the other hand, as always, your fears only led to confuse and worry him. Sometimes they just made no sense to him at all. Dmitri could understand, maybe, being frightened of Felix and his hostile demeanor, but Flayn?

He can’t imagine anyone being afraid of the young girl, and yet there you were, cowering behind him as if she were a threat to your very life.

More than anything though, he was...somewhat saddened.

Dmitri had long ago reserved himself to the fact that his life was not his own. That he had goals for which he would risk his very life, and those goals left little room for close attachments.

The kind of close attachment the two of you shared.

In a way, it was Dmitri who began to fear you. After all, how could one person make him consider wavering in his convictions?

Still...He decides to make the best of the time he does have with you.

Surely one day you’ll understand.

After all, the world he wants, a world where those who cause tragedies would be brought to justice, would result in a world in which you no longer have anything to be afraid of.

Until then, until he’s King, and his time is focused on his overarching goal, he decides to savor the moments he has with you.

So while Dmitri is confused, flustered, and flattered when you ask him to go as your date to the dance that accompanies the White Heron Cup, he finds himself agreeing cheeks burning red.

He wonders what this means for him.

For you.

For the both of you.

-

To say you weren’t surprised at the situation, yourself, your actions, it would all be a lie.

Though you’re far more surprised at your own courage to ask Dmitri to accompany you to the dance was the fact that he had actually said yes.

You don’t know what you were expecting, really.

The doubtful, mean part of your mind tries to tell you that Dmitri simply pities you. That his yes was simply the result of that pity, but for once you don’t care.

You are far too related to allow yourself to ruin such happiness.

It was something Dmitri had been telling you for a while now, something you were trying to believe yourself;

The simple fact that you do deserve to be happy.

-

Happiness is never meant to last.

In the future, that’s the thought that will come to mind when you think of the events that take place.

The ending of not just your own personal happiness, but the happiness of all of Fodlan.

The end of happiness, the start of a war.

“I will take the head from your shoulders...and I will hang it from the gates of Enbarr!”

For the first time in a long time fear grips you at the mere sight of Dmitri.

His anger- although justified in your mind- was so unhinged, so unlike him.

You find yourself unable to move, frozen alongside the professor as you watch the man you had found yourself falling for brutally crush the skull of an imperial soldier in his hands as if it were nothing.

Petrified does not begin to describe how you feel.

But when Byleth moves so do you, taking up arms.

There is no time for fear, not here, not now, not after everything the Flame Emperor- no, not after everything Edelgard has done.

-

It has been five years. Five years since the war started. Five years since you had last stepped foot in Garegg Mach. Five years since you had last seen Dmitri, the Professor, or any of the others you had grown to call your friends.

And five years is, in the span of a war, no small amount of time at all. Yet, in the span of a human life it is, and although your past five years have been filled with grieving for the past, you’ve found yourself changed very little.

You may not have changed, but the world around you has. Fodlan continues to constantly move and change under the unyielding hands of time.

The lands that had once belonged to you and your noble family have been taken under the control of the Empire, or to phrase more accurately, they were seized by the she-witch Cornelia and given to the Empire.

Of course your family opposed the takeover, still there’s little to nothing you can do. Any attempt at stopping it would simply put your own lives on the line.

Although you’re a noble family, you have no tropes, and you no crest to rely on.

There’s no point in fighting a fight that would only result in you being killed, not even as a martyr.

But you’ve been biding your time, waiting to keep your part of the promise you and everyone else made so long ago.

Your parents were confused, rightfully so, when you told them that you were going to return to Garreg Mach Monastery.

On your own you’d prepared everything, a horse, rations, and enough tomes to get you there safely come Imperial Soldiers, or bandits.

Returning is something you simply have to do.

Even if the Professor and Dmitri are both-

No .

You won’t allow yourself to think such sad things, not now.  

And if they are gone, truly gone, there is no better way to honor both their memories than by showing up, just like you had promised.

-

The monastery is absolutely swarming with Imperial Soldiers, but you knew this might be the case.

With a hard swallow you make yourself known, blasting through one of the already crumbling monastery walls, cringing as the screams of the crushed soldiers reaches your ears.

Killing was...a sad reality of war.

At the very least, the violence had cleared your path way and-

“____? Is that you?”

A familiar face and voice.

Never before had you been so relieved to see another human person before.

“Ashe!”

Hope swells in your chest. The others came. They really came back.

It’s more than you could have imagined.

An arrow goes whizzing past your head, ending the reunion for now.

You’ll fight.

You’ll win back the monastery, and then you’ll be able to see all of your friends again and maybe…

“Your highness!”

Gilbert’s voice bellowing across the battlefield gets your attention, and distracts you. Surely he doesn’t mean Dmitri. He’s dead.

You’d heard the news ages ago everyone had.

But maybe-

Your eyes scan the battlefield in a blind panic, trying to catch sight of the man you loved, and you find him.

He’s tearing through soldiers like they’re nothing.

Each man that tries to oppose him falls under his spear, cut through entirely.

It’s scary.

He scares you.

The look on his face is so similar to the one he’d had long ago when the Flame Emperor had been unmasked.

It turns your stomach.

Your guard is down. So focused on Dmitri, the feelings of horror mixed with utter relief that he’s even alive, that you don’t notice the approaching soldier behind you.

At least not until the blade of their axe digs into your shoulder.

All thoughts of Dmitri fade as you focus on the pain.

The blade rips itself from your flesh and you find yourself falling to the ground, knees buckling under you from the weight of it all.

Your warm blood soaks through your armor, in a weird way comforting you from the cold night air.

“This isn’t…”

This isn’t how this was supposed to happen.

But your words are spoken for no one. No one is close enough to hear, to see, they’re all too busy fighting for their own lives.

“Dmitri?...”

Blood loss and pain, you’re far too out of it to realize what you’re seeing now is real.

That Dmitri himself is there, cutting down the berserker who’d slain you with his axe, and anyone who follows after him.

It’s only because you lose consciousness that you don’t hear the wailed howl of a main who thinks he’s lost yet another person important to him.

-

“He’s stable but-”

Dmitri doesn't stop to hear the rest, he’s picking up your unconscious body with intent to move. You’ll be safer inside the monastery, a bed, the warmth of a fire, anything’s better than outside.

“Dmitri!” Mercedes gasps when he refuses to listen. “You have to be careful not to reopen-”

“There’s no point in trying to reason with a Boar, Mercedes.”

Felix says eyes narrowed as they follow the path of the man as he hides deeper within the monastery.

The constant roaring in Dmitri’s head doesn’t stop as he carries you to the makeshift infirmary. Other wounded are being brought in, laid on the makeshift cots and beds.

He remains quiet, placing your unconscious form among them in the nicest looking spot he can find.

Although you seem to be fine now, he knows no rest from torment.

The voices in his head torment him, reminding him that (truthfully or no) your injuries are ultimately his fault.

Just like everything else, it’s his fault.

He should have tried harder.

He should have been there.

Worse of all is the simple fact, if it wasn’t for him you would have never returned to the monastery in the first place.  

He shouldn’t stay.

The last thing Dmitri wants is to get your hopes up for something that can never be.

In the past five years, since the last time he’s seen you, he’s become little more than a monster.

And a monster doesn’t deserve any semblance of happiness.

Dmitri knows he should leave.

But he just can’t force himself to go. Not before he knows you’re okay.

As soon as you’re awake, then he’ll leave.

Hours are spent in the makeshift infirmary, Dmitri staring at your unmoving body, steadily watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, ready to call for a healer the moment anything seems to be out of the ordinary.

Byleth tries to get him to leave, or get some sleep, but there’s no hiding the bitterness in Dmitri’s voice as he tells them;

“Even if I were to leave...I wouldn’t get any sleep. So please, just leave me be, Professor.”

They do.

There’s no point in trying to reason with Dmitri, not when he’s like this, unable to see or respond to reason.

-

Night passes, and still you do not wake from your deep slumber.

You’re unaware of the fact you’re being watched. A constant companion for you in your dreamless slumber.

When you do finally wake the first thing you notice is the pain. You don’t open your eyes, in fact you keep them clenched in an attempt to hide away from the pain wracking your being.

The shifting at your side catches your attention, and although you try to open your eyes you still can’t bring yourself to actually manage it. “Are you finally awake, ____?”

That voice.

You know that voice.

It’s the voice you’ve had haunting your dreams for the past five years.

Despite yourself and the pain your eyes snap open. “Dmitri?”

“Good.” He wants to tell you he’s glad you’re okay.

Wants to tell you to be more careful, because he isn’t sure if he can take you of all people dying too, but instead he simply nods, rising to his feet.

“Be more careful next time.”

You aren’t able to stop his leave, forced to listen to the heavy sound of his footsteps as the trail away from you.

Even if you could stop him, you aren’t sure what you would say.

Those eyes…

He’s the same man, surely, but those eyes seem so unfamiliar to you now.

What would you have told him if he’d stayed?

You don’t even know.

But god you wish he had stayed.

The moment you try to move, maybe to go after him, maybe to simply sit up, pain shocks your core and you cry out, getting the attention of Mercie.

“Don’t- Don’t move too much.” She says softly gently laying you back

“Dmitri,” You start to ask her. “What happened to him?”

Mercedes expected the questions. Everyone had been wondering, and what little explanation they’d gotten from the Professor, and Gilbert were hardly comforting.

And even then it was mostly hearsay with no words from Dmitri himself to confirm or deny.

You hadn’t heard any of it, having been unconscious here in the infirmary.

She does her best to relay it all to you.

“We thought...We’d all heard that he’d been executed.”

You nod. This wasn’t news to you.

They had framed Dmitri, put him to death.

“But...he survived?”

Mercedes nods.

“We think that Dedue-”

She doesn’t finish, but you know what it is she was going to say. It’s easy to tell from her choked voice, downcast eyes.

You forcibly swallow the lump in your own throat.

“I see.”

In a way it’s something you should have suspected from the start. Dedue was always loyal to Dmitri, and you were sure that one day he would die to protect the man.

The thought surely occured to the others as well, but surely none of you imagined that day to come so soon.

“And after?...”

The bandages on your shoulder are removed, and Mercede’s quickly gets to work disinfecting what of your wound she can. You almost gag, catching sight of the bloody wound from the corner of your eyes, and so you take to squeezing them shut instead.

“Well you’ve heard...haven’t you?” Each word is spoken quietly, and when you don’t respond she continues.

“You haven’t heard? There’s been talk of an unkillable war machine going through the Kingdom, killing Imperial soldiers and bandits alike.”

“And you think that Dmitri?...” You don’t need her response.

It fits.

It sounds fitting given what you’d seen on the battlefield.

“I need to see him.”

She hasn’t finished cleaning your wound, your sudden movements cause yourself pain, and Mercede’s panic.

“You can’t ____!” She says softly trying to once again ease you into bed, but she’s being far too careful, afraid to hurt you. This makes it easy for you to ignore her attempts and stand, wobbling, on your feet.

“If you aren’t careful you’ll reopen that wound! You could bleed out!”

“Sorry Mercie,” Although you apologize you don’t stop, continuing out of the infirmary.

Every step is painful, and in retrospect you probably should have let her bandage it back up, or found a shirt to wear, but you don’t stop now.

You have to find Dmitri.

Everything about the Monastery has changed since it’s prime five years ago. Nowhere has been left unscathed by the waves of time.

You wonder what type of people would be so willing to desecrate a religious site.

Were they vindictive Imperial soldiers sent by the Empress herself? Looking for Rhea, looking to destroy any semblance of power the church held?

Or were they bandits? Uncaring about the importance of the holy lands they walked upon, destroying for the sake of destruction.

Maybe they were thieves. People that had no choice but to fight and ransake any building no matter how holy in an attempt to just survive another day.

The fallen stone is cool against your palm.

If even a place as mighty and holy as this has fallen, what are the chances for all of you?

Eventually your mindless wandering of the Monastery pays off, you find Dmitri, and you find him somewhere you wouldn't have imagined.

Kneeled below the crumbled goddess statue.

There’s no one else there, likely all having abandoned the cathedral when Dmitri made his presence there known.

You’d gone through all this trouble to find him, your aching shoulder proof of the strain it’s taken on your injured body, and yet you find yourself speechless before him.

He looks like something out of a painting, facing away from you, blonde hair cascading over his face, as rays of the setting sun filter in from the holes in the Cathedral roof.

He’s ethereal.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, at least that’s what you’re led to believe, he doesn’t move or stir even as the steady sound of your footsteps on the stone floor come closer.

“Professor,”

Dmitri speaks, and your heart sinks.

Of course he wasn’t expecting you. He was expecting Byleth.

“I find myself at a loss for what to do,”

His voice sounds...broken and torn.

You find yourself wanting to reach out, or...at the very least let him know you’re not the professor, but...you find yourself remaining silent instead as he continues on.

“To have something, or...someone to fight for in the here and now...Something other than the voices from beyond constantly asking for me to avenge them….Do I deserve that?”

The words you considered saying died on your tongue with each and every word he says. Anytime you think you’re ready to respond, he says something that makes you hesitate.

“____ is here, and very much alive...F-For now.” His voice falters just a little as he thinks of you, in the infirmary, deep wound bandaged on your shoulder.

“And although I would love to act as if nothing has happened, if nothing has changed, it has. I’m not the same man he once knew.”

Oh.

He was thinking about you.

“Even if...It’s not fair to him, is it professor?”

He turns then, likely to gauge Byleth’s reaction, as they are ever the quiet listener, hardly a replier, and instead of the professor he finds you there in their stead.

“____.” His eye widens, and he opens his mouth to say something. His face goes through a clear trial of emotion; confused, shocked, and embarrassed before finally settling on a mask of nothingness to hide it all.

“I’m sorry-”

The words quickly tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to over hear, but Dmitri-”

Although he had only just been thinking, and discussing with what he thought to be the professor, what it is he would say to you if he allowed himself to, he’s still stricken silent by the mere sight of you.

But you don’t give him a chance to worry about speaking.

“Dmitri...More than anything, I’m simply glad that you’re alive. I thought that...We all had thought…”

You don’t finish that thought, quickly going onto the next, afraid the man will interrupt you before you’re able to get all of your thoughts out to him.

“If you’re a different man, truly, than who you were before, then...When the war is over, if we both make it, I’d like to get to know this new man.”

There’s no way for you to know for sure if he really is a different man, or if the war, the trauma of war, has made him feel as if he’s different. Maybe by the end of the war you’ll be an entirely different man too.

There’s no way to know for sure, not now.

The war inside Dmitri’s own head simply wages on. Such kindness, a second or third chance, it’s more than he deserves, and yet at the same time it brings him hope.

It’s exactly what he needed.

A hope to cling to outside of that of simply appeasing the neverending onslaught of the dead. Admittedly he had held no real plan of what to do after the war, if he had made it so far. He never stopped to think about what and if he survived.

There was never any reason to think of it.

Just when the time came, when Edelgard finally met her end at his blade, he would wander off somewhere, into the wilderness like a wounded animal to die in his solitude.

The relationship the two of you had shared five years prior, during your times as students of the very monastery you found yourself in now, was undeniably romantic.

Chaste, and innocent, but romantic.

Dmitri ends that now.

He’s a quiet, seething, hungry animal as he approaches you. There is no chance of reaction, no panic, or escape.

“Wha-”

Lips smash against your own effectively silencing you.

It’s not what you’d imagined finally kissing Dmitri to be like.

You had always imagined your first kiss to be romantic, that his lips would be soft, but it’s neither of those things.

His whole body encompases yours, a dangerously tight grip pulling your body to him as his rough lips assault your own.

No, it’s not what you had imagined, but...it’s better.

Both of you are desperate, needy, sloppy.

Neither of you are experienced with kissing, but you don’t have to be. The kiss itself is a representation of both of your years of unspoken words and yearning.

When the kiss ends, Dmitri is panting still. His face is flushed and he looks hesitant, surprised. Because he is surprised by himself.

Surprised by the sudden uncontrollable urge he’d had to kiss you.

“A-After the war,” He begins softly, still holding you against him, one hand going to rest on your cheek, the glove cold against your flushing face. “If we both live that long.”

Dmitri doesn’t know if he’s being truthful in promising you this.

More than anything he would like to be telling you the truth, but…

He knows no things are guaranteed in this world, and he’s already damaged goods.

What he doesn’t know is for which of you he’s making the unsure promise.

Is it to shield your fragile heart from the real possibility of heartbreak?

Or is it for himself? Is it some attempt to keep his humanity, a hope that if he has just one thing to cling and claw at that he won’t allow himself to slip any further into depravity.

And then there’s you.

Unaware of Dmitri’s internal dialogue, but knowing him so well even now to know he may be lying to you.

It’s clear in the trembling of his bottom lip, the tears pooling in his eyes but refusing to fall.

You make your choice.

And that choice is to believe in Dmitri.

To believe that something waits for you both at the end of all this violence and bloodshed.

So you’ll believe him.

Until the end of the war.

Until the very end.

“Right...After the war,” You nod in agreement, but don’t move away.

Still so close to him you can feel every rise and fall of his chest, even with his armor.

Neither of you moves for a long time. Just remaining in one anothers embrace, knowing that eventually you’ll have to part again, knowing that eventually you will both (even with your injuries) will have to return to the battlefield.

[thelittlehansy]

Hans : when the Empath turn Bad ?

A little recap of post i make on my blog : 😁

1-How i think Hans is not a narcissist

2-How the king of the southern isles is one after reading the tropes on tv tropes.

3-Hans family works like a real life Narcissist Family and the tool used.

4-The sign of narcisisct father / son relationship and how many sign the princes of the southern isles show ?

5-What is narcissist abuse generally

6-How many sign of narcisisct abuse can we catch on the " A Frozen heart"

So basically this is what we learn in "A Frozen Heart" if we study how Hans family works :

1- Hans has a Ndad

2-since he is kid he is submit to narcissist abuse with his brothers.

3- Hans at 20 years old is view as sensitive weak a little mice by his brothers he have a different reaction that his brothers to the abuse he got throught dont like to fight back.

4-he hates violence despise it , is someone diplomat and had always tried to find a peaceful solution to problem with his father and brothers.

5- for the sake of affection love and respect he buy into his father morality and abandon his own and began to act more like them. A decision he makes i think when lars propose him to go in Arendelle.

6- he is someone who is dealing with trauma and has life all his live in hyperviligence.

How empath are made 4 reasons :

Source : psychology today

10 traits of empath :

1. Empaths are highly sensitive

Empaths are naturally giving, spiritually open, and good listeners. If you want heart, empaths have got it. Through thick and thin, they’re there for you, world-class nurturers. But they can easily have their feelings hurt. Empaths are often told that they are “too sensitive” and need to toughen up.

Hans is a good listening the last two sentences is the reasons why Hans is bully in the book.

2. Empaths absorb other people’s emotions

Empaths are highly attuned to other people’s moods, good and bad. They feel everything, sometimes to an extreme. They take on negativity such as anger or anxiety which is exhausting. If they are around peace and love, their bodies take these on and flourish.

We dont know but yeah it is what i was talking when i said empath mirror too.

3. Many empaths are introverted

Empaths become overwhelmed in crowds, which can amplify their empathy. They tend to be introverted and prefer one to one contact or small groups. Even if an empath is more extroverted they prefer limiting how much time they can be in a crowd or at a party.

Hans is an extroverted Thats Hans at the start of the book After leaving the party of his mom he go at the Dock to have his time alone that he said he wants so much. But then who would not with his bully brothers 😂

Also i m sorry i know this was not mean to be something but Hans did leave the party full of people prefering getting to know Anna better in place with no people 😂 its so fun how you can look at stuff in some way that where never mean to be take in that way. On the book we discovered this is his initiative he propose Anna to go see the garden 😁

4. Empaths are highly intuitive

Empaths experience the world through their intuition. It is important for them to develop their intuition and listen to their gut feelings about people. This will help empaths find positive relationships and avoid energy vampires. Read Five Steps to Develop Your Intuition to learn more.

Hans is ENFJ he works with his intuition on the book he did say that he was going with intuition and i think how he suceeded keep his plan all along prove that he can be very intuitive

5. Empaths need alone time

As super-responders, being around people can drain an empath so they periodically need alone time to recharge their batteries. Even a brief escape prevents emotionally overload. Empaths like to take their own cars when they go places so they can leave when they please.

A frozen heart told hans like to go at the Dock he like having moment for himself and only thinking. Something that his brothers dont do busy to admired themselve in the mirror of the castle 😄

6. Empaths can become overwhelmed in intimate relationships

Too much togetherness can be difficult for an empath so they may avoid intimate relationships. Deep down they are afraid of being engulfed and losing their identity. For empaths to be at ease in a relationship, the traditional paradigm for being a couple must be re-defined.

Dont know but well intimidate relationship dont seems to be his stuff.

7. Empaths are targets for energy vampires

An empath’s sensitivity makes them particularly easy marks for energy vampires, whose fear or rage can sap their energy and peace of mind. Vampires do more than drain an empath’s physical energy. The especially dangerous ones such as narcissists (they lack empathy and are only concerned with themselves) can make them believe they’re unworthy and unlovable. Other vampires include The Victim, The Chronic Talker, The Drama Queen and more.

Yes ! Hans is the victim and target of his father and his brothers so i think we got that one too. Mention also that Hans dad has succeded into making him beleive he is worthless and a disappointment.

8. Empaths become replenished in nature

The busyness of ever day life can be too much for an empath. The natural world nourishes and restores them. It helps them to release their burdens and they take refuge in the presence of green wild things, the ocean or other bodies of water.

Hans love going at the Dock when he need time close from the sea (reveal on a frozen heart )

9. Empaths have highly tuned senses

An empath’s nerves can get frayed by noise, smells, or excessive talking.

Dont know !

10. Empaths have huge hearts but sometimes give too much

Empaths are big-hearted people and try to relieve the pain of others. A homeless person holding a cardboard sign, “I’m hungry” at a busy intersection; a hurt child; a distraught friend. It’s natural to want to reach out to them, ease their pain. But empaths don’t stop there. Instead, they take it on. Suddenly they’re the one feeling drained or upset when they felt fine before

Well thats dont seems like Hans 😄but let give him the credit to wanted to help people. Like being the 13 sons and not be able to help seems to be a big deal for him and he really didnt like doing this stuff for his father in the book.

Also :

- he is really good with emotions

- he is a good listener

- Dont be the monster they fear you are its like he knows how she feel inside same for Anna its like he feel her loneliness that could explain how easy it was for him to seduce Anna.

- he know very well how to read people we saw that on the movie confirm on the book. Hans know if he cant trust poeple ( duke men) and when poeple are lying ( dungeon scene with elsa on the book)

He does have traits empath have and that could even explain some of his actions.

Here is also an another post i made in my obsession of Hans analysis 😁

How many of this more than 30 traits Hans shares with empath.

[the-wlw-cafe]

Craving Comfort   (A supercorp fic)

This is my secret santa gift for @super66legends87​! Now I do realize that I might have messed up a bit here, when I went through your blog and found that you like supercorp, i decided to turn this into a supercorp Story, but now that the Holidays are rolling around every secret santa fic i see is a Reader insert, so that ´s a whoopsie. If you’d rather have a Reader insert Story, I totally understand and I’ll write another one for you ^^

anyway, thanks to @oneofakindimagines​ for letting me participate!

Some days were harder than others. Some days Lena just wanted to down decanter after decanter of scotch until the world around her started to fade into a dull haze. Were it not for Kara, she would absolutely already have drunken herself into a stupor.

Before, Lena would always ask herself how Kara always seemed to know when she needed her best friend, which sixth sense told her that Lena was about to do something stupid, about to indulge in her coping mechanisms she damn well knew were unhealthy, but didn’t have the strength to leave behind. But that was before. Before Lex revealed Kara’s secret with his dying breath, before the all the anger, the hurt, the resentment, and the months and months of bitter loneliness whose memory alone made Lena want to curl in on herself and cry. They were fine now, different, but fine, and yet a sore scar remained, a deep cut only recently healed. The months of radio silence had almost been too much to bear for Lena. She didn’t know how she would survive another rift like this.

But know she knew. She knew how Kara responded to every minute change of her heartbeat, because she had told her time and time again that it was her favourite sound in the world, because she used it to ground herself when everything would become too overwhelming. She knew how Kara could hear every half-choked sob she couldn’t contain after she would lock her office doors and tell Jess to send everyone away, because after so many assassination attempts Kara couldn’t fight the habit to check in on Lena every so often. She knew that Kara would be there in literal seconds, and all she had to say was...

“Kara.”

It still came difficult for her, openly asking for help like that, when every single one of her Luthor instincts was telling her to lick her wounds where nobody could see her, where nobody could ever bear witness to her shameful weakness. But some days were harder than others. Some days she just needed Kara.

She heard the quiet tap on her balcony door before she could start to second-guess herself. She opened it quickly and let Kara puller her into her arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. Kara had always been a very tactile person, but after their reconciliation the physical side of their friendship had intensified even more. It was as if they both needed physical confirmation that they were here, they were real, they were not going anywhere, a comfort that went beyond kind words and soft affirmations. A comfort that was a slippery slope to Lena, because the longer she allowed herself to be held by Kara, the more difficult it was to let her go again.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”, Kara murmured into her hair, squeezing Lena tightly. The honest answer was no. No, Lena didn’t want to talk about it, she just wanted to forget. But what she wanted and what she should do were, as was the case so often, two very different things.

“Remember the important board meeting I told you about?”

“Of course I do,” Kara replied without a modicum of hesitation, as if it went without saying. Lena could feel her throat get tighter with the effort not to cry. A deep crinkle born of worry began to form between her best friend’s brows.

“Did something happen? You know, my offer to dig up dirt on every single one of these old chauvinists still stands, I bet not even half of them do their taxes...”

Despite herself, Lena could feel a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

“It’s about Mr Whitman”, she says, and immediately Kara’s face lights up in recognition.

Mr Whitman was by far the oldest chairman of the board, he had watched the former Luthor Corp change hands from her father, to Lex, and finally to her, and through it all, he had never once doubted her. He was the good one, the one decent person among all these men still infatuated with Lex and his ideals, barely hiding their xenophobia and misogyny behind a facade of civility.

“What about him? Is he okay?”

Lena gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to recall their conversation, but she knows she’ll feel better afterwards. She always felt lighter after crying in Kara’s arms, which was a worrying development to say the least. Any kind of attachment this profound made her feel queasy, because she knew it was just going to spiral from there, like it had countless times before, in boarding school, in Metropolis...in the end, she always got too attached too quickly, and in the end it got her nothing but ridicule and isolation.

“After the meeting, he came to congratulate me. He told me that he envied my patience, that it was a skill Lex never possessed.” She can see Kara opening her mouth, doubtlessly to say something along the lines of he’s right and I’m so proud of you, so she quickly presses out the rest of the sentence from behind clenched teeth.

“He said he knew it can’t be easy to uphold that mask of a politically correct do-gooder until all the damage Lex did with his ill-advised actions has been undone.”

“Oh, Lena...” Kara sighed, and fuck, Lena could feel hot tears spilling onto her cheeks now.

“And I realized it would never be enough. No matter what I do, no matter how many lives I save, I’ll always be indistinguishable from them...”

Her voice tapered off into sobs, and the silence that ensued stretched long enough for Lena to worry if she’d done it now, if she’d been too clingy, too emotional.

But then, she felt it: The gentle press of Kara’s lips to her forehead so softly it was barely more than a whisper of a touch. It still made her gasp out loud, and even through her anguish she felt a warmth spread through her entire being that has nothing to do with Kara’s heightened body temperature. It had been so long since she’d felt a tender gesture like that, the last time being a hazy memory of her mother, her real mother, trading spoonfuls of peas for kisses when she was barely more than three years old and a very fussy eater.

It was beautiful, it was peaceful, and it was over far too soon. Lena could just so keep from stopping Kara when she pulled back, holding Lena at an arm’s length so she could look her in the eyes.

“Lena, you are nothing like them”, she states firmly. “You are nothing like them, and nothing like the person they want you to be. You are infinitely better, infinitely stronger than they could ever imagine.”

Lena sniffed, and nodded.

“You’re good, Lena. Can you repeat that for me?”

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“I’m good”, Lena said, with barely any tremble in her voice, her fingers absently touching the spot where she still felt the echo of Kara’s lips.

  In the days following, Lena could barely think of anything but the kiss. It was almost a welcome respite, because in the moments her brain was not occupied it seemed hell bent on reminding her of every conversation she’d ever shared with Mr Whitman, fond memories with somebody she’d almost considered a friend that had become poisoned now that he had shown his true colours. She trudged through the days, fuelled only by Kara’s frequent texts of either gentle encouragements or pictures of whatever animals she’d met on the streets that day. And the texts did make her forget about her miserable situation for a second or two, but in the end, they just reminded Lena of what she needed most: She needed Kara, she needed her to be there for her, to hold her, to tell her she wasn’t inherently wicked, to...to kiss her forehead again.

But she couldn’t ask that of her. She wouldn’t even know how. For a woman who prided herself in her ability to outsmart and outtalk any adversary in the boardroom, she didn’t have the words. It was probably for the best anyway. Asking for a forehead kiss from her best friend would definitely be weird. Crossing boundaries. Being clingy. Dependant. Overly physical. Manipulative. Predatory.

 So she didn’t bring it up, she just smiled, rested her head on Kara’s shoulders during movie night with her heart almost beating out of her chest and her palms damp from anxiety, and yearned in silence.

 She held out for two weeks. Now that she knew what Kara’s lips felt like when pressed to her forehead, she could not focus on anything else. It was a wonder, really, that it took so long for her to make a complete fool of herself in front of Kara. But here she was, completely enveloped in a shocked, painfully awkward silence, having just asked her best friend to kiss her.

She hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. She hadn’t meant to say it at all. The only excuse she could find was the fact that she’d been running on nothing but caffeine and spite for days now, she was frustrated with her company and most of all herself, and really, could she really be counted as fully accountable of her actions in her addled state of mind? But the why wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered now was how on earth Lena could salvage their friendship now. Because she’d been stressed, she’d been moments away from crying again, and Kara had been so kind to her, hugged her like she always did when she thought Lena needed a “serotonin boost”, and Lena had just craved the comfort so much she hadn’t been able to stop herself from blurting out the words “Kiss me?”.

And of course, shocked silence had been the answer. And Lena contemplated throwing herself out of the nearest window.

“Kara, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thi-”

She didn’t get any further than that, because the feeling of Kara’s lips pressed gently against hers effectively shut her up. There was maybe half a second of uncertainty, half a second of questioning if she was really exhausted and crushing hard enough to hallucinate Kara kissing her, but then she could feel Kara’s hand tangling with her hair, playing with the strands, and Lena felt herself lean into the kiss, reciprocating with the same dreamy reverence Kara showed through her touch.

When they finally broke apart, it was with a soft sigh, and for the life of her Lena couldn’t figure out from whom it had come. She felt airy, light-hearted and most decidedly light-brained. Which might explain why the next words exiting her mouth were:

“I was asking for a forehead kiss.”

She could see the dreamy smile immediately fading from Kara’s expression, and Lena instantly felt heartbroken for being the cause of it.

“Oh Rao, Lena, I’m sorry...” Kara scrambled to explain, but Lena was quick to interrupt her by placing a single finger on her best friend’s lips. Kara fell silent immediately, as if Lena had stolen the words right off of her tongue.

“I’m not complaining,” she whispered, slowly moving closer to Kara as if approaching a frightened animal. “In fact, when taking into account that it took me two weeks and a worrying amount of sleep deprivation to work up the courage to ask for a forehead kiss, I don’t think I’d ever be brave enough to ask for this.”

She watched with undisguised affection as Kara’s lips opened in a surprised oh and her eyes went wide.

“Kara?” she said, chuckling softly as her best friend nodded slowly, as if caught in a trance.

“Kiss me again.”

[internettaxi]

Taxi Driver (1976) - Movie Review

Excuse my English as its not my first language and i know a movie like this has been covered a million times probably but this specific classic has always stuck out to me unlike any other film

-

Taxi Driver (1976) A Martin Scorsese Film One of Robert De Niro’s finest works A Ride Off The Fare

As with typical Scorsese fashion, Taxi Driver is a movie that explores the human condition in depth and the problems surrounding it at times, the movie employs the character ‘“Travis Bickle” who is a mentally unstable former Vietnam war veteran and now works as a New York City taxi driver, Scorsese uses him to show the extreme lengths of depravity that even a sane person could plunge into if they suffered from extreme social and physical isolation, self hatred, anxiety, paranoia, toxic masculinity and even depression. The movie showcases how these afflictions cause the downward spiral on the mind of Travis and shatter the perspective of what is normal and what isn't and how the anger and frustration of inaction can cause a disastrous form of action no matter whether it may be rational or not

The Soundtrack The soundtrack in taxi driver is composed in such a fashion that it successfully delivers the key elements within the film to the audience. Bernard Herrmann, the composer for the movie’s soundtrack uses a range of instruments to create a beautifully entrancing and dream like atmosphere; from the brash jazz of overwhelming and menacing horns and screeching bass clarinets which give off tensing and unnerving feelings of dread, suspense and horror to the intoxicating and trance-fully soft and romantic yet tragic melodies of smooth jazz which consists of beautiful instruments such as the elegant and classy sounds of trombones and the angelic voices of harps. These plethora of tools at the disposal of Bernard Herrmann are efficiently utilized to create fantastical symphonies of loneliness, anger and paranoia are ingeniously spread out through the run time of taxi driver thus granting us to see and delve deeper into the inner linings of Travis’ mind as the movie progresses

The Direction Taxi driver was one of the films that launched Martin Scorsese's career and established him as a highly talented director in the film industry and the proof for it can be seen in this very movie. Scorsese utilizes many innovative and groundbreaking camera and composition techniques of the era to create a masterpiece. The cameras are always either too zoomed in on Travis or too zoomed out to show and induce within the audience the sense of Travis’ isolation, barely any other character ever is shown next to Travis and even if they are it's mostly a minimum amount and when the camera is pointed at another character, Travis is shown to be blurred and out of focus which further showcases the lack of self importance Travis feels. Shaky and claustrophobic camera angles and handling along with a sudden dramatic increase in volume is present when Travis experiences anger, hatred, frustration and anxiety. A bright and blurred blue and red color palette is utilized when showcasing nighttime New York through Travis’ rain soaked taxi windscreen and how these blurry red and blue hues are a direct representation of Travis’ own warped and blurred perspective since he can't distinguish right (blue) from wrong (red) and to him they all seem to mix together; these colors are directly opposed to the monotone grey and maroons of the morning scenes which show how mundane and monotone Travis’ mornings and leisure time is since his depression and anxiety have drained all the bright colors out of it so the only time he feels ‘vibrant’ or ‘alive’ is when hes driving at night

The verdict So despite being released 44 years ago, Taxi driver is a phenomenal and philosophical thought provoking classic narrative that explores hard hitting non-fiction themes of vigilantism, depression, anxiety, toxic masculinity, exploitation, loneliness, morality, twisted justice and many others that would take too long to list; alongside this Travis is a unique and well made character on who seems to be riding his own cab into a self destructive downward spiral, and seemingly by the end of the film is impossible to distinguish whether he was a protagonist or antagonist within the narrative. His mindset and actions are vile and disturbing and condemn-able but despite all that the beauty of his character remains in the audience still being able to sympathize and even relate to Travis as his feelings of isolation, anxiety, trauma and frustration albeit it may not be on the same degree and as Travis; it is still quite are common place in society. All these explored ideas and intense form of storytelling coupled with a masterfully haunting and somber soundtrack, rich characters with tons of emotional depth, the dreamy hypnotic visuals and brilliantly unnerving camera work make Taxi Driver a film that has stood the test of time and has made its outstanding mark on the film industry and no matter how many years pass by, this movie will remain a timeless classic that will forever age as a fine wine due to the brilliance of Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro

[morningfears]

Morning Light

PART TWO OF MORNING FEARS | PART THREE

UPDATED SERIES MASTERLIST

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: Best friend’s dad!Luke | Following graduation night, you haven't seen Luke. You’ve barely spoken to Dylan. You feel overwhelmed and anxious but you can’t miss Dylan’s engagement party. So, you put on your best dress and decide that Luke can wait until after the party is over. (Luke is about 43 in this, reader is 22.)

Word Count: 10.1k (Grab a snack, get some water. It’s a long one, kids.)

The eerie green glow emanating from your alarm clock mixes with the dusty orange of the street light just outside your window and illuminates your bedroom ceiling as you find yourself unable to sleep yet again. Nights spent tossing and turning, battling the cacophony of thoughts rampantly running through your mind, are more frequent than they’ve ever been. You know exactly why you can’t sleep, why you can’t seem to quiet your brain long enough to truly rest, but that doesn’t stop you from hoping that the string of sleepless nights will end.

Two weeks have passed since graduation; two weeks since the night you shared with Luke; two weeks since you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.

You’ve managed to isolate yourself from nearly everyone in an effort to quiet your deafening thoughts. You’ve managed to bury yourself in a new project at work and adequately excuse yourself from social obligations but the loneliness has only worsened your spiraling emotions. You can’t keep the anxiety bubbling in your chest, eating at your nerves and setting you on edge, at bay. And not having your confidant, your rock, your person, to lean on is enough to make you feel like you’re going to drown beneath the waves of overwhelming emotion surging in the pit of your stomach.

You’ve spoken to Dylan a handful of times, each only to assure her that you're alright and just incredibly busy with work now that you have ample time to focus on more than one assignment. Your calls never last long as the sound of her voice fills your stomach with fresh waves of guilt and the sight of her blond curls and adorable nose reminds you of Luke. You can’t think about her without feeling the sting of fresh tears and something akin to an injection of icy water in the form of terror running through your veins. 

You’d thought about her before you actually knew you stood a chance with Luke, thought about her reaction, but actually sleeping with him, having him in your bed and caressing your skin, made it real. It made the disgust you pictured on her face real. It made the anger you imagined she’d feel real. It made the thought that you would end up having to continue living your life without your best friend by your side real. It made the thought that you’d just ruined one of the healthiest father-daughter relationships you’d ever seen real.

It made all of the negatives that had previously stopped you from giving Luke anymore attention than was necessary real and you feel like kicking yourself for giving in to your base desires.

But the worst part of it all is that despite the overwhelming amount of emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach, you’re not sure you’d change anything if you were to be given the chance to do so. 

You don’t regret sleeping with Luke. You feel guilty, yes, and you’re terrified to know what will happen when Dylan finds out (because you’re certain that the guilt will eat you alive if you don’t tell her) but you can’t bring yourself to regret being with him. To you, it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t a mindless hookup begging to be forgotten. You want it to be the beginning of something bigger, of something real. You want it to be the start of a new chapter in your life. And a part of you, an unreasonable part that you rarely listen to, tells you that Luke wants it, too.

The way that he made you feel, the care and affection that he showed you, lets that part of you know that it wasn’t just sex to him either. The fact that you woke up to him still beside you, fingers tracing patterns against your skin and eyes shining warmly as he studied your face, tells you that he feels something. And while you’re terrified that he’ll lose interest in you quickly, realize that he can do better than an insecure twenty-something still finding her way through life, you find yourself desperate for the chance to be with him again.

However, coupled with the guilt that you feel when you think about Dylan, the desire you feel for Luke, and the confusion you feel when you attempt to plot your course of action, there’s also a sense of uncertainty that lingers like a dark cloud over your head. While the morning after with Luke had been pleasant, it had left you confused and unsure. And as memories of that morning begin to flood your mind once more, you roll over and bury your face in the pillow to release a whimper of exhaustion.

Luke’s fingers are gentle as they brush errant strands of hair from your eyes. He has a soft smile on his lips, a warmth to his eyes, and it makes your breath catch in your throat as you stare at him in the golden morning light. He looks so beautiful, so soft and warm like this light was made with him in mind, and it forces a shaky breath from your lungs.

“Good morning,” he whispers as his hand gently cups your cheek and his thumb begins brushing your cheekbone, “how’d you sleep?”

You want to be honest with him, want to tell him that your thoughts had run away with you and that you hadn’t slept at all, but you don’t. Instead, you tell him how you wish you’d slept. You tell him, “I’ve never been able to share a bed. It’s always put me on edge to have someone next to me. But it felt different with you. I wasn’t anxious to get you out of my bed.” And that part is true. Luke’s presence in your bed was comfortable, like he belonged beside you. The soft snores that left his lips were reassuring rather than annoying. The weight of his arm draped over your side was grounding rather than stifling.

You hadn’t remained rigid throughout the night, afraid of waking him. You had remained acutely aware of his presence but you hadn’t minded it at all. Having him sleep beside you felt natural and the thought scares the hell out of you because it floods your mind with images of waking up next to Luke morning after morning, of your bed becoming his, too. It makes you want this to be real, to mean more, and you’re not sure if it can.

Luke smiles at you, the same smile he’d given you the first time you’d laughed at one of his jokes, and you want to melt into him as he beams at you. “I’m honored that you don’t want to kick me out of your bed,” he teases, his tone light although you can see the genuine happiness in his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, a look of uncertainty flashes in his eyes, before he adds, “I haven’t spent the night with anyone in a long time. I wasn’t sure how it would feel but it felt comfortable with you.”

You want to tell him that you’d gladly let him spend every night with you, that the left side of your bed is his as long as he wants it, but you can’t. You can’t tell him that because you’re terrified. You’re terrified that this doesn’t mean anything. You’re terrified that he’s playing into your fantasy, giving you what you want so that you’ll move on. You’re terrified that he’s playing with you, using you to ease his boredom or solve some midlife crisis. You’re terrified that he’ll wake up and realize that you’re only twenty-two, that he can do better than someone who has no life experience and still has to occasionally call her mother for help. You’re terrified that Dylan will find out and end your friendship or, worse, her relationship with Luke.

You’re so overwhelmed but you don’t want him to second guess himself. You don’t want him to see you as a child who can’t handle her own. So, you keep your emotions to yourself and hope that he can’t read them on your face as you smile.

But he can. Luke can read you like a book. He can pinpoint the moment your real smile melts into a fake one and he wants to tug you closer, brush his fingers over your back in a way that he hopes would be soothing, and beg you to tell him what you’re thinking. But you’ve both shared too much.

You’re both in too deep already and spilling more emotions will make this real. You both know that. So Luke lets you think that you’ve tricked him, lets you think that your smile looks real and that he can’t see the multitude of emotions flickering in your eyes. He decides that it’s easier this way, letting you hide behind a false pillar of strength. And he’s not sure if it’s easier for you or for him.

Either way, he reluctantly glances away from your face and over at the alarm clock on your nightstand. When he sees that it’s nearing nine, he frowns and returns his gaze to your face. “As comfortable as your bed is and as much as I would love to lie here with you all day,” he begins quietly, his heart sinking as he realizes this is most likely going to be over before it even began the moment he gives you an out, “you should get on the road before your parents start to worry. I know your mom likes for you to leave as early as you can. And I need to make a dent in that mountain of paperwork covering my desk that you so tactfully reminded me of last night.”

The small part of you that wanted Luke to tell you that everything would be alright, to comfort you and guide you through the emotions you’re feeling, is disappointed as it feels like Luke is brushing you off. The rational portion of your brain, however, is telling you that he’s right. You do need to get on the road sooner rather than later and he should clear off his desk, even if it’s just a few sheets of paper. So, you swallow the lump in your throat that feels strangely like rejection and nod. “You should get started on that before it takes over your office,” you agree half-heartedly as you gently untangle yourself from Luke’s grip and sit up, gathering the sheet and covering your bare chest as you do so. “I’m sure my mom’s already called a few times to ask me where I am, anyway.”

Luke nods in understanding as he slips out of your bed. You try not to look as he searches for his briefs, try not to sigh at the sight of his thighs, but you find yourself sneaking glances as you sit in the middle of your bed. You remain covered only by the sheet as Luke tugs his clothes from the night before back on and when he turns to face you, you’re reminded of exactly why you’d wanted to bring him home.

And when Luke catches sight of you, effortlessly beautiful with messy hair and sleepy eyes, he wants nothing more than to strip back down and climb back into bed with you to waste the day. But he knows that he can’t. Knows that if he stays, it’s over. He’ll be more fucked for you than he already is and he feels guilty enough knowing that he just slept with his daughter’s best friend.

So, he presses a kiss to your forehead, tells you to drive safe, and is out the door before either of you can change your mind. And the lump in your throat that felt like rejection before is now joined by the burn of humiliation as you chastise yourself for thinking that he could’ve ever wanted more.

You’re startled awake by the ringing of your cellphone, the emotions still fresh in your mind as you groan at being torn from the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks. Without glancing at the screen, you swipe the answer button and grumble a barely comprehensible, “Hello?”

“She’s alive,” a voice you haven’t heard in days cheers, tone light and very awake, and you internally curse yourself for not checking the caller ID as you roll over onto your back and toss your arm over your eyes.

“Mm,” you hum before you swallow the lump in your throat and will the thoughts of Luke to leave you. You take a moment to blink back the tears that threatened to spill only moments ago before you sigh, “Very much so. Doesn’t really feel like it, though.”

“I can imagine,” Dylan laughs and you can hear her bustling about. You imagine her darting around her apartment, searching for something she’s misplaced, and the guilt is momentarily replaced by fondness before she huffs, “You’ve been killing yourself at work. Anna called me, told me to make you take a few days off. And I will be sure to berate you until you do.” You breathe a genuine laugh at this because you know that Dylan is being incredibly serious. At the sound of your laugh, Dylan hums happily before she continues, “But that can wait a little bit because I was calling to make sure you haven’t forgotten about tonight. I know you’ve been swamped lately so if you have, it’s not a big deal. Take this as your reminder.”

You’re silent for a moment, wracking your brain in a desperate bid to remember what could be so special that she needed to call and remind you, before you gasp, “Engagement party! Fuck, D, I’m so sorry. Fucking fuck, I forgot all about it. I’m officially the worst best friend on this planet. Shit.” 

The guilt that you’d been feeling for weeks now returns full-force, only this time, it’s coupled with the reminder that not only did you betray your best friend by sleeping with her father, you’ve neglected her. You’ve pushed her away when all she wants is to be a part of your life and you feel so incredibly low as you realize you don’t deserve someone like her in your life. You want to kick yourself even harder now as you tug the duvet up and over your head.

Although you mean that you’re the worst best friend in more ways than one, Dylan takes it as you overreacting to forgetting the party. “Hey,” she sighs, “don’t. You’ve been busy, I get it. You’re working your ass off and I’m super proud of you for making opportunities for yourself. You basically took care of me for four years. I would’ve never survived college without you so you focusing on yourself is making me so happy. I would personally rather you stay home and sleep tonight but I know you’d never stop apologizing if I let you forget the party. So, this is your personal reminder that the engagement party is happening tonight at that hotel downtown. The one with the insane bar we snuck into freshman year? That one.”

You feel your stomach tighten even further into knots as she praises you for your dedication to work and you shake your head, even though she can’t see you. “I’ll be there,” you assure her, your voice strong as you continue, “I’m officially the worst friend on the planet, don’t let me be any worse by not coming to this party.” And even though you’re not sure how you’re going to face her, let alone Luke, you tell yourself that you’ll figure it out as you breathe another apology.

“Nope,” she laughs, “we’re not doing this. No more apologies! As long as you get there a little early so we can talk, all is forgiven.”

Your heart sinks as she asks to talk to you. Although you know, realistically, that she doesn’t know, it still sends a pang of panic shooting down your spine at the thought of her confronting you about Luke. However, you can’t refuse her. So you nod, although she can’t see you, and assure her, “Of course. I’ll be there.” You hesitate for a moment before you add, “I love you, D. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she hums, slightly surprised by the seemingly random declaration, one that she very rarely gets from you, “I love you, too. You’re my person, no matter what.”

As soon as those words leave her lips, you’re forced to choke back a sob. You cover it with a cough, repeat the words that ring so hollow in your own ears, and bid her goodbye as quickly as you can to avoid the guilt fueled breakdown that you know will come if you stay on the phone any longer. The moment that you hang up, you toss your phone to the side and clench your eyes shut beneath the duvet.

The idea of seeing Dylan now makes you feel sick to your stomach. She’s always been able to read you like a book, been able to tell exactly what you’re feeling and know exactly the words to say to make you feel better, but this time, you can’t run to her for comfort. You can’t let on that anything is wrong. You know that you have to put on your best face, that you have to pretend that all is well, and you’re not sure if you can hide this when it feels all consuming.

It’s funny, you think, that for a long while, you were perfectly capable of hiding your feelings for Luke. You managed to do it for nearly four years, after all. However, this time is different. This time, you’re unsure of whether or not you’ll be able to make it through the night.

You’re unsure of whether or not Luke knows how you feel about him because there weren’t many words shared between the two of you that night. You’re unsure of whether or not Luke wants to know how you feel about him because you’re twenty-something and he can do so much better. You’re unsure of whether or not Luke feels anything for you because maybe he just sees you as his daughter’s best friend. You’re unsure of whether or not Luke wants this to be more than a one night stand because maybe that was a pity fuck and you’re reading too much into it. 

You’re unsure of how to address this entire situation without wanting to break down in a puddle of overwhelmed tears.

But you are sure that you need to address this, mess of tears or not. You are sure that you need to talk to him because you know that you need to at least be able to be in the same room as him. You need to at least be able to look at him without feeling like you’re going to break down, so you resign yourself to further humiliation by resolving to ask him if he has a moment to talk to you. 

You know that you’ll have to find him alone, somewhere far from Dylan (especially tonight, a night that is supposed to be as light and happy as can be), but you can’t bring yourself to consider asking him to come over again. You’re doubting your ability to control yourself, half-certain that you’ll jump at the chance to have him in your bed again, and you know that inviting him over is a terrible idea. So you decide to avoid him until the last possible second, to keep your distance and stick to the edges of the party until you can get him alone. You resign yourself to confronting him tonight, somewhere far from the party goers and Dylan, and you think that you’ll need an entire bottle of wine just to gather the courage.

Dylan, on the other hand, you cannot avoid the entire night.

You’re supposed to be there for her, no matter what. Even if she won’t want you by her side once she finds out that you broke her trust, that you betrayed her and slept with Luke, you’re going to be there for her tonight like the best friend you should’ve been all along. You’re going to do your damndest to show her the love and support that she deserves, even if your nerves are shot to hell by the end of the night.

So you spend the day steeling your nerves. You convince yourself that everything is going to be alright, that Dylan won’t find out tonight and that you’ll get at least one last hurrah with her before she banishes you from her life. You convince yourself that Luke will be normal, that he won’t treat you any differently than he did the last time you saw him, and that Dylan won’t catch on that something happened. You convince yourself that the night is going to go well.

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from twisting your stomach into knots as you search for the dress you’d bought weeks ago with this occasion in mind.

It takes nearly twice as long for you to get ready for the party as it normally would. Your hands won’t stop shaking and your mind wanders a little too far when you’re meant to be focusing on choosing a suitable color palette for your makeup. You sip at a glass of wine to calm your nerves and by the time you’re dressed and ready to go, you’re half-certain that you’re going to be able to look Dylan in the eye and pretend that nothing is wrong. You’re even able to make casual conversation with your Uber driver (and stop the icy panic that fills your veins at the memories of the conversation that led to Luke even being in your apartment in the first place) on your way to the hotel so you feel good, better than you have in weeks. 

Until the moment you pull up to the hotel and you feel your resolve shatter around you.

Dylan is waiting for you out front, looking more beautiful than you’ve ever seen her, and you want to cry as you catch sight of the gorgeous white dress that you’d helped her pick out on your last shopping trip before graduation. Beside her stands her fiancé, Alex, and it warms your heart to see the look of pure adoration on his face as he glances down at her. But behind the pair of them stands Luke, hands shoved into his pockets and an unreadable expression on his face, and that’s what does you in. 

At the sight of him you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize that you’re woefully unprepared to see him so soon, but you mournfully realize that there’s nothing you can do now. So, reluctantly, you pay for your ride and smooth your dress as you step out of the car, thankful that Alex offers you his hand to help before Luke can.

“Look at you,” Dylan cheers the moment your feet are planted firmly on the ground. She breathes a happy sigh as she wraps her arms around you and squeezes so tight that you’re afraid she’s going to cause internal damage. “I don’t see you for two weeks and you get so much more gorgeous. Look at that dress! I love it more now than I did when you bought it,” she gushes, her stormy blue eyes shining with happiness as she takes in your appearance, “Ugh, I missed you so much!” She squeezes you once more before she releases your body and grips your hands. “Please take a few days off so we can go shopping or just stay home and binge Parks and Rec,” she begs, her lips forming a pout as she meets your eyes, “I’ve been driving Alex crazy, I’m sure.”

“You know I love spending time with you,” he assures her happily, his words genuine, before he turns to you with a sincere smile. “But I do second her request for you to take a break. I stopped by to see Anna a few days ago and saw your office. It looks like you’ve been living there.”

When you wave them both off, muttering that you’ve just been busy, Dylan huffs and returns her arms to your waist. “Dad,” Dylan hums as she glances at Luke, her arms still wrapped tight around you, “tell her that she needs to take a break. Tell her that it’s not healthy to overwork yourself.”

“I don’t think I have much to lecture anyone,” Luke smiles easily, looking you straight in the eye and making you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, “but Dylan’s right, honey. You’re young. You have all the time in the world to further your career. Don’t overwork yourself. Taking a few days off might be good for you.”

Your knees feel weak as you lose yourself in Luke’s gaze. You find yourself unable to respond verbally, certain that your voice will betray every emotion that is coursing through your veins, so you settle for a nod and allow Dylan to take the gesture to mean whatever she wishes. And she wishes it to mean that you’ll take a break.

“It’s settled then,” she hums happily as she loops her arm through yours and effectively breaks you free from Luke’s gaze. She squeezes your hand before she grabs Alex’s hand and states, “You’re taking a few days off and I’ll take a few days off and we can just spend some time together to catch up.” She looks positively pleased with herself, ready for the girl’s day that you both know is long overdue, but before she can elaborate further, she stops in her tracks. “Oh, before we go in I have something to ask you!”

Dylan instantly drops your arm and Alex’s hand before she reaches to grab both of your hands in hers. “I was going to make this really cheesy and cute,” she grins, teeth on full display and you can feel a real smile of your own tugging at your lips, “but I know you’re a straightforward kind of person. So, I’ll just ask.” She takes a deep breath before she smiles at you and, in the most sincere tone you’ve ever heard her use, says, “You’re my person, my best friend, my rock, my confidant; I love you more than you know. You’ve been there for me every step of the way. You made college the best four years of my life and I’m so thankful that that shitty roommate matching system worked for us. It might’ve given us four terrible suite mates but it gave me you and I can’t imagine the last four years of my life, or the rest of my life, honestly, without you in it.” 

You feel a lump of emotion forming in your throat and the stinging of tears pricking at your eyes as she squeezes your hands gently. This should be the happiest, purest moment of your friendship, but you feel lower than low as she sings your praises and gushes about your years of friendship. And when she asks, “So, will you be my maid of honor?” you want to break down and tell her everything right then and there but you can’t do it.

You can’t ruin her happiness with a single sentence. So you nod. You nod because you’re afraid that sobs will pour from your lips instead of a ‘yes’ but she takes your silence as speechlessness and launches herself forward to pull you into another hug. “I’ve never seen you speechless,” she laughs, tears of her own gathering on her lower lashes, “I’m so proud of myself. I even made you tear up a little!” And you laugh at that because she looks so incredibly proud of herself. When you nod, she squeezes you once more before she pulls away and breathes, “Okay, well. I think this calls for a celebratory drink.”

Dylan releases you to grab Alex’s hand, leaving you to trail behind them with Luke at your side. As Dylan chats animatedly to Alex, her tone happy and carefree, Luke reaches over to squeeze your hand gently but releases it quickly and otherwise ignores your presence as you step into the closest ballroom to the entrance.

You glance around the room in awe, taking in the white, gold, and royal blue decorations that adorn the space as Dylan watches happily. You allow yourself to get lost in the decor and as you wander the room, you vaguely register Alex speaking to Luke. “Dylan and I are going to get the drinks. We’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” he assures him, his tone light, “we’ll be here.”

You expect Luke to say something as you hear Dylan’s heels clicking out of the ballroom and into the small kitchen but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat at one of the round tables and watches as you trail your fingers along the wall beneath the row of gilded picture frames. A small smile quirks your lips as you admire the selection of photos that they’ve chosen.

You spot photos from the first time that Dylan and Alex met, with you in the background looking less than pleased as you wiped spilled beer from your jeans. You spot the picture that you snuck of them leaving for their first date, both blushing and giggling nervously. You spot a picture from the first Christmas that they spent together, and you remember that you were just out of frame, crunching a candy cane and watching Luke snap picture after picture of his “little girl, growing up too fast.” You spot a picture of the night that Alex asked Dylan to marry him. And, although you feel yourself falling into the memories, none of them can help you shake the feeling of Luke’s eyes burning into your skin.

“I never really believed in this,” you whisper, your voice still carrying in the grand room, “in love, I guess. My mom’s been married a million times, my real dad’s miserable and hasn’t found anyone else. I thought no one got a happy ending, you know?” You pause for a moment as you stop in front of a picture of Dylan and Alex from the graduation party and sigh at the look of pure love emanating from his eyes as he stares down at her. You release a shaky breath before you continue, “And then I saw Dylan and Alex together. The way that he looks at her… I can only hope I’m lucky enough to find someone to look at me that way someday.”

“I want someone to look at me like I hung the moon and the stars just for them. I want someone to love me, even when I’m being difficult and overthinking for no reason other than that’s just how my brain works. I want someone to love me, all of me, and all of the things that come with that. And some days, I think I’ll find them. I think that they’re right there, that the timing just isn’t right. But most days, most days I’m sure that they don’t exist. That there isn’t a person like that out there for me.”

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear Luke stand from his chair. You don’t hear the click of his boots against the floor as he moves to stand beside you, and you don’t notice his presence until you feel his fingers gently nudge your chin up to face him. “You’re too young to be this jaded,” he whispers, a sad smile on his lips. “You have all the time in the world to fall in love. Don’t rush it.”

You nod but say nothing. You don’t want to tell Luke that you can imagine yourself falling in love with him. You don’t want to tell him that you’re not rushing anything, that you’ve waited four years for this. You don’t want to jump only for him to let you fall.

So you don’t. Instead, you cast your gaze to the floor and hope that he’ll take pity on you and let you go. But he doesn’t. He nudges your chin once again, makes you look him the eye, and sighs, “I think we should talk.”

You nod as best as you can as his hand moves to cup your cheek. “We really should,” you agree quietly, although you want to tell him that maybe it’s for the best that you don’t.

Luke is silent as he takes a moment to search your face. For what you’re not certain, but he must find whatever he’s looking for as he reaches into his pocket and removes a key card. He pulls his hand from your cheek and gently grabs your wrist, never looking away from your face. “I’ll be in room fourteen-eleven at ten,” he informs you quietly, his eyes searching yours as he presses the key card into your palm and curls your fingers around it. “If you’re not there by ten-thirty, I’ll understand completely. We can pretend that nothing ever happened and only interact for Dylan, if that’s what you want.”

Before you can respond, tell him that that’s the last thing you want, you hear the telltale click of Dylan’s heels returning to the ballroom and Luke removes his hands from your wrist to step back into place beside you. He makes a comment about one of the pictures, mutters something about it being cute, and you find yourself nodding along as Dylan hands you a flute of champagne.

She glances at you and Luke for a moment, her smile one of content, before she sighs happily. “My best friend,” she breathes, “my best guy.” She pauses for a moment before she grins at Luke and hums, “My best dad,” and beams at the laugh that vibrates in his chest. “I love all of you,” she informs you happily as she raises her glass in a toast. “I’m so thankful that all of you are in my life. I can’t imagine it any other way.”

The moment that you take a sip of champagne, the first rush of guests takes the ballroom by storm and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you take your seat at your designated table. You mingle with the friends that have ended up at the same table and try not to allow Luke’s request to consume your thoughts as the champagne flows and the night drags on. However, as the minutes turn into hours and the party rages around you, the key to his hotel room weighs heavily in your pocket and you feel as if it’s going to burn a hole in your dress before you have a chance to use it.

Fortunately, though, your attempts at normalcy are aided by the lack of Luke’s presence. He appears sporadically, long enough to greet guests or give a speech in honor of Dylan, but he seems to disappear just as quickly as he appears. And the closer the clock ticks to ten, the less you see of him. You hear someone mention that they’d heard him tell Dylan that he was leaving, that he had something that needed to be taken care of, and your heart races just a little faster in your chest as you wrack your brain for your own excuse.

You hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t planned on slipping away to be with Luke, but you use Dylan’s words from your morning phone call against her. You tell her that you love her, tell her that you’re dead on your feet and in desperate need of sleep, before you bid her goodnight and nearly sprint to the elevator. You check the time on your phone as you anxiously await its arrival and your heart pounds in your chest as you realize you should’ve been upstairs five minutes ago. You feel anxious, nervous that Luke thinks you’ve given up on him and that you’ve lost your chance to, at the very least, get a sense of closure as the elevator carries you to the fourteenth floor.

By the time you’re standing in front of his room, you’re ten minutes late and you’re certain that Luke has given up on you. You’re certain that you’re going to find the room empty, Luke nowhere to be found, but you have to know for sure. So, you bite back the returning storm of emotions pooling in the pit of your stomach and pull the key from your pocket. You take a deep breath as you slip the card into the reader and step into the room.

To your surprise, the room is bathed in the warm glow of lamplight and Luke is standing by the window, his hands in his pockets and his heart on his sleeve. Luke has had ample time to think this through, has agonized over it for weeks and analyzed every possible scenario. Each is worse than the last, he knows this, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you. He knows that he shouldn’t want you. He knows that he should take this moment to let you down gently, but he can’t. He sees a future in you, with you, and though the road is paved with hardship, he doesn’t want to run from you. 

And he’s hoping beyond hope that you feel the same.

But as he glances at your reflection in the plate glass window, Luke isn’t so sure. 

He had seen through your smile the moment that you stepped out of the car. The moment his eyes met yours, he had seen the terror in them. He had seen the guilt, the nerves, the anxiety; and it sent a sharp pang of hurt shooting down his spine. He saw through the speechlessness and teary eyes when Dylan asked you to be her maid of honor. He knew that while you were thrilled beyond measure, you were also drowning in a sea of guilt and it was all his fault.

He knows that he shouldn’t have slept with you but when he looks at you, truly looks, he can’t bring himself to regret it.

Your timid voice breaks him from his thoughts as you whisper, “I’m sorry I’m so late.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to whisper but you’re afraid to burst the bubble that exists inside this room and Luke understands. He’s just as afraid of what this conversation will bring so he allows your soft voice to wash over him and doesn’t question the tone that you’ve chosen. “I couldn’t get away,” you inform him, desperate to explain yourself, “Who knew I was friends with so many chatterboxes?”

Luke turns to face you and you’re relieved to find him smiling softly at you. He can’t help himself. That lovesick smile seems to quirk his lips automatically anytime you’re near and it’s something that he’s never felt before. But before either of you can dwell, he shakes his head. In a tone just as quiet as yours, he returns, “It’s alright, pretty girl. I’m not upset.” 

The room is quiet for a moment, the two of you studying one another, and Luke can see the rigidity in your shoulders as you play with the bracelet adorning your wrist. He breathes a quiet sigh before he holds his hand out to you. “Come here,” he whispers, his tone gentle to convey that this is a request, not a demand. He can feel his heart lift with happiness as you cross the room without hesitation and take his hand in yours. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, his fingers warm while yours are ice cold, before he drops your hand and wraps his arms around your shoulders to pull you into an embrace that he hopes is comforting.

When you relax against his chest and wrap your arms tightly around his waist, Luke releases a shaky breath and whispers, “You look so beautiful tonight, pretty girl.” He can hear feel your cheeks heating against the exposed sliver of chest and he smiles before he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “This is a beautiful color on you,” he compliments as his fingers move gently over the soft fabric.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice muffled slightly by his chest, “you look beautiful, too.” And Luke smiles at that because he knows that you’re being sincere. It still boggles his mind as to how you can find him so attractive when he looks in the mirror and sees such an old man but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he squeezes your shoulder in thanks and allows you to continue, “I love seeing you in these types of shirts.”

“I’ll wear one for you whenever you want, pretty girl,” he promises as he moves his hands to cup your cheeks and turns your head to face him, “but right now, we need to talk.”

“I want to,” you nod, your voice shaking with emotion, “we need to. But I’ve been so anxious for weeks and now that you’re touching me, it feels like nothing else matters. Now that you’re touching me, I feel like I can breathe again and I just need a minute to breathe.”

Luke’s heart breaks at your words. He knew that this would be overwhelming for you, knew that you would overthink and upset yourself, but he hadn’t realized just how hard you would take it all. He knows that you should talk first, knows that you should clear the air and that he should reassure you, but he quickly finds that he’ll give you anything so long as it makes you happy.

So he nods, his eyes locked on yours and his heart breaking at the tears lining your lashes. “We need to talk,” he stresses, his tone gentle, “but it can wait a little bit.”

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you again?” you whisper, your voice hesitant as you search his eyes for any hint as to what he’s feeling.

Luke feels as if he’s flinging himself off a cliff, falling into the unknown, and it feels so strange to put his heart in the hands of a twenty-something whose parents he’s had to ask for permission to take her out of state, but he can’t help himself. He wants this, wants you, so he breathes, “Only if it’s bad that I want to kiss you again.”

You feel as if your heart is going to beat out of your chest in anticipation as Luke brushes his thumbs across your cheekbones. He leaves you in suspense for a moment before he dips his head and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is different than the ones you shared weeks ago. This kiss is reassuring, it’s comforting. And you feel the emotions that both of you have felt over the past two weeks pouring out of you as you feel his lips on yours once more.

“As amazing as last time was,” you breathe against his lips the moment he pulls away to let you breathe, “I don’t think I can handle slow tonight. I need you, all of you, please.”

Luke breathes an agreement against your lips, his words muffled by your mouth, before he resumes the kiss and moves his hands from your cheeks to grasp the zipper of your dress. As Luke drags the zipper down, you reach for the buttons of his shirt and make quick work of them.

This feels more like a hookup, you think, as you nudge the material from his shoulders and step out of your dress. But you know that this means more than the first time that you slept together. You’ve both dropped walls, both spent weeks agonizing over what you’re going to do, and you want to remember this. You’re not sure if this will happen again so you want to feel Luke in the way that you’ve always imagined.

As you pull away from his kiss, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, Luke’s lips find your neck and his hands find your lace covered breasts. His touch is rougher this time, stronger, and you moan as he kneads your flesh. He tries his hardest not to leave marks as his lips brush your skin but when your hands unbuckle his belt and dip beneath the waistband of his jeans to grip his cock through his briefs, Luke nips your skin and knows that you’ll be left with a reminder in the morning.

The moment that you remove your hands from his jeans, Luke removes his hands from your breasts and nudges the denim down his legs. You follow suit, unclasping your bra and stepping out of your panties, before you return your hand to Luke’s cock and glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “Can I try something?” you ask, your voice breathless and your heart pounding in your chest.

“Whatever you want,” Luke nods, “I’m yours, pretty girl.”

Your heart melts at the thought of being his but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on his words as you begin pressing kisses to the column of his throat. Luke watches, his hands in your hair, as your lips move down his chest, over his stomach, and come to a stop at his hipbones. You nip at the skin, leaving a mark of your own, before you sink to your knees before him.

He can feel himself hardening from the simplest of touches, from seeing you on your knees before him, and it makes him curse the effect that you have on him. He hasn’t felt this in ages, hasn’t been so easily turned on in years, and it’s almost overwhelming when you lick your lips and grip the base of his cock. “You don’t have to,” he breathes instantly, his hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I know,” you assure him, your eyes wide and earnest, “but I want to.” You keep your eyes on his for a moment, hesitating slightly, before you add, “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

Luke audibly groans at your words and nods his agreement as you stare up at him. “Okay,” he nods, already feeling fucked and you’ve barely even touched him, “okay, Go ahead, then.”

He’s not sure how he feels about the effect that you have on him but he knows that it leaves him weak in the knees as he watches you grip his thighs and begin pressing kisses to his lower stomach. His hands return to your hair and his fingers tangle in the strands as you nip at his hipbones, your lips burning a trail of fire against his skin wherever they touch. He’s never been one to beg but he feels compelled to do so as you bypass his cock to continue pressing teasing kisses to his thighs. But before he can open his mouth, your lips are pressed to the shaft of his cock and he tightens his grip on your hair.

“You can pull my hair if you want,” you breathe against his shaft, the vibrations clouding his mind with lust and overwhelming his senses as your gaze lifts to meet his. “I don’t mind.”

And Luke feels like he’s going to combust as you take the head of his cock between your lips.

Luke can’t remember the last time that he got this worked up over a blowjob, can’t remember the last proper blowjob he’d gotten, but he knows that it was nothing compared to this. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his shaft, your lips wrapped around the head, your hand rolling his balls in your palm; it’s all so incredibly overwhelming and he can’t help himself as he tugs at your hair and begins to control your pace.

At the feeling of Luke taking control, of him fucking your mouth and tugging your hair, you moan around his cock and he swears he could cum right there. He feels like a fucking teenager, so close to cumming even though you’ve barely started blowing him, but he knows that he has to pull you away or he won’t last long enough to feel you.

So he pulls you off of his cock by your hair and swears at the audible groan that leaves your lips. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he breathes, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

You smile at him, so innocent and sweet and Luke feels his cock twitch at the contrast he’s able to see in you. He’s enamored with you, wants to see every side of you that you’ll let him, and he can’t help himself as he leans in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. As you lose yourself in the feeling, Luke’s hands drop lower. One grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin, as the other dips between your legs. Your hands move to his hair and you tug at the curly strands as his fingers brush your folds, gathering wetness, before he slowly dips two into your entrance.

You groan at the feeling, at the slight sting, but when Luke moves to pull his hand away, you whisper, “I’m fine, keep going,” against his lips. In an effort to distract you, Luke moves his thumb to your clit and brushes quick circles over the bundle of nerves as he stretches you open. 

The experience is less sensual than the first time, more desperate to feel one another after weeks of suppressing your desire, and you can’t help yourself as you breathe, “Please, Luke. Just want to feel you,” against his lips. “I’m fine, promise, just fuck me.”

Luke nods his agreement, his fingers heat and moving to your hips before he begins walking you back toward the bed. You mull over the thought for a moment before you place a hand on his chest and stop him before he can nudge you down to lie on your back. “Can I ride you?” you ask, your voice quiet. 

“Fuck, pretty girl,” Luke breathes as he pulls away from you and reaches for his discarded jeans, “gonna kill me. Yeah, fuck, ‘course you can.”

You watch as Luke climbs onto the bed and settles against the headboard before he rips open the foil packet and rolls the condom onto his length. He holds out his hand for you to take the moment you kneel on the bed yourself and helps you settle into a comfortable position over his thighs before his hands drop to your hips. He gives you full control, allows you to move at your own pace, and you’re thankful for this as you grip the base of his cock and align him with your entrance.

Luke watches, his breath caught in his throat, as you sink onto him. Both of you release strangled moans as you fully seat yourself on his cock and he’s certain he’s never felt this overwhelmed by sex. “Fuck,” he breathes, his hands moving from your hips to knead your breasts, “feel so good around me, pretty girl. Take me so well.”

You moan at Luke’s words and begin moving, grinding your hips against his and clenching around him at the feeling. “I feel so full,” you whimper, dropping your head to his shoulder as you experimentally lift your hips and drop back down.

As Luke focuses his attention on your nipples, you set a pace that’s both quick and rough and Luke makes a mental note of what you like as he feels you tightening around him. When he feels you clench unexpectedly, he glances down and groans at the sight of your fingers rubbing quick circles over your clit. He wants to feel you cum for him, wants to feel you fall over the edge once again, and he can’t help himself as he nudges your hand out of the way to continue the stimulation before he breathes, “Come on, pretty girl. Want to see you cum for me. Can you do that? Can you cum on my cock?”

You whimper at Luke’s words, bury your face in the crook of his neck, and will your body to do as he asked and fall over the edge for him. With him whispering encouraging words in your ear, praise and filth alike, you quickly reach your high and Luke removes the hand on your waist to move your face so that he can see you as you fall over the edge.

Luke thinks that you look so beautiful as he watches your eyes flutter shut and your mouth drop open with a breath of his name as you cum around his cock. And it’s this, combined with the feeling of you tightening around him like a vice, that has him falling over the edge with you.

You remain on his lap for a moment, your chest heaving and your heart pounding, before you climb off of him and allow him to toss the condom into the trashcan beside the bed. Just as you’d done that night weeks ago, you curl into his side and Luke wraps his arms tightly around you. The both of you are quiet for a moment as you catch your breath before you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Luke frowns at your apology and asks, “What for?”

You hear the genuine confusion in his tone and shrug as you gently trace patterns against his chest. “I ghosted you. I spent two weeks trying to pretend that you didn’t exist when you were nothing but sweet to me that morning. I should’ve talked to you.” You pause for a moment before you add, “Ghosting means disappearing, by the way.”

“I know what ghosting means,” Luke laughs as he pinches your side playfully, “I’m old, not senile.” You smile at this as his hands begin stroking your sides comfortingly. “You don’t have to apologize,” he assures you, “I should be the one to apologize. I should’ve stayed with you. I knew how you were feeling. I saw the look on your face, I saw the look in your eyes. I should’ve asked you to talk to me before I left but I was afraid. I thought that talking to you would open a can of worms that I wasn’t ready for but that wasn’t fair of me. I’m not in this alone and neither are you.” 

He pauses for a moment before he admits quietly, “It doesn’t matter how nice I was. What matters is how you felt, how you feel now, and I should’ve realized how tough this was going to be for you.” He smiles softly at you as he continues, “I know you. I know that you overthink everything, that you second guess yourself even if you shouldn’t, and I’m sure that your brain hasn’t slowed down since that night.”

“That’s not on you, though,” you argue weakly, “you can’t help the way that my brain is. I should’ve handled it better. I should’ve been able to keep my emotions in check. I should’ve talked to you, asked you to stay. But that irrational part of my brain that tells me no one will ever want me said that you were rejecting me and I couldn’t.”

“Pretty girl,” Luke sighs sadly, “I wasn’t rejecting you. I wanted to give you an out. To let you go if that’s what you wanted. But you can’t beat yourself up over this.” He moves his hands to gently brush your hair from your face as he continues gently, “You’re only twenty-two. I ran like hell when I was your age. Dylan was the first overwhelming situation that I didn’t run from. I didn’t talk much, couldn’t open up easily, so don’t feel bad that you did what was natural for you. Don’t feel bad that you tried to sort this out on your own. Just know that, next time, you don’t have to do this alone. I hope you know that you can come to me but I understand that trust is earned, not freely given.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “Can you tell me what you’re thinking? What you’ve been thinking? Honestly, no filter.”

“Right now, I’m thinking about how happy I am to be back in your arms,” you whisper, your cheeks heating as you stare at the silver necklace resting against Luke’s chest, “but my mind has been a mess for the past two weeks. I’m not sure what I’m thinking anymore. I’ve felt every emotion in the book at least twice and I’m so tired.”

Luke gives you a moment to breathe and rubs your shoulder soothingly as you continue. “I feel elated that you wanted me, that you gave me something I’ve wanted for years but I also feel nervous that this is something fun for you, a game. I feel terrified that you’re just using me as some sort of answer to a midlife crisis and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Luke knows that you have more to say but he can’t help himself as he cups your cheek and turns your head to face him. “This isn’t a game to me,” Luke assures you, his voice strong and steady, “I’m not having a midlife crisis. I’m just as overwhelmed and terrified as you are. You’re twenty-two, pretty girl. You could do so much better than some old man like me. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. My best years are behind me. I’ve thought about this before, thought about you, but I told myself that it was wrong. I told myself that I shouldn’t want you because I’ve watched you grow up over the past four years. I’ve seen you grow from being a timid eighteen year old to a strong, independent twenty-two year old and I’m so proud of you.”

“But the more I got to know you, the more time I spent with you, the more I wanted you. The more sides of yourself that you showed me, the more I wanted you. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t make that clear before we slept together. I want this to be more than sex,” he informs you quietly, “and I never meant to make you doubt yourself in this way.”

He frowns as tears begin spilling past your lashes but before he can comfort you, you shake your head slightly. “Good tears,” you whisper, “good tears. I’m just so relieved. I want something more, too. But can we be something more?”

Luke sighs at your question and lightly shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, pretty girl,” he answers honestly, “I want nothing more but it will be so hard.” He hesitates for a moment before he sighs, “Dylan is my baby. I love her more than anything and I know that this isn’t going to be easy for her. And I know that it’s not going to be easy for you, either. I saw the look on your face when she asked you to be her maid of honor. Those weren’t happy tears.”

“I’m so terrified,” you answer honestly, “I’m terrified of what will happen if she finds out.” Luke brushes the tears from your cheeks as you continue, “I have genuine feelings for you, feelings that I want to explore, but the thought of hurting Dylan makes me so nauseous. She’s helped me through some of the worst moments of my life. She’s my constant, my confidant, my person. I love her so much and I don’t want to lose her.” 

Luke feels his heart simultaneously swell and crack at the words spilling past your lips. He understands that keeping Dylan likely means losing this before it even begins. But he also understands that keep this most likely means both of you losing Dylan and that’s the worst kind of heartbreak that he can imagine. He doesn’t want you to have to choose, doesn’t want you to feel torn between the two of them, so when you whisper, “I don’t want to lose either of you. You both mean too much to me,” he decides that there has to be a third option.

There has to be a way for you to keep both him and Dylan in your life. There has to be a way for him to keep both you and Dylan in his life. And as he soothes you to sleep, your exhausted eyes closing without resistance for the first time in two weeks, Luke decides that he’s going to do whatever it takes to make sure that neither of you are forced to choose.

Author’s Note: I’ve read through this a thousand times so if I missed anything, I’m sorry. I know I said Tuesday but I realized that if I didn’t go ahead and upload it, I would keep changing it and I would end up with a higher word count and a more confusing plot line so. Here we go. Please let me know what you think. I’m so grateful for all the feedback I’ve been given on Morning Fears. It means the world to me. I love you, guys!

[lakinda5654]

~~~~A Girl and A God~~~~ Chapter 11- Heart Disease

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A Girl and A God is a RATED M Loki Fanfic with an original character, Alexa, who is taken in by Tony Stark after the revelation of abilities of her own. There’s sex, romance, heartbreak, action, fluff, angst, all that good stuff. Full description in blog, and a jump-to-chapter list if you just want the smut or the cuteness bits. Enjoy <3 

Chapter Summary: Alexa and Loki have an important conversation, Alexa tries to leave for the night but Loki has other plans...

Contains: cuteness, hints of lust, more cuteness so much cuteness imma die, mischief

Word Count: 1,441

~Previous Chapter~~Next Chapter~

~~Beginning of Story~~

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As soon as Alexa pulled back from his lips, Loki rested his forehead against hers. It was colder than she’d expected. She got brave and moved towards his lips again. To her surprise and embarrassment, he turned his head away. His eyes were focused on the floor, but by his demeanor, she thought he was just trying to be focused on anything but her.

Oh god…Alexa thought. She desperately tried to figure out what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry Loki I shouldn’t have…”

She was cut off. “No. It’s not that…”

His eyes returned to hers. His face appeared a mix of anger, frustration, anxiety, sadness.

Alexa was about to speak when he came out with, “Are you real. Is this real. I can’t do this again. Every horrid thing in my life has begun under the guise of love. Falling for it again instead of continuing my content solitude…I hate it. I know I’m just going to be hurt again and made to look like a fool.” his voice was almost a whisper.

Alexa looked at him. “I know.” Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears. “I feel that way too.” 

He looked up at her, looking out of breath as if anxiety would overtake him at any moment.

 “But I’ve chosen to try for more than contentment in solitude.” She placed her hand on his cheek. He seemed to melt into it, closing his eyes and barely pushing his face into her palm. “My life only has a few moments, remember?” Alexa said with a tearful grin. “Loki…if I ever hurt you I would probably want to give up the rest of my moments…for being like all the other thorns in your life… it would cause me so much guilt and pain that the rest of my moments would be too miserable to continue on with.” 

Her words seemed to help him while also overwhelming him, to have someone who appeared to care so much.

They sat in silence for a moment. Loki still seemed anxious. 

“Hey… let's get you to sleep.” She said in the most gentle voice she could. “We might be able to eat breakfast together tomorrow.” Her gentle smile caught his eyes and caused him to relax some of his tense muscles. He closed his eyes and nodded, stood and made his way to the bed, his strong feet padding across the hard floor. 

As he pulled himself under the blankets and used his magic to get undressed, Alexa went to her bedside table and pulled out a spare mobile charger that she’d kept plugged in all day to help her get through the night. Her jacket was already slung over her arm and she shoved the charger into her small black purse. “Goodnight Loki,” she said in the warmest tone she could.

He didn’t say anything. As she reached the door, she found it was locked.

What the...she yanked harder at the knob.

For a moment she was concerned until she saw the green glow the doorknob shined with. She slowly turned around and raised her eyebrows at the man who lied in her bed on his side, staring at her with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, problems with the door, Petal? That’s a shame. I guess you’ll have to stay.” She just realized how sexy his accent was, and it seemed to come on stronger at times. Like now.

“Loki.” Alexa rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“….LLLoki”

He raised his eyebrows innocently.

Without breaking eye contact she placed her hand on the doorknob and jiggled it violently.

He was holding back his laughter.

“Boy!” she said with a laugh.

Loki shrugged and rolled over, his face now out of her view.

“Ok no fuck you. I’m not your prisoner bitch your mine!” Alexa said, laughing.

No response. Though she knew he was laughing to himself.

“Loki!”

No response still.

Something small hit the back of his head. Loki’s hand flew up and felt where it hit, looking around now “What was…”

Another hit.

“Hey!” He said sitting up and looking around, only to see a skittle fly and thump his forehead. He looked at Alexa, who was directing another one from a distance with her finger, not breaking eye contact with him. Her face was smug, her eyebrows raised, and her smile growing. As another began to fling, Loki used his own power and held it back, launching it back at its sender. It hit her hip.

“Oh, bitch you wanna go? Ok, we’re going then” Alexa said, her voice was full of laughter.

This was a side of her Loki hadn’t seen… she was using so much Midguardian slang it seemed that she was finally truly relaxed, and more importantly, having fun.

Loki jumped out of bed, holding a pillow as a shield. 7 or 8 skittles flew at him, a couple hitting him but most he blocked with his pillow. He launched some back, and their room was filled with laughter.

It was beautiful. How these two were so happy with one another. Both of their lives were filled with sorrow and misery, tragedy, and loneliness. But here they were,

throwing candy at each other.

Loki managed to lift an entire bowl of MnMs with his powers and maneuver them without Alexa seeing. 

“Ahh!” She let out a squeal as the entire bowl dumped on her head, cold candies falling in her shirt. “Ok, ok you win!” She said laughing, shaking the candy off and looking at the mess around her. Loki’s eyes were so happy. She realized this was likely the only bit of real fun he’d gotten in months.

They laughed and caught their breath for a moment before Loki realized the waste they’d created. “I’m sorry about your sweets...”

“Oh don't worry. If we ate all that we’d end up with heart disease. Did you know that’s the number one killer in this country? I mean honestly, if that maniac wants half the life to die he just needs to help McDonald’s go intergalactic...” 

She paused, realizing that shed just brought up Loki’s torturer out of nowhere. She paused and facepalmed herself. “I... I am so sorry. I should not have brought that up that was so-”

Loki stopped her. “It’s alright Petal.” he was giggling at her social clumsiness and didn’t seem too bothered.

With a swirl of Alexa’s fingers, all of the candy flew off of the floor and into the trash can, and the bowls flew to the sink.

Before she could start to assert that really, it was time for her to go, he was in front of her again, once more making her jump.

“Stay” was all Loki said. Alexa looked up at him. “Loki, I need to go charge and…”

“Don’t,” he said it lightly. He was smiling. This wasn’t like a command. It was a request made from someone who was grateful for their few moments and wanted to use each and every one that he could.

She looked at his eyes. They were filled with kindness, not lust. Though with him shirtless in front of her this close she didn’t trust the same of her own. “Fine,” she said rolling her eyes. “I’ll charge tomorrow then. I guess I can sleep tonight.”

Loki appeared to be hiding his level of joy and nodded. “As if you had a choice. I am a prince and a god. You are to obey me, mortal girl.” He said in a booming voice that would have made her nervous if it weren’t for the playful grin that managed to stay in his expression. Alexa rolled her eyes, turned and walked into the bathroom, her pajamas jumping themselves out from the closet and following her.

She came out in a pair of sweats and a graphic tee.

Loki was lying on his side, watching Alexa walk to the bed. She crawled in on the other side and settled in for the night. 

For a moment, the two both lied there, staring at the ceiling. There was such a strong tug at her heart from the person lying next to her, she felt almost surely if she looked over she could see it. She wondered if she could… she’d seen others in love. Their souls physically connected when they were side by side as if they held hands... was this that feeling, or was she imagining it?

The feeling was so strong, but she didn’t know if he felt it too. Alexa gathered her courage and gently reached her arm over towards his. When their fingers touched, Loki wrapped his larger hand around hers. They both smiled, and slowly, fell asleep.

[mvssmallow]

Bloodline, Part VII

Previous Chapters

Soundtrack: Mind Games by Sickick | Call Out My Name by The Weeknd

He doesn’t see Jiwon for a week. Then it’s two weeks. Then it’s nearly a whole entire month.

There’s a fine line between the growing resentment in his head and overwhelming dread in his heart. Without ever wanting it to happen, he now has someone he has to worry about; and it’s not just whether Jiwon was healthy, if his wounds were healing, if he took all the antibiotics, if he was eating properly…..

No.

He’s worried Jiwon will never come back at all.

He’s worried Jiwon is somewhere out there with the type of people who carry guns in their jeans and won’t hesitate to cut his skin with rusty blades or betray him at the first chance they get.

He’s worried Jiun won’t have a brother. 

He’s worried Jiwon is dead.

The worry and uncertainty makes him ache like there’s a deep dark chasm somewhere inside his chest.

It’s fucking stupid.

He’s fucking stupid.

He hates it.

He never asked for this. They aren’t anything to each other and he’s been so blinded by the face in front of him that his heart had gone right ahead and gotten itself attached to something that can never be caught, like water slipping through his fingers. They aren’t anything to each other and all he has to show for it is this gnawing anxiety that never leaves his stomach.

If his personality and behaviour were irritating before, it’s bordering on unbearable now. If he was already trying to socially isolate himself before, he’s completely socially isolated now. There are brief coffee breaks with Yun and raspberry danish pastries with Jin but neither of them pressure him to talk any more than he wants to. Their understanding is just enough to get him through the day.

Or at least it does until 5:30 pm comes round and his head begins its fight with his heart about staying late, just in case.

Just in case what? Jiwon comes in and bleeds all his floor again? Or tells him he’s being creepy? Or maybe he’ll announce that he’s seeing a girl he’s crazy about. Or maybe Jiun gets sick again and he’ll have to deal with everything that goes with that.

He sits there cleaning his desk distractedly and lets his brain chew itself to death. It’s 5:55 pm when Jin shuffles carefully into his room.

“Hey, what are you still doing here? There’s no appointments left. I’m about to close soon.”

“I’m just finishing off some work.” He says, hoping it sounds convincing but knowing it really doesn’t, especially when he’s been cleaning his stethoscope for 7 minutes straight.

Jin looks at him for a few seconds before taking a breath in.

Well, shit. Here we go. He knows what’s coming.

“Look, feel free to tell me to fuck off but I’m kinda worried about you. I know you’ve probably got it all sorted out but well, it’s my job to worry about all you punk doctors.”

The last thing he ever wants is to bring his personal life to work and make it everyone else’s problem. 

“Thanks Jin but I’m okay.” He cracks a smile and starts to pack up his bag. “Just been a crazy time, you know?”

Jin leans against his doorframe with a skeptical but sympathetic look. “Something I can help you with?”

“No, it’s fine. Just need a good night’s sleep or something.” He claps Jin’s shoulder on the way past. “See you tomorrow.”

It’s just a short walk to the car, he parks next to the clinic now but still, he walks with one hand clutching his bag and the other in his pocket, the fingers curled around a cold black butterfly knife. Just in case.

But no-one sneaks up on him. The car park is empty. He’s not sure why that’s more disappointing than it should be. The sun was setting, the sky was almost pretty to look at if he was into that kind of thing. Well, he pauses to look anyway because it’s violet and indigo and he likes how violently the colours bleed into each other.

“Hey.”

“ARGHH FUCK!” He jumps back, banging his butt painfully on the side door mirror and fumbling so much that the butterfly knife in his hand falls to the ground with a loud clatter.

His head calms down once he sees Jiwon’s face and smells his familiar scent but it takes his heart a little long to follow.

“Don’t do that! Geez!” He rubs his butt gingerly, it’ll probably bruise and make sitting down for the next week a damm annoyance. Once the initial pain, irritation and anger boils over, he just feels cheated and betrayed somehow, like he’s been abandoned all this time. 

Don’t be stupid, Hanbin.

You’re nothing to him.

Jiwon pulls down his hoodie and throws him a look that’s more apologetic this time. “Sorry. You kinda scare easy huh?”

He shoots Jiwon his dirtiest scowl. “Pretty normal response to being jumped in a carpark.”

“Sorry.” Jiwon repeats with a lopsided smile before bending down to pick up the butterfly knife. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He mutters, feeling exposed, embarrassed and stupid that he even carries it around.

“If you get jumped again, drop it and kick it under the car so they don’t see it.”

They? Who is they?

“How am I supposed to use it if it’s under the car?”

“Pretend to fall down.”

“And what? Lay on the ground and stab the guy’s toes?” He jokes, trying not to freak out about how ridiculous this entire conversation is.

Jiwon shrugs casually, like he’s discussing the weather. “Ankle is a better option. He won’t be able to run properly.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that so he just stares at Jiwon’s face, taking in the dark circles and tired eyes. He hates talking and being forced into socialising but the silence between them now is even worse, like neither knowing how to ask what they want to ask.

“What are you doing here?” He says eventually when the silence stretches on too long. It comes out as an accusation but he can’t help it.

Jiwon shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that infuriates him.

“I think I need antibiotics.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Infection or something.”

He turns around to look back at the clinic but Jin’s already closing and punching in the security code. Jiwon follows his line of vision with a disappointed and distrustful frown.

“Forget it, I’ll figure something else out.”

He whips his head back but Jiwon is already pulling his hood up and backing away. His ignores the panic in his head and heartsink in his chest because he really hates watching this problematic idiot walk away from him again.

“What? No. It’s fine. Jin’s cool. He’s not going to say anything.” He blurts out, half pleading. “If you’re sick-”

“No, it’s okay. I better go before he starts asking me shit again.”

He barely gets a protest in before he’s watching that broad back walk away.

“Jiwon! Wait!”

For a split second, he thinks that maybe Jiwon will just keep walking but no, there’s finally the freeze of those shoulders and then, slowly, like in a goddamm movie, Jiwon turns around to look at him, face curious but cautious. Maybe a little hopeful. Dark eyes still tired, colour a little ashen, everything a little drained but nothing takes away from all the shadows and angles that cut across that face.

Fuck. Why does he always have to look like that?

He forces himself to tear his eyes away and digs around his doctor’s bag for the spare packets of antibiotics he keeps for emergencies. It’s broad spectrum. It’ll cover most infections. Not ideal but since when was anything to do with Jiwon considered ideal?

“Here.” He says, holding out two boxes of tablets. “It’s one every 12 hours. Instructions and info in the box. You’re not allergic to these.”

Jiwon stares at his face with a completely unreadable expression before looking at the tablets like they were a bomb about to go off. In the distance, Jin is already making his way to the car park and it’s probably that fact that kicks Jiwon into a more urgent action.

Warm fingers brush his briefly and there’s the slight scrape of blunt finger nails as Jiwon takes the tablets and stuffs them in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Thanks...um, I....er....”

In any other lifetime, in any other situation, he’d find it fucking endearing and adorable how a stubborn guy like Jiwon even stutters at all. But. This wasn’t a normal situation. There’s no time to dwell on it. 

“Go. Before he gets here.”

There’s a grateful nod before Jiwon turns and walks back into the violet-indigo evening. He wants to look, wants to watch, but he can’t, he shouldn’t. His brain is still offline, he can’t trust himself not to do something stupid.

It takes too long to find his keys and soon enough, Jin siddles up with a knowing smirk.

“Couldn’t keep away huh?”

“Jin, drop it okay?” He replies wearily.

“What did he want?”

“Antibiotics.”

“Ah, cut himself accidentally again?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

He knows Jin isn’t talking about medicine.

“I’m not doing anything.” He says defensively. “We’re not doing anything. It’s just medical. I swear.”

It’s the truth but for some reason, it feels like a lie.

“Just....be careful. Okay?” Jin says with an unusually sympathetic smile. “It’s a lot of paperwork to find a replacement for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He says with an eye roll. “Go home, dad.”

“See you tomorrow, you punk.”

The bruise on his butt aches a little during the drive home. He eats dinner on the couch watching anime because the news got too depressing. He dreads sleeping, delaying it to the last possible moment, when he is physically so exhausted that his body crashes and his mind finally gives in.

He dreams.

He dreams of a sharp jawline smiling against his skin and of blunt fingernails running down his back. There’s the faintest echo of a Thank You and a smile that never reaches those dark cautious eyes.

When he wakes, there’s just the quiet pale dawn streaming through his window. There’s nothing else. Just his breathing, his loneliness and a cold butterfly knife on his bedside table.

[ourforbiddenworlds]

1.1. Paranoia

Time, time, time, see what's become of me

While I looked around

For my possibilities

I was so hard to please

But look around, leaves are brown

And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Seasons change with the scenery

Weaving time in a tapestry

Won't you stop and remember me?

22:30 pm

She dressed in a hurry, putting on an oversized green sweater with a turtleneck and black cargo pants, drying her hair with a towel as best she could and tying it over her head without worrying too much about it.

JFK Airport: The Regis Air Flight 753 Tragedy

Flight 753 departed Germany with 210 aboard including flight crew.

It landed safely before going dark during taxiing.

All passengers feared dead.

She could still hear the tragic broadcast from her bedroom. As she pulled on a pair of boots over her pants, she took a glance around and all the things she had left unfinished the night before. Her desk was full of unorganized papers, open books and used teacups, the clutter of magazines, and even more books and folders piled on the floor. She saw a couple of dirty t-shirts on the back of her chair, and the open door of her closet.

The scene would have been familiar any other moment, but right now was turned upside down by a set of other sensations, causing a sickly emptiness in her stomach, overcome with a horribly inescapable feeling of claustrophobia.

Sighing heavily, she rubbed her tired eyes, and stretched the muscles of her neck with a rotating motion, but she ended up wincing at the painful tension and considered doubling the dose of anti-flu she had been taking during the week. The fever had gone down earlier, maybe that would make her feel better.

"Sorry, I could not hear your question over all that mental noise, can you repeat it please?" He had finished his coffee a long time ago while she continued to read the papers he had passed on to her. Now and after fifteen long minutes, he could not help but be sarcastic due her silence. She did not look up at him, but her lips pressed into a thin line told him everything.

"Are you sure you want this job?" She examined the papers on the table once more, even after knowing he had already decided on the subject and she had nothing more to say.

"Do you doubt me? Look, I called you because you were the first person that came to my mind, you have experience in all this, and already passed all the tests, basically I'm inside."

"And you know I'm not in the system anymore."

She was retired.

She lifted the backpack she discarded on the floor the day before, shaking the dust off of it and then emptied it on top of her mattress. Books fell first, along with the rest; a national geographic magazine, a sketchbook, the remains of an empty pack of snickers, and a rectangular black case.

Opening the case, she looked within, considering again whether it would be needed, or if her paranoia was forcing her to take hasty action.

In another time, in another life, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But after years of looking for a more peaceful life, she still had the habit, not because of the way of life in which she had been raised, but because she knew it was a necessary evil.

She holstered the small handgun at her waist, hiding it under her sweater, and ultimately wrapping herself in a long jacket, she did so while listening to the reporter's voice from the television, talking about the press conference that the CDC and airport authorities would give in an hour, while the news anchors was speculating about the causes of such a big tragedy might be. A terrorist attack? Accidental decompression of the cabin? Or a lethal virus that threatened to expand from the moment they opened the escape hatch?

The silence of her apartment was interrupted by the occasional noise of a police siren moving away in the distance, or her neighbors continuous chatting and arguing. Someone flushed a toilet on the top floor and there was a gurgling of the pipes.

She thought she might have heard something, a vibration, a buzzing, or even a whisper, but dismissed it with a shake of her head. Her mind, sharp and imaginative, questioned the recent events. This doubt was likely caused by a new wave of fever, or perhaps she was still rattled by the nightmare that had disturbed her sleep only an hour before. Had Nikolay acted correctly by alerting her of the danger? Or was it an exaggeration produced by the collective confusion of the moment?

The street where she resided in Brighton Beach was deserted at that time of night. She secured the lock on her front door with two keys; the neighborhood was quiet, but even so her experience had taught her well one should never trust the appearances of a place.

She lived on the fifth floor, with a fire ladder that zigzagged down to a common patio and a parking lot, surrounded by a large black fence. The building adjoined a three-story grocery store, and both structures were separated by only ten meters from each other. The darkness of the alley smiled at her from below.

Covering her nose and mouth with her scarf, she avoided the smell of contamination. Without making noise, she crossed the outer corridor in great strides and went down the stairs with the same impetus with which she had left her apartment.

Crossing the parking lot with caution so no one could see her was easy at that time of the night, she did not like to attract attention, but she suspected that most residents would not dare to take their eyes off their TV screens, watching in the midst of their morbidity the latest events of the tragedy of the Regis Air.

xxx

She stopped behind a van, almost reaching the huge black gate that someone careless had left half-open. Holding her breath, she waited for the strange buzz to return once more. Skipping down the stairs, she thought it was only the electric generator near the garbage containers, but when a strange sensation overcame her and an imperceptible static vibration hit the hair on the back of her neck, she stopped.

When the sound did not return, and she resumed her march, slower this time, crossing the gate and facing the empty street.

She breathed slowly behind her thick scarf, appreciating the loneliness of the surrounding street. Even after walking several blocks to a main avenue, a persistent tingling plagued the base of her neck. Was she being paranoid?

She stopped once more before crossing the next street. The fog blocking her view. Glancing behind her only confused her doubts; there was nothing there.

The nearest subway station was only a few blocks away, and she hurried on. The shape of the street lights were indistinguishable against the thick, white polluted air; their light was nothing more than orbs. She usually enjoyed walking at night, but the last events left no room for such trivialities.

She glanced behind her one more time, without stopping, as she turned a corner. She tensed and frowned, her nostrils flaring at the sight of… it.

Finally.

There it was.

She caught only a glimpse of it, but she quickened her pace. Not bothering to turn around a third time.

Upon arriving at the Brighton Beach subway station, she decided to take the elevator to the platform, instead of the electric stairs. The station was above the avenue, and from her position at ground level it seemed to be lost in the cloud of pollution.

If that presence was following her to ask her about the weather, it would be better if they did so quickly. When the metal doors closed behind her, she leaned against them from exhaustion, her heart thudding inside her chest. She tried to catch her breath while covering her face with both trembling hands. As the wave of anxiety recede, she quickly looked for her cell phone.

You know more than anyone else, don't doubt that I'll call on you if something happens.

It was only when she pulled it from her pocket that she realized there was no signal at all.

What… when…?

The elevator rose with a metallic and creaking noise. The doors opened and she blinked in consternation at the absolute darkness before her.

A sudden shiver shot up her spine, ruffling the hairs on her nape and replacing every thought in her head with a gripping feeling.

She was more aware than ever of the hanging weight pressing on the right side of her ribs, under her sweater. Wringing her hands inside her jacket, she stepped out of the elevator without waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

Almost immediately the elevator closed its doors and went down again, as if someone was calling for it.

Even at that time of night the avenue and also the platform used to show signs of activity, but in those moments everything seemed suspended in time. She could feel the weight of an almost palpable darkness, and when she tried to expand her senses against it, an alien force fought against her own.

"You're never going to tell me why you retired?" His mouth was full of cookies and she fought the impulse to giggle. Organizing all papers in the folder again, she stared at him over the small table.

"Because sometimes knowledge is a terrible thing, Kolya"

Sometimes you do not want to know what is hiding in the dark. It's better to look through it, and maybe it will not look back at you.

She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her handgun, lingering for a few moments as she tried to squint beyond the thick air, her muscles tensing. She advanced a few meters until she was within walking distance of the train tracks, taking out the gun as she turned towards the elevator.

The silence that followed to the noise told her that it was already there, but her eyes could not pierce the darkness in any way.

The instinct to run was strong, but the anger was stronger. She uncovered her face from the scarf while she pointed the weapon towards the darkness, and with a loud grunt she advanced against it, despite the overwhelming impulse to run, the fear. She called for it, with all the power of her mind, through the disturbance it has thrown over her. Ignoring it was not an option anymore, and she has had enough.

"What the hell do you want, you piece of shit?!"

The train seemed to come out of nowhere and shook the entire platform with its weight. She jumped from the impression as if she had received an electric shock, her body trembling with adrenaline and walking away as fast as she could when receiving the blow of air due to the speed of the machine.

The sudden change of scenery shook her, and she analyzed the situation quickly. The lights illuminated the platform around her, and there were people sitting waiting for the train just a few meters away, observing her weird behaviour with displeasure.

Her head told her that all that had been there, she knew it.

But the reason and logic had to fight against the overwhelming emotions that flooded her first.

The heat and rage that had flooded her body had been replaced by a cold sweat. She breathed deeply, in and out, over and over again until the visual static disappeared and her heart rate returned to normal.

The buzzing in her head reamined, like an invasive vibration she now knew with certainty, was the product of something more than just cautious paranoia. The second nature of her own brain warning her that there was something still lurking around.

She stepped through the train doors when they opened, pushing out of her way the few people who stepped out, while giving her dirty looks. She did not look at them, they were just tired and disinterested strangers, who cared nothing but their own problems.

The wagon was almost empty, and she found a seat quickly, while a young couple near the doors and an old man in front of her shot her strange glances. She needed to take one last look at the platform and the strange nocturnal watcher, wishing for it to know that she would not lower her guard even for a moment.

The buzzing inside her head dissipated as the train doors closed and began to slide down the rails.

She sighed slowly, processing the revelation of what just has happened. Distracting herself with her cell phone, she fought to remain calm, trying her hardest to control her shaking hands. The signal had returned, but there were no messages or missed calls.

"Maybe it's none of my business, but your nose is bleeding."

She knew it, but before she could wipe it with the back of her hand, the old man with the cane offered her a handkerchief. She accepted the gesture unceremoniously, thanking only with a nod, but not taking her eyes away from the window and the darkness that laid beyond.

Her body's reactions was betraying her, it has been just a sign of her own weakness. Her pale reflection in the window stared back, and it was then that she noticed that the old man who had offered her help was still watching her through the corridor.

Turning around, she made a gesture to return the handkerchief, folding it to hide insulting blood stain that she had left in it, but the man raised a gloved hand with deformed knuckles, stopping her attempts to stand. "Keep it, you need it more than me right now."

"Thank you." Her words resonated with shyness, as always, trying not to meet the man's eyes by giving him an awkward smile. He quickly scanned her face with narrowing eyes, stopping at her right cheekbone.

Startled by his scrutiny, she turned to the window again, hiding that part of her face and tensing her once more, cursing herself.

"Someone following you?"

She frowned, and for a moment observed the handkerchief stained red between her fingers. It was made with cotton and has two letters "A.S." embroidered in one of the corners. She felt shame for having used and stained something like that, but the man seen not to care. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but her head pounded and the fever had returned. The man's question had taken her by surprise, and when she glanced back at him, the expression he offered, under thick white brows and a black-brimmed hat, was not one of concern, but one of suspicion.

"Yes." She darted her eyes away, hating feeling scrutinized. She keep her eyes on the window, watching the night, and the dim lights of the city.

"And can you tell what was following you?" The man spoke in a raspy, low voice, occasionally glancing at the couple a few seats away from them. Even as frustration weighed down on her shoulders like the damn sword of damocles, the urgency of his voice baffled her, and she turned to him, overcoming her apprehension.

But the old man was no longer looking at her, instead he was staring out of her window. His eyes darted again and again towards the other passengers, as if not wishing to be heard. For a moment she had the unnerving sensation that he actually understood something that she has had trouble understanding for years.

That not all things could be seen by the naked eye.

She shook her head, clearing her mind and her suspicions. The old man was just curious, and she looked unwell. He was just concerned, and she just smiled while questioning whether the man's paranoia might match her own.

"My own shadow." She laughed the answer at the man, who frowned at the strangeness of her response, but she ignored his disappointment, turning to the window to stay there what was left of the trip. He glanced at her one last time, understanding her reserved attitude, before turning his attention to his own window, sinking into absolute silence.

[vanteism]

dearest princess 01 | kth

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: angst, abuse, death, fluff kinda?, royalty!au word count: 2.1k description: false hopes are more dangerous than fears. what happens when a broken girl meets and equally broken prince?

WARNING: As the story develops, mature themes will be implemented. Some of the themes may be triggering, and some may not be suitable for younger readers.

prologue 01

Kim Taehyung was born into a life fit for a king. Maybe because he was destined to become one. He was born into royalty, a prince by design. Some would say that his life was rather easy, that he was fed with a silver spoon, but what many fail to realize is how difficult it was to grow up how he did.

Church bells were sounded, newspapers were quickly distributed until every person that could read was holding in their hands. Printed in bold letters, the headline did not fail to catch the readers eye. 'The Birth of the Crown Prince.' That's right, a prince had been born. It was common knowledge that the royal family had failed to conceive in the past, the queen sought out strange and often unknown ways to help her fertility and the king used his money to hire only the best doctors to figure out what was wrong and, boy, did their hard work pay off.

The kingdom rejoiced, rushing to nearby stores, in search of gifts for the baby. Gifts ranged from clothes to decor to handmade treats that the baby couldn't even consume yet, but it's the thought that counts.

The castle was opened to the public, allowing anyone to come in and see the newborn. The queen had the baby wrapped up in a soft fabric and held him close to her chest, a loving smile drawn across her face. The king looked over his wife and son in admiration, but his mind was flowing with thoughts of something else.

Growing up, Taehyung was given a set of expectations he was expected to meet by the age of 21. His future was set in stone. The moment he could talk, he was introduced to his first tutor. He was taught by the best and had to learn light years faster than his peers, but he never got to control what was around him. His lessons were preplanned, his friends were picked out for him, his actions were strictly monitored by the royal staff. It was hard for Taehyung to really explore his interests since everything he had to do was to benefit him once he became king. He often times found himself stuck, lost in it all. All he ever knew was how to become the perfect heir to the throne, but he so desperately craved more.

The beginning of your life was nothing less than perfect. Since the day you were born, you were surrounded by people who cared for you. One could say you grew up in luxury. Your family was rather wealthy, living in a home that could fit thousands and housed a variety of possessions that the average person would envy. The way you grew up completely contradicted your personality. You were a humble child, never asking for much and also happy with what she had. Joy was always present in your eyes and in the eyes of those who met you. Even when times grew rough, like when your father had lost his long term job, you never let it hinder your days.

To most, your early years appeared to be picture perfect, but no one could've guessed what was to happen in a few years.

Your father losing his job provided a turning point in your life.  He was often away in distant town for work for several weeks at a time. You could describe your father as a bright man, one who always brought light into your childhood alongside your mother of course. She was there when it truly mattered, at least for you. She would draw you into her arms when an aggressive storm kept you awake, singing you lullabies as you slowly drifted to sleep, leaving you feeling protected and warm.

"Oh sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet."

"Mommy, can you sing it again?" you asked,  your eyes glassy and big.

"Anything for you, dearest princess."

All of your memories with her were filled with joy, pure happiness. But soon it became tainted with the sounds of your mother coughing, ringing through the very halls that help the sounds of laughter before.  

You didn't realize what was happening. It never fazed you that your mother was sick. Each second that passed by, you never found yourself sad. Instead, you grew lonelier as your mother sought out medical treatment after medical treatment for her growing illness. Your beloved mother seemed to be disappearing as the days went on, and without anyone to talk to, you would sit in your bed in silence.

Your mother was a smart woman, she never failed to notice how your face would drop when she told you she couldn't play with you, the pain in her chest too strong to bear. She would smile when you tried your hardest to cheer her up when she did not have the strength to leave your bed, your smile masking the worry in your eyes. So one night, she asked your father to bring you home a special gift. Something that would keep you company when she was busy.

The following day your father came home with a box filled with the sound of rustling and heavy panting. You tilt your head in confusion, wondering what it could possibly be. Upon opening the box, you were greeted with a slobbery kiss on your cheek. Your heart fluttered when the animal jumped on you, and there it was. A dog. You look at your father, your eyes asking him if this was yours and all he could do was smile at your happiness.

Soon, your mother was at her lowest. She constantly slept and every time she was awake she was in agony. She tried her best to put up a happy facade when you would enter the room, but even at your age, you knew something was wrong.

And then that night came.

Strangers flooded your house, each with a leather bag in hand, filled to the brim with medical equipment. You later realized that they were doctors, running frantically to try to save your beloved mother. You heard yelling from her bedroom and saw your father pacing back and forth in the corridor. Almost in a state of panic, you rush to tug on your father's pant leg, desperate for an answer.

"Papa, is mommy ok?"

"Why are there these people in our home?"

"Can I see mommy?" you exclaimed, tears brimming your eyes in frustration.

Instead of picking you up and holding you close, your father just shoved you to the side once he heard a doctor shout his name. He pushed you with such force, force fueled by the anxiety and pain within him, and you fell to the floor, letting the tears fall down your small cheeks.

"DO SOMETHING, YOU DUMBASSES!! YOU HAVE TO SAVE MY WIFE!!"

"SIR WE ARE. SHE'S IN A VERY UNPREDICTABLE STATE. SHE DOESN'T HAVE MUCH TIME LEFT."

"PLEASE SAVE HER."

"SIR-"

That's all you heard before the room fell silent, only to be filled seconds later with the monotone beep of a heart monitor and the heart-wrenching sobs of your father.

You walk into the room where your mother laid, the atmosphere dense and somber. The doctors in the room avoided your wandering eyes as you ran over to hold your mother's hand. You stood on your tippy toes, trying to reach over the sheets to see her face. You grabbed her hand, quickly noticing how it was void of color but still warm.

You laid your head in the palm of her hand, grasping on to the last part of life in her body. A single tear made it down your cheek, but you did not let the overwhelming sadness hold you down. A bittersweet smile graced your face as the doctors began to pull the covers over her, a look of pity in their eyes.

"Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too, my dearest princess."

Everything started to change.

As you grew older, you grew quieter. You took over the role of your mother in the house by helping clean and keep everything in order. You had less and less time to focus on your studies as you found yourself looking after your father instead.

Your father stopped looking for jobs and started leaving your home at early times in the morning, hours before you were awake, often leaving no trace. He also began to come back later and later, often times reeking of whiskey or gin and slight traces of women's perfume. His presence, which once brought hope and life, now brought burdens and despondency.

You would wait for your father to pass out before moving him into his bedroom and cleaning him up. You made sure his shirt was changed and that his face was washed and tidy. You laid out a glass of water and some medicine before settling down in your own room, hallways away. You understood why he became who he did, why he decided to drink away his sorrows rather than trying to move past it. You understood how much it shocked him. But what you did not understand were the times where he let his frustrations out on you.

You found him on the floor in front of the front door, face down and breathing steadily. You walk over to pick up his arm, feeling unsettled for reasons unknown. Your father moved his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours. You shift uncomfortably, his gaze cold and harsh.

"You....." he growled as he stood up, his eyes narrowing in anger. "IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU!" he shouted before quickly approaching you, grabbing your wrist sternly with his right arm. The stench of alcohol was stronger than it had ever been. "It should've been you! YOU CAUSED THIS!" His left hand rose and swung towards you, hitting your cheek with a loud slap.

"IF YOU WEREN'T HERE, MY WIFE WOULD BE HERE!" he exclaimed, hitting you over and over again with his fists. Your body was curled up, your arms were holding onto your legs, your hands fisted tightly to help fight the urge to scream back, to scream for help.

"SPEAK YOU LITTLE BITCH! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

"DO YOU EVEN FEEL SORRY?!"

"YOU'RE NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU'RE A MONSTER!"

It continued for what seemed like hours, the insults, the blaming, the hurt. Cuts littered your body, bruises painted your body shades of purple and blue, but not one tear was shed.

Your father raises his hand once more, but he abruptly falls onto the wooden floor, most likely from exhaustion. You stand up, dusting yourself off, ignoring the pain you felt. You moved over to your father's sleeping figure before moving him to his bedroom and cleaning him up. After you finished cleaning up after him, you moved to the bathroom closest to your room, closing the door.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the reflection almost unrecognizable. Dried tears coated your cheeks, bruises prominent. You notice a cut that ran from the back of your ear down to the bottom of your neck, the blood surrounding it was dry. As you continued to analyze your wound, you thought back to when your mother would tend to your cuts after you fell off your bike outside, the same bittersweet smile on your face. You imagined that it was your mother cleaning your cut, that she was the one putting bandages over it.

You didn't understand why he blamed you, but you didn't have it in you to ask why he was doing what he did, scared that he might lash out again. At first, you had thought that was over, that it would never happen again. But you were wrong. It wasn't a daily occurrence, but it happened often enough that you couldn't say it was rare. You tried your best to avoid it, but some nights, you found yourself tending to a fresh set of wounds.

One morning, you awoke to the sound of conversations and bustle, a sound that seemed foreign to your ears. It had been years since you've seen guests in your house. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion once the sound of laughter erupted and traveled through the halls. Still confused, you move your bed sheets over and hurry to get changed. You move out of your room wearily, taking it step by step, traveling closer to the noise.

As you ascend the staircase, you hear your father call out for you. "Ah y/n! There you are! I have someone, or should I say some people," he paused to laugh, "I want you to meet. These three lovely women are our guests and they shall be moving into our home shortly." You look at your father in surprise, your eyes widening. You are at a loss for words but you muster up the courage to ask your father who they are, quietly.

"Oh, my bad darling. Meet your stepmom and stepsisters."

[ourmrmel]

Reasons to Work with Mel Feller — A Business — Executive Coach — Life Coach — Coaching — Mentoring With Mel Feller

Reasons to Work with Mel Feller — A Business — Executive Coach — Life Coach — Coaching — Mentoring With Mel Feller

No matter what stage your business is at, a business coach like Mel Feller can make you work harder and progress faster than you would on your own. From providing a much-needed ego check to helping expand your network, Mel Feller can give you both the tools and perspective you need to go from point A to point B. There are not very many life challenges and issues that Mel Feller has NOT personally gone through. Mel Feller has been through very low spots all the way to enjoying the high mountain views.

Mel Feller knows all too well that we are our own worst enemies. We each have many life challenges that sabotage ourselves, limit our thinking, trigger negative responses and compromise ourselves.

Quickly scan the list below and watch for any items that grab your attention in some way. If you are open and receptive, your intuition will flag items that deserve your attention. Note the life challenges that ‘resonate’ with you,and then start to select 1 to 3 of these to start your exploration.

abandonment absentmindedness abuse accidents accusing acting the clown addictions aggression always being with people ambition analysing anger anxiety arguing arrogance attachment avoidance being judgmental being opinionated being reactive being scattered being too emotional being ungrounded blaming blind devotion boredom bossyness busyness carelessness co-dependency complaining compromise compulsion conflict confusion control cowardice criticism cruelty cynicism deceitfulness deception defensiveness defiance denial dependency depression deviousness discounting dishonesty disorder disoriented dominance doubt drama dreaming egotism emotions envy escape

exaggeration excessive focus on others excuses extremism failure fantasizing faulty beliefs fears feeling needy fixed ideas focusing on the past foolishness forgetfulness frustration futility future thinking glamours greed guilt hate hopelessness humourlessness humour ignorance ignoring illness illusions impatience impractical impulsiveness inaccuracy indecision indifference inertia inflexible character injury insecurity insensitivity intellectualisation intolerance isolation jealousy judging justifying limitations lack of commitment lack of confidence lack of creativity lack of discipline lack of energy lack of purpose lack of trust laughing it off laziness living in the past loneliness low energy lying malnutrition manipulation martyrdom

materialism mediocrity minimizing moodiness narrowness needing to please others negativity no fun non-supportive habits numbness obsessions opportunism over-eating over-exercise over-spending overwhelm over-work pain perfectionism phobias poor health poor self-esteem possessiveness poverty mentality prejudice pride procrastination rationalization rebellion repression resentment resistance ridicule rudeness running away sadness sarcasm seeking approval self-obsession self-centeredness self-deception selfishness self-pity self-sabotage shame shyness sleep solitude status stress stubbornness suffering timidity unexpressed emotions vacillation vanity violence withdrawal worry

All of us experience major and minor life challenges. How we handle these struggles on a daily basis determines our physical, as well as our mental well-being. It takes only a single event to convince us we have no control over our circumstances. Sometimes these challenges consume us with guilt, panic attacks, or chronic fatigue. Our problems pressure us from every side, threatening to crush or break us.

Surprisingly, all life challenges have a direct relationship in defining our purpose in life. If only we could find assurance that there was a plan or reason for the difficulties we face. We search for meaning in tragedy, questioning our reason for hope or a future. “Why me God? How can I ever forgive? I hate my life! How do I stop the pain?”

Life and Business Challenges — Out of Control

Life challenges enable us to see ourselves at our best and our worst. We may attempt to temporarily escape our circumstances, falling into alcohol addiction or drug addiction. Others find themselves overwhelmed, careening out of control — even contemplating how to commit suicide.

A dear friend, Susan, recalled thoughts of driving her car off a cliff. When the rear view mirror revealed her two small children sleeping in the back seat, she brought the car back under control. “My children trusted their mother and rested peacefully even though death threatened to destroy their lives. Their hearts were not troubled and they never were fearful.” After seeking out Mel Feller, Susan realized that she could overcome fear, by receiving God’s gifts of power, love, and self-discipline.

Life and Business Challenges — Beyond Your Control

We face our greatest life challenges when we struggle to find love, security, and assurance that life truly has meaning. Our fears, unhealthy behaviors, and excessive emotional struggles result from our inability to interpret and correctly cope with our circumstances and feelings. Whether wrestling with chronic pain, forgiving infidelity, or trying to conceive, it is possible to move beyond that place of hopelessness.

Why Mel Feller

Based on their own experiences, some Mel Feller’s clients discuss some the benefits to hiring a Mel Feller as business and life coach.

You’ll go outside your comfort zone.

Especially for introverted entrepreneurs who run online businesses, like myself, it is easy to become enmeshed in my own business world. My business coach, Mel Feller, has helped give me the push to step outside my comfort zone, meet new people and try new things in my business. Even extroverted entrepreneurs can be caught in ruts — Mel Feller will push you out of them. — James Andrews

I finally have someone who is not afraid of correcting me.

Every great team has a coach. Think of the best NFL and NBA teams, which all have coaches. A coach is someone who is not afraid to confront you and tell you when you are doing something incorrectly. They have a proven method to success and can help you take your business to the next level. — Thomas Klinkerman

I learned how to make my ideas a reality.

Business coaches have one goal: to make your ideas into a reality. That is exactly what Mel Feller has done for me. Although you may have many brilliant ideas for your company, sometimes it’s hard to know where to start and what to tackle first. Mel Feller will evaluate your plans, assess if they are realistic or will be successful and set out a way that you can implement them correctly. I took a small real estate investing company to one that now owns over 700 doors in Canada. — Liam Thomas

I got personal attention from someone who knows my business inside and out.

I have had a Mel Feller as a business coach for more than five years. The one aspect that a Mel brings, that group sessions or mentors do not, is a keen awareness of your entire business and way of being. There are few times when someone is going to focus just on you for an entire hour, probing you about something that happened last quarter, an employee issue you had three weeks ago or your style of leadership. I thank God that he had 30 plus years of experience. Mark Beckerson

My networking opportunities skyrocketed.

The more you are involved with successful people, the more you will succeed. Aside from the other great points that Mel Feller taught me, networking opportunities skyrocket when your business coach, such as Mel Feller, is out being an advocate for you. They know you and how you react in many situations. You will be top of mind in many cases when your coach is out meeting new people. — Hunter Kayley

I was held accountable for what really matters.

Mel Feller can do wonders for busy entrepreneurs. As you run a growing organization, everything gets complex; you get busy and sometimes push off things you know are important. This is where a great business coach like Mel Feller comes in. You can discuss the vital things you need to accomplish in order to achieve your goals, and your coach will hold you accountable. That alone will make you more effective. — Sandra Hoodik

As you achieve your goals, it is important for you and your team to take the time to celebrate. Sharing this journey with your coach will be exciting and rewarding.

Mel Feller has over three decades of coaching and consulting experience in diverse industries, which provides a rich framework for his organizational insights and creative solutions. I brings a thoughtful approach to his work, carefully integrating both my coaching and consulting skills and abilities. When consulting, my focus is on “what you are doing” (i.e., goal setting, problem solving, taking action and achieving results). When coaching, my focus is on “who you are being” (i.e., how you are leading, aligning your values and tapping your gifts). As a client, they become more consciously aware of how paying attention to — and balancing both — are critically important to their success.

When you combine Mel Feller’s keen insights and engaging style with his in-depth skills, technical certifications and broad industry experience, the result is a uniquely qualified executive coach and organizational consultant.

So… what kind of coach are you?”

I get this question a lot. Moreover, the answer is… I am a Life Coach, Executive Coach, Career Coach, and Business Coach. I coach teens, business executives, authors, artists, entrepreneurs, retired seniors, busy moms and entire organizations.

“Truth telling, honesty, and candor: I loved you Mel Feller! You have so much energy and knowledge! I truly hope I get another opportunity to be coached by you. I see myself a little clearer now, and it’s not so bad.”

Lisa Mathews

“Mel Feller you added more value than we can possibly see right now. Mel Feller, you are warm, inviting, and accommodating. Thank you for coming alongside us in this transition!”

Vanessa Cavanaugh

“Mel Feller the best education session that we have attended in many years! Thank you so much — I am very excited to put everything you have taught us into practice!”

Michael Randolph

“Mr. Mel Feller, Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving a marvelous keynote at our Symposium! While we have not yet collected the official feedback, the unofficial feedback was that You Were a Hit! I heard nothing but compliments regarding your presentations. Thank you for making such a positive impact on our attendees! ”

Lyle Cunningham VP

“Mel Feller uses his humor, compassion, and direct nature to help bring out the best in me. Mel Feller is committed to helping me live…I mean, really live, life to its fullest.”

Jose Rodriguez

Mel Feller Links

https://www.instagram.com/mel.feller

https://ourmrmel.tumblr.com/

https://www.pinterest.com/cfs360/

https://twitter.com/melfeller/following

https://wordpress.com/page/melfellerinternetbusinessinnovations.wordpress.com

https://dribbble.com/melfeller

https://biggerpockets.com/forums/79/topics/49008-larry-goins-bootcamp

https://txbusinessdb.com/p/mel-feller

https://xindex.com/c/12031660488/mel-feller-financial-services-group-inc

https://buzzfile.com/business/Coaching-For-Success-940-569-9260

https://melfellerrealestateinnovations.wordpress.com

https://myspace.com/mfcfs360

https://goodreads.com/user/show/86266194-mel-feller

https://mfcfs.contently.com

https://alignable.com/wichita-falls-tx/coaching-for-success-360

https://quora.com/profile/Mel-Feller

https://about.me/melfeller

https://independent.academia.edu/MelFeller

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[aniimeziing-blog]

Adrenaline Chapter 6

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/aniimeziing

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/~aniimeziing

Was it possible to feel lonely in a Quirked world?

In a world populated by those who could fly of their own volition, of people able to manipulate the very fabric of the world, of men and women who could shift their genetic make-up at will, of a world where extra limbs or extra body parts were common… Could something as simple as loneliness, a problem so easily solved by companionship and kindness, even exist?

Yes… Yes, it did.

Quietly tapping his fingers atop the wooden desk, Izuku could hear the faint echoes bounce and dash around the room. How his mind had wandered onto this topic, he couldn't really know; nothing too serious had happened to make him question the foundation of society, nothing to make him accuse the Quirked world of a serious crime or even ponder its meaning in general… Nothing too out of the ordinary had happened to make him think these things so… why was he? Glancing down at his fidgeting fingers, he began to spy the bandages bound tightly around his arms, snaking their way down his flesh like linen serpents that constricted and suffocated his dead and crippled flesh away from society. Maybe… maybe that was why he began to think.

These scars, the ones the bandages were hiding from the world, were caused by his Quirk, the power passed onto him by another person without blood or heritage involved… In that case, he was isolated alongside All Might and all the other One for All users, trapped within the stigma and the gross oversimplification of the world, that their combined and crystalized power couldn't and shouldn't be possible; it was a secret that they must all keep to their graves for it put the very world into scale that they would not be able to escape from if the truth came out. In that way, he was lonely, not being allowed to share and talk about his secret to those that cared so much about his wellbeing. Deep down though, he knew it wasn't that. In that circumstance, he still wasn't completely alone and he had others that could understand what he was going through, others that he could relay his feelings to like Recovery Girl and even All Might himself, others that had to go through all the same crap that he was going through now… In fact, for them, in a world growing accustom to the mere idea of powers and innate abilities built within the human genome, it must have been far harder. So, it wasn't that which made him ponder.

It could have been the unrelenting weight pushed upon him by the acceptance of the Quirk…Even the users which had come before him hadn't had the ideology of All Might pushed upon them, the position of the 'Symbol of Peace' thrust upon them. Yes, they had readily accepted the Quirk and the powers it granted but to his knowledge, on the man who had gifted it to him personally had managed to rise throughout the Heroes society with it; it was to such a degree that the very island of Japan seemed to wish him success while it droves of people prayed to this modern, super powered God… And Izuku had to live up to that? The teen had previously been drowning in worry and desire for the man's Quirk that he hadn't really thought about the aftermath of his actions and so he was now sitting here, the very fate of the Hero community in his shaky, scarred hand… In that aspect, he truly was alone. Even then though, there were people like Todoroki and Bakugo who were pushing themselves against Hell and Heaven to reach the Number One spot too, against forces like Endeavour and fate itself, so even the impossible odds put before him were shared by others like him.

Then perhaps… Perhaps it was the nature of his Quirk. Adrenaline. It's very foundation was pure agony, pure fury, that to exert even the slightest amount of power a sacrifice must be made on the part of the user, a toll payed in blood to unleash massive amounts of built up energy and force on-top of the power granted by One for All. Truly, it was a magnificent side-effect, maybe even a whole other Quirk if pushed to its limit… But that is where the ideologies of the future and the ideologies of society clashed. When Izuku was younger, he used to watch All Might fight Villains all the time, watched All Might save people, watched All Might bat away problems like they were nothing and he completely idolized him… Still does, but the main reason why was because he seemed indestructible. Everything he did, he did with a smile that showcased his power and strife, that showed how he wasn't at all scared of death or chaos. That was why Izuku and so many others looked up to him… But how would he be able to be that for the next generation when every attack he gave off, every time he jumped in to save someone, he would have to bleed; the very act showed how weak he truly was, that he wasn't able to save himself, let alone a hostage or someone in danger. That… That was where he was alone.

Loneliness, it wasn't the first time he had felt it. Being Quirkless had its downsides and now he was truly embrace-

"Deku!"

Jolting up from the impact of the verbal bullet, Izuku suddenly recalled where he was; being interrogated by his friends in their classroom. Almost immediately, his skin felt hot and raw, stained scarlet from the intensity of the glares he was receiving. Surrounding him sat the impatient forms of Uraraka, Mina, Iida, Kirishima and Tooru; Iida and Uraraka he understood, they all walked to the station together, but Mina, Kirishima and Tooru didn't make much sense but considering his situation, he wasn't in much position to be questioning those around him (his guess was that the Invisible Heroine was walking home with the pink skinned teen, who was staying behind to figure out why her team-mate suddenly become a literal bloody super-human during their training session and the Hardening Hero was in a similar position).

Vaguely, Izuku began to quickly recall how he ended up in this predicament. After his fight with Kirishima and Satou, he had begun to feel lightheaded and dizzy and so tried to get back to the waiting room as quickly as possible. Before he did, he tried to ignore the prying questions from Uraraka and Mina while helping up his opponents up, which not only left him in hot water with them for not responding in the right way, but also under the gaze of the red headed individual he helped who suddenly became very interested in how his Quirk operated. By the time he got back to the waiting room, he had to deal with the staring and the open mouthed responses from most of his class-mates before Aizawa pretty much forced the class to continue – he had provided Izuku with the bandages to cover his arms, gifted to him by Recovery Girl because she knew how reckless and uncontrollable the teen was at this point in his training. However, he soon realised that his mechanic limb was missing, discarded at the training grounds; this was before he looked over at a certain Uravity to see the device gripped tightly between her fingers. He recalled trying to persuade her to give him the device back, saying that he was going to explain everything but Uraraka wouldn't bring herself to give it back, instead telling him to come back to their classroom after school in order to retrieve it.

That was when he was confronted by the 5 people in the room right now and practically forced to sit down.

"S-Sorry, blanked out for a few minutes. W-What were you talking about Uraraka?"

She sighed and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pacing girl's fists tighten ever so slightly.

"Well, Izuku, I asked you if you would mind explain what the Hell happened just now?"

Izuku. Not Deku, Izuku. To merely hear that coming out of her mouth hurt him a little bit; she was the one to stand up for his degrading nickname, the one that made the pain he felt from Bakugo's usage worth it, the one who successfully changed his label as outcast to something that meant he was able to stand up against the very world itself, the one who stood by him… To hear her ignore that showcased her anger and her fury at this situation, how he was acting reckless and out of character when it came to this whole problem; he was usually so calculated, so meticulous in his decisions but instead, he was just stumbling about like a child hooked up to overwhelming power. He wasn't in control at this point and she and everyone else in the room had seen that…

Tugging on his bandages, Izuku grit his teeth, smashing the pieces of cartilage against each other violently as he vowed to better himself once again; he was going to fight so that Deku would be the only thing he would be viewed as, the person who could rise up against difficulty and shatter any pathetic visages placed before him and not the one who wore that title unceremoniously. Turning his gaze towards the worried girls face, the teen tried to steel himself so that he could face her honestly and not just implode with embarrassment or fear of disappointment.

"I… I was trying to figure out how to best use the new aspect of my Quirk."

He heard the girls shuffling and pacing pause.

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

This time, the question posed came from Kirishima. Tearing his eyes from Uraraka's skittering frame, he looked the confused crimson head in the eye, tracing the rough scar that lay there with his mind to distract himself momentarily.

"His Quirk, duh. We did tell you about it… right?"

On the other end of the classroom, Mina started off her sentiment very high and might, almost arrogant, before quickly descending into worry and anxiety when she recalled past events. Past events that Izuku wasn't present for and so had no proper say in this interaction, instead biding his time highlighting things in his head to avoid the poignant and debilitating stare of his rosy-cheeked friend.

"Nope! He was off doin' stuff with Bakugo when we told the others."

Tooru answered off quite happily, the high-pitched voice erupting from the other end of the room as the chalk began to mysteriously doodle on the black-board. The pink skinned teen sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Tooru…"

"Why? It wasn't important."

"If you reckon me looking sort of dumb is not important."

"What did you say Mina?"

"Ugh, forget it."

From the side of the room, Iida finally decide to make his part in the conversation. Standing up in front of the group, the soft tapping of metal as the teen moved over to stand next to Izuku, the speedster's overwhelming form towering over the much shorter Quirk Inheritor.

"We understand your conviction Izuku, it's what makes you… You. However, what we do not understand is why you would require so much potential harm to activate it?"

As always, Iida was very straight forward with a sort of harsh, blunt honesty that threatened to break Izuku's skull once more but now there was… Something else hidden below his language. Glancing up at the teen, the green haired boy found his mind tilted at what he saw; Iida was perfectly still. Usually, he was quite active, always jittering and moving his arms that it seemed he was almost physically impossible to become still but here he was, statue-esc. Izuku couldn't see his eye either, the strong glare from his glasses reflecting the starting setting sun that sat behind the teens. This was strange…

"Well, ever since my fight with Todoroki, my Quirk seems to have taken on some new attributes that weren't there before; like, do you remember how some people thought their Quirk was something completely different to what it actually was... Um, water manipulation was actually the ability to condense and transmute the oxygen in the air to be more like water due to the presence of more hydrogen atoms, stuff like that."

He paused. He had been rambling again. Lifting his head up from the desk, he saw Iida standing before him, nodding his head in complete understanding while the other 4… were still quite confused; Uraraka seemed to understand most of it, it was the whole science aspect of it that she seemed to lose attention on, he couldn't see Tooru but the fact that he doodling had slowly become more and more shaky until it was now just a selection of shaky lines had answered his questions, and Mina and Kirishima were looking at each other in morbid confusion, twirling their fingers around each other while looks of perplexing origin consumed their faces. It took a while before said pink skinned girl managed to speak again.

"Huh?"

"J-Just think of it as thinking your Quirk is water generation when its more… Water manipulation."

At this, everyone seemed to pick it back up once more.

"So then, what's this new, awesome Quirk of yours then?"

Kirishima had asked a very valid question. For all they knew, his powers were the exact same due to the common acceptance of mystery around Izuku's original strength enhancement but now that was being thrown out the window by the user themselves so… What was it?

It was here where Izuku began to fret. He didn't have a cover story ready for this; before, when he just had the base Quirk of One for All it was quite easy to cover it up as being a separate strength Quirk due to the complete variation in appearance whenever he and All Might unleashed an attack (this was now due to their side-effects but he had not known this at the time) and even now, it was actually very simple to cover up, All Might could not use pain inflicted onto him to power up his attacks after all. It was just the fact that he had to come up with the cover-up in such a short amount of time.

"W-Well, um, before i-it was just a simple strength enhancement Quirk, a mass collection of power that I was able to summon at will with the side effect of the uncontrollable nature being the damage I received after the fact. Now though… N-Now it's more of my body attack itself in order to build up energy, damaging my nerves and receptors for a short amount of time with the energy given off from the start of my Quirk, when my skin starts to get hot. Then, that pain generates more energy than at the initial activation, as pain it what brings about the energy required for the output, and so I can use it in a punch in my arms or I can use it in my legs to travel really long distances quickly at the cost of breaking the bones or tissue in the area that the Quirk is used in. Fortunately though, the energy also activates a larger amounts of blood cells which clot the skin wounds and heal them at a much faster rate, while my bones are helped by an influx in chondroblasts which heal them faster."

Glancing up from his rambling, he hoped that he had explained it to a degree to not only convince them all of his Quirk. What he received in turn were stares that made him question if he was even speaking English; even Iida looked slightly confused.

"I-In retrospect, my body requires pain as a stimulus to generate mass amounts of energy that fuel my body before releasing addition cells to help with recovery for a short time afterwards."

"Ooooooh."

Sighing. Izuku thought that he was free before he was leapt at by Kirishima, the Hardening Hero visibly in we at the newest discovery presented to him by the green haired teen.

"Woah! That is so cool! You have to hurt yourself in order to use your Quirk?! That is so manly!"

Clapping Izuku on the back with a wide and toothy grin, the Inheritor couldn't help but replicate it.

"It's also really stupid and really dangerous."

Glancing ahead of him and away from the spikey haired teen, Izuku let out a small sigh at the sight of Uraraka. Her eyes were filled with fury and anger, laced with bouts of annoyance and confusion but the words that managed to roll off her tongue contained no malice and no hate, only care and comfort. All-in-all, it was a very confusing picture that, while settling the picture of a distraught and perplexed girl in the teen's mind, also made him contemplate his own situation; he had made her feel all these things, made her do this because of his messed-up Quirk. Looking her in her eye, Izuku was about to speak up when a loud cough and the hard tapping of shoes filled the air.

"Now that's all fine and dandy, right? But please indulge dear Izuku… What the Hell do you need with this thing then?"

Practically skipping towards the group (who had unanimously decided to congregate around the Izuku's desk for whatever reason), Mina was accompanied by the faint sound of hollow metal as she moved. Following the noise to its origin, Izuku suddenly found his skin growing hot in embarrassment and under the heated glare of a certain Gravity Girl, her entire form somehow being consumed in a comforting rage as the pink skinned girl near them; in her hand, Mina was carrying his mechanical limb, his device, his… Scar-Suit. Sucking in a breath at the badly worded and really bad name, the teen looked at it as the handle jingled and shook around, clashing with the metallic frame of the device as it did and creating the ominous noise emanating from the girl's grasp.

When she got near enough, she placed the spindly frame on the desk, wiping off her hands on her skirt before placing them on her hips and turning to Izuku with a look of playful terror in her eyes, knowing what this would mean for him purely from the look on his face.

"Go on then, what's this thingy-magij do for your Quirk?"

Staring down at the mechanical structure, Izuku relented as he picked it up.

"So, when I was explaining my Quirk, I told you all that my body needed pain to act as a stimulus for my Quirk, that it allowed the release of energy which would then be used in my limbs as a source of power. I also explained that this stimulus can come from my own body, with a sort of precursor energy activating alongside it to provide pain initially so that the after effects and the primary source of energy can be used. However, at this point I-I don't know if that will do anything long term; I don't know if it'll damage me internally, even with the additional cells helping the recovery, or if it might damage me mentally… Think of this source of Quirk activation as what happened at the Yuuei Games, during my fight with Todoroki and how I sort of lost it."

Gazing up at his impromptu audience to make sure that they were still following, he was met with a few small nods from Kirishima and Iida, showing that they were at least following this part of the explanation but Mina and Uraraka reacted differently; both appeared to be flustered at the mere mention of that fight, with said Southern girl gaining a thick coat of red dusting her entire form as she avoided eye-contact with his entire person while Mina was staring straight at him, lost in a swirl of lilac as she just lost herself to whatever she was thinking. Whatever had them up in arms, he couldn't tell, so Izuku just continued his talk.

"A-Anyways, the source that activates my Quirk can also be external rather than internal, meaning that my body doesn't potential suffer any psychological or internal damage that I am completely unaware of. Instead, if I am able to deal a significant amount of damage to myself with something on the outsider like a knife or just sheer damage to my body, I am able to use my Quirk. This is just a rough proto-type that I was testing out; the spines on the sides they… Um, stab my skin just enough to generate the energy needed to use my Quirk without seriously damaging my body. At the minute, it's the safest thing to do."

Glancing down at the skeleton before him, Izuku began to outline it and look upon how it could be altered. Even in its short time of use, the metal coating had to scratch off, revealing the twisting frame below it in all of its rustic glory, while patches of dried crimson dotted the length of the appendage, complementing the dull sheen of silver that lay across it. In a way, it mirrored how Izuku's own life and attitude was panning out; he had only acquired Adrenaline a short time ago and it had changed his future and his mindset exponentially, made him feel more alive and freer then ever while still chaining him to a harmful ideology that he knew was bad for him.

This power that lay dormant inside of him had heightened his desire for being a Hero, his want and strife for becoming someone of such a high calibre that it only managed to push him past all of his Quirk's downsides; he could fight through the pain if it meant it could give back to everyone in his life, to All Might for giving him his Quirk, to his Mom for supporting him and helping him all his life, to his friends for being there and pushing him to rise above it all and he could do all of that with his own power, with some that kept true to the value of All Might while still giving him a personal touch and patch of freedom. However, at the same time, it bought forth all of those thoughts from earlier, about how it made him unfit to have the mantle of the Symbol of Peace. At this point, Izuku couldn't tell if he was over-reacting to this and just worrying over nothing or if this was a genuine concern, with his Quirk being in its infancy he was unable to gauge how others would view it, but it was a concern that had trapped Izuku in a vice-like grip of worry that he just couldn't shake. Adrenaline truly was a double-edged sword, no doubt about it.

"Are you sure that this is the safest option Izuku? I mean, I don't want to be rude or anything, but looking at your arms I'm not so sure."

Hearing a soft, sweet voice by his ear accompanied by light breaths hitting the shell of his ear made the teen recoil in shock before figuring out that Tooru had moved from her position from the blackboard, instead coming over to listen to his mumbling about his Quirk. At the same time, she was softly running her invisible hand down his arm, smoothing over his bandages and the wounds inflicted by his Quirk in a calm, comforting manner that allowed him to understand her feelings. Didn't mean he wasn't embarrassed and nervous at the thought of having any kind of girl this close to him.

"A-At this stage, y-yeah. I may h-have to be use bandages a lot, b-but compared to what the fight against T-Todoroki did to me… This truly is the best option."

Without thinking, his scarred and damaged fingers crept up to the back of his skull, contorting and stretching around the cracks and fragmentations that lay there as a result of the fight; and the foolish actions he performed while under Adrenaline's influence. Suddenly, his thought process was interrupted when a heavy hand hit his shoulder and forced him out of his head. Slowly turning his gaze up to the where the impact came from, Izuku's brow soon became furrowed at the sight of Iida, his eyes turned to the ground.

"Iida?"

"Izuku I… I think that you should reconsider using your Quirk in this manner."

Looking ahead at his friend quizzically, he soon found that the stares of everyone else in the room followed to the tall Hero-in-training.

"What'd you mean, man? He just explained that he can't really use it without riskin' himself."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Kirishima began to lean against the desk in front of Izuku's, offering Iida his own perplexed view on the matter, unable to figure out why the teen would want to stop Izuku from using his Quirk.

"I only mean that he should try and manoeuvre around this aspect of his Quirk and use it like he used to."

"You mean using it to the point where it… Broke his bones? You sure about that Iida?"

"That is not what I am insinuating. Only that- "

Next up was Mina, offering her own point on the situation, providing a flaw to their speedster friend and his way of thinking. As she was talking, Izuku was just thinking. Why would Iida be so against this idea? He had seen how he acted with his Quirk before, so him hurting himself wasn't a new topic… Maybe it was the idea of prolonged exposure to pain would change him? That he wouldn't want to improve or better guarantee his own safety due to the power it offered him? No, it wasn't that. Glancing down at his damaged hands on the desk, he turned it so the palm was tilted towards him; there was another layer to this.

Biting his lip, his eyes turned upwards to meet Uraraka's the girl just as confused as he was; it was to the point where her anger and fury had subsided, replaced by complete confusion. Staring at her, Izuku began to think about what could have happened in the last few weeks that… Could have…

He understood.

"This is about your brother… Isn't it?"

All conversations ceased existence as soon as Izuku spoke up. Everyone turned their eyes towards him but the teen was only focused on Iida and his reaction. He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a heavy sigh and turning towards his friend with a heavy expression in his eyes.

"I saw Tensei's body Izuku. It was broken and beat up, so bloody that it made me want to gag. That was my brother, that was the Pro-Hero Igenium right there, destroyed in a matter of seconds. To me, that is what you are proposing we let happen to you; that we stand by and let you destroy yourself for the sheer purpose of being a Hero."

Subconsiouly, Izuku squinted his eyes.

"Stand by? No, Iida, I just wanted to tell you why I need this device and anything like it in the future. T-Tomorrow, I'm meeting up with Mei again so that we can work on costume ideas to better get my Quirk under control. If you want to talk to me about anything do it, but you know that I can't just stop being a Hero."

"It is that determination that scares me. My brother was the same way; he wanted to help everyone no matter the cost, be a great Hero that made people smile no matter the cost… Just like you. And after everything that has happened with this Hero Killer, I'm scared that one day I will be back in that hospital, looking at you in that hospital bed, all because of your own Quirk."

This type of care and comfort had rarely been directed at Izuku so at the minute, he felt overwhelmed. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't argue his point. Iida was trying to have him stop using this part of his Quirk, the part that he felt so conflicted about, for his own sake. Yes, it was so that he and others wouldn't see Izuku beaten and battered but that was their job as Heores, to take the damage that others couldn't. In an act of selfishness, the Quirk Inheritor shot back at Iida.

"Iida, t-thank you so much for you concern but you have to understand that this is all I've ever wanted. As Heroes, we have to be ready to put our lives on the line for other people and even if I have to put myself at risk to even use my Quirk, that is worth it if I'm able to save one person. My Quirk, while not invincible, can help me bounce back from any damage I receive; I understand not to over use it and rely too much on it but, it will help me. I-I'm not trying to be insensitive here Iida, I really am and it's out of respect for you and your brother, but I am not Igenium."

The room seemed to freeze over slightly as Izuku spoke those last 3 words. It may have sounded harsh, especially coming out of someone like Izuku, but it was something that needed to be said. Locking eyes for a few seconds, Iida's soon dropped. Then, he slung his bag around his shoulder and began to make his way to the door but before he did, he managed to say one thing.

"Neither am I, Izuku. Neither am I."

Watching him about to leave, the teen tried to stand up, to get Iida back here to talk instead of just letting him leave and wallow. He was stopped by an invisible force however, as Tooru pulled him back in the same soft, calm manner that she had spoken to him with earlier. It was quite a departure from her bubbly, over-the-top-self but something told Izuku that this was more real than that was. Despite not being able to see her, the boy turned around to where he face would be and looked there with peril and regret in his eye.

"Let him go for now Izu, he just needs this time to think. He'll be fine soon but for now, just let him be."

Too engrossed in worry for his friend to notice the new nickname applied to him, Izuku just nodded and returned to his seat, head turned towards the wooden surface. Silence crept around the room for a few minutes before the loud beeping of a phone went off, alerting everyone to its presence. Kirishima was the source. Pulling out his phone, he looked through it quickly before sucking on his teeth.

"Damn. Listen, I've gotta bolt it but thanks for telling me Izuku, it helped me understand a little bit more. I'll be ready the next time we fight, got it?"

Smirking slightly at the challenge, the teen nodded at his red-haired friend, earning a wdie smile in return. Picking up his bag, Kirishima was about to leave but took one look at the group of four one last time before dashing out and jogging down the hallway to leave. Now that he thought about it, Izuku realised that they had been here for some time, with pretty much everyone else in the building having already left. He was distracted for some time before being coaxed back in by a cough right in front of him.

"So then… Izuku…"

Looking up, the green haired boy could audibly hear himself gulp at the glare he received in return, the intensity of which seemed to set the very room on fire. Uraraka was standing there, cross armed and a pout adorning her face as she stared him down. She may have been trying to be more aggressive, seem angry and annoyed at what he just said but instead he could just focus in on how her brow twitched alongside her mouth as she tried to remain stoic; to be honest, Izuku found it quite cute.

"Uraraka… I can't just give up because of what my Quirk is. Yes, it is dangerous and yes, I understand the risks that it entails but I want to be a Hero and now I can be; I told you I was a late bloomer so I haven't had the 10 plus years all of you have had to train and get accustom to it. No. I have to work harder to make sure that I don't lose control and end up hurting someone else with it, to make sure that whoever I save can be comfortable if I come to help them… Work harder to make everyone proud."

Gazing back down towards his desk, Izuku could hear the sigh that emanated from Uraraka's mouth. Too scared of the reality of the situation, of having his dream rejected again like it had been so many times before, he didn't even look up from his desk, the desk which housed his beaten, bloody hands; they sat comfortably under bandages and curls of linen, hiding them away from the rest of the world and even though he was unsure of his purpose, unsure of whether he could become the Symbol of Peace in this state, he was sure that he would try his damn near hardest to make that dream possible and no longer have it squandered and shot down by those around him. Now, he would live for his own dream.

Quietly, he heard the faint tapping of shoes across the wooden classroom floor until they stopped in front of his desk and he watched in content and confused silence as the table bent slightly under the unexpected weight of another person; of Uraraka. Glancing up to meet her, he saw a comforting softness to her face which hadn't been there for some time. Calmly the girl began to move her tiny hand towards his, the size of his dwarfing hers, until she clasped her shut around his flesh. Undeterred by his confusion, she resumed running her fingers up and down the warm piece of linen.

"Iz- No, Deku. I can't promise that I know how you feel, and I can't say that I completely support this silly mindset of yours… But the way you smiled just now, when you talked about your dream, it made me realise that I can't say that I hate the idea or say that I should be angry at you for your decision because I cannot bring myself to be any of those things."

Leaning forward, she took more of his hand into hers and began to wordlessly undo the bandages, letting them drop to the desk with a soft thud. Then, the Southern girl pulled and pushed the cat-like pads on her fingers across his numerous scars and scratches with reckless abandon.

"We care for you Deku… You need to remember that. We care for you so much that when we saw you jump into action today, when we heard you scream and shout, our hearts began to beat like crazy, and we didn't know if you were really alright or not. We… I was so scared for you."

Pulling herself closer, she enveloped Izuku's top half in a tight hug, holding him closer to her chest while he froze, scarlet coating his entire form.

"Please just be careful, okay?"

"Y-Yea, s-sure."

In the few seconds that she was holding him, Izuku could feel all the care and warmth that Uraraka felt towards him; it was like nothing else he had ever felt, he had never truly felt that much attention and worry for him from someone that wasn't his Mother and that in itself, was enough to make him emotional. But it was more than that. It was that she was able to show this to him without speaking it, she could and it would work but she didn't have to. No, Uraraka could do it, make him feel like this without words and that meant so much to him.

"Alright Love Birds, let's get moving or Aizawa will chew us out for being here so long after school hours."

Shooting away from each other, Izuku and Uraraka grow grew thick red blushes on both of their faces as they turned to see Mina's wide and sly grin adorning her pink face. Alongside her, Tooru's clothes swayed and moved in spirals to show her impatient attitude as her bag, covered in colours and different stickers, swung around with her. Sighing, Izuku pushed himself away from his desk and grabbed his small yellow bag while Uraraka moved to grab her own bag. Offering each other one final smile, the two turned to their friends with an expected gaze.

"Well?"

"Hm? Oh yea! Do you mind if we walk with you guys? We sort of got ditched talking to you guys."

Tooru replied, the same bubbly tone present in her voice. It made Izuku pause. Now that he had been exposed to that softer, calmer side of her, this happier, over-the-top personality just seemed sort of… Off. It seemed more unnatural, something made-up but to be honest, he didn't know the girl enough to take that guess to heart so just let her be for the minute.

"S-Sorry about that."

"Ah don't worry Muscles. Anyway, you owe us now so you basically have to let us walk with you."

Sticking her tongue out at the boy, Izuku couldn't help but sigh at Mina's interactions with him. Didn't stop him from turning a shade of brighter red though. Didn't help when Uraraka got involved.

"Damn! She's really got us here Izuku! Blackmail it is!"

"C-Can we just go please?"

[imperfectpersoninabrokenwor-blog]

More Heart, Less Attack

Be the light in the cracks Be the one that's mending the camel's back Slow to anger and quick to laugh Be more heart and less attack

On my walk to work yesterday, I listened through Needtobreathe’s Rivers in the Wasteland album (such a great album by the way, you should definitely check it out). The lyrics listed above are from a song entitled More Heart, Less Attack, which, as you can see, I decided to name this post after.

Anyway, I have been going through a lot over the years, so this post may be kinda long. I’ve been selfish for a long time. I have struggled with my depression, anxiety, the desire to be liked, to be popular. Because of my struggles with those things, I became so wrapped up in myself, and worried about filling my own needs, that I became so blind to the needs of the people in my life, my family, and my friends. And I have paid the price for my selfishness. I have lost some of the people I held most dear, because of my actions and selfishness. I became so afraid of my friends leaving, of being left alone in this world, that I held on so tightly to the few people I felt I had, and didn’t let them breathe. In my fear of being abandoned by my loved ones, I was the one that drove them away. And the last few weeks, I have felt incredible shame, unending grief, guilt, guilt, and sadness, and disgust at the person I let myself become. I have bawled like a baby each day for weeks, at the thought of how I failed my friends, how I let them down and failed to be the brother they deserve. I have prayed, begging God to forgive me, begging for the friends that left to forgive me, and praying that I could forgive myself, something I don’t know I’ll ever be able to do. So much pain, emotion, and weight has been on my heart lately, and I wanted to be vulnerable with you and share my failings with you.

Despite the immense pain and heartbreak I have felt, I have felt an awakening in my heart, as I have been trying to lean on God through all of this. I have been begging Him for healing, for reconciliation with the people I’ve lost, and for the chance to be redeemed in His sight and the eyes of my friends. Though I am still going through this great pain, I’ve had this feeling of hope that just won’t go away. Through the many hears, I feel like God is speaking to me, assuring me that healing, and reconciliation WILL happen soon, and that has been what has been keeping me going through the pain. I never intended to hurt the people in my life, and I care so much still about the people that have left, but I have felt that God has been calling me to humble myself, to put away the stubbornness and selfishness that has cost me some very dear friends, and come to them and repent and seek forgiveness for my actions. But I am still scared of what will come of it. I am terrified that the people I love won’t be able to forgive me, or accept me back. I’m terrified of being shut out of their lives forever, even though I’d deserve it for my selfish attitude and actions over the years. I keep saying I don’t deserve the kindness and the grace that I’m asking for, but I guess that’s the point of grace, right? None of us truly deserve it. We all deserve death for our sins. I know I do. I was reading the book of Matthew last night, and came across Matthew 11:28-30 which says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” And I thought about how relevant that is in my life right now. I have felt drained emotionally the last few weeks, just wanting relief and rest from the agonizing pain and guilt I have been dealing with. I’ve been praying for God to restore my heart, and the hearts and lives and trust of people that I have caused so much pain to. And though I haven’t found it yet, I feel that rest is coming.

I spent some time talking about my past actions, now I want to talk about my future ones. This has been on my heart for the last week, and I came across it while reading Matthew again last night. Matthew 11:1-6 says, “After Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and preach in the towns of Galilee. When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

Let me repeat that last part again: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.

I read that last night, and I about cried again because that is exactly what I want God to do in my life. I want to see people raised from the dead, and I want to see those who have been spiritually dead, like myself, be made new through Christ Jesus. I want to see the sick healed, I want to see the hopeless be given new life through Jesus. I want the the poor and destitute to know that there is hope, that there is life giving water, a spring that will NEVER run dry through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. I want healing to take place in my life, and the lives of friends new and old. More than anything, right now, I want to see and feel the joy of sweet reconciliation, of dead and broken friendships coming back to life in my life and the lives of others. I want to see and hear God given the glory through the restoring of lost friendships, as well as everything else, and I want God to use me to accomplish those things, and so much more.

I struggled with giving grace to the people in my life. I have used my words and actions to cut people down, to hurt them, to strike at their very heart, and to feed my own selfish desires, and I wish every day of my life that I could take every harsh word back. As a result of those actions, a lot of people I’ve known and loved don’t even want to talk to me or have anything to do with my life, and I deserve that. But God has been working on my heart in that respect as well. I follow a guy named Craig Groeschel on Twitter. He is a pastor, and he has had some very good tweets on how we should use our speech that I wanted to share with you.

Coincidentally, I also come across this section about speech when I went through my bible the other day.

I know that in the past my words, actions, and desires were influenced by Satan, and the last few weeks I’ve had to come to grips with my failures that have caused me so much heartbreak. And that person is not who I want to be anymore.

I want to be someone who God uses to speak life and love to the both the friends and strangers in my life. I want my words and speech to be like the life giving water that draws others closer to Jesus. I want my speech to be full of compassion for the hurting, understand and consideration for the busy and overwhelmed. I want God to use my words to bring hope to those who have none, to build people up when they feel worthless or alone, to let people know that they are so tremendously loved by God, that he sent his son Jesus to die for us so that we might be able to spend eternity with God. I want to live as God’s mouthpiece, as his hands and feet working on this Earth. I certainly don’t want to live in my own world of anger, hatred, jealousy, bitterness, and loneliness that I have been living in.

I know this was a lot to read and take in, but if you’ve made it this far, I so appreciate you caring enough to give me some of your time today. As of now, I’m in the business of life giving, and I’d love to hear from you just how I can love you in the best way you feel possible.

And for the people I’ve hurt, the people that I drove away, the people who left because of my selfish actions, I hope you can now of very truly sorry I am. I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. And I hope you can dig down deep, and find it in your heart to extend the beautiful, sweet, undeserved grace that God has for us. I humble myself before you, begging at your feet, for the chance to give God glory through the healing and restoration of a broken friendship, as well as the chance to show you and prove to you the fruits of my new life.

Keep me near in your hearts today, friends. But more importantly, keep the people I’ve caused pain in your hearts today, and please pray that a once miserable, spiritually dead, lonely person like my self, could be made new through Jesus, and that restoration, healing, and reconciliation could be possible.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I'm found, Was blind, but now I see.

All the best,

Michael

[theintuitivewildflower]

What's it like to be an empath?

Empathy is the ability to put yourself in ones shoes. Being an empath is like you are actually in that persons shoes; feeling their sorrow, hurt, anger, pain or even an illness or injury. It can be very overwhelming and it’s often difficult to decipher whose feelings you are feeling; yours or someone elses. Empaths are born givers, accidental counselors; people open up to us and we love to be that shoulder people can lean on. The empath who does not know they are an empath will often feel stressed, drained, tired but not sleepy, always thinking, always feeling. Our blessing and curse is that we can read between the lines. We hear what you don’t say. And sometimes, to be frank that stuff you don’t say, hurts like hell. We get really upset when people lie to us because we feel it and it hurts that you don’t feel you can be truthful with us because we truly just want to love you as a person and help where we can! More importantly, you don't have to lie to the empath. Nine times out if ten we already know the truth. We can handle the cold hard truth every time. The unnecessary lie is what gets us most riled up when we get feisty with you. I truly believe many empaths have been misdiagnosed with anxiety, ocd, adhd and other mental health disorders. Therefore, many are numbed or no longer sensitive to the sensory feelings empaths have. Numb to what could be a great asset in your life. Numb to what is real and your truth. The newly discovered empath, which was me almost one year ago; will struggle with absorbing every energy emitted from anyone who passes by and sometimes even from a distance. I now fully understand why stepping foot into Wal-Mart is like an intense emotional episode of survivor; an emotional obstacle course in which you hope to get in and out without bringing home some strangers stress or baggage. The struggle is real for the empath. Ignoring the fact that you are an empath won’t help. You will continue to pick up and absorb without recognizing which feelings are your own. The empath that begins to learn what it means to feel everything so deeply can then learn to block negative feelings, even reciprocate with kinder energy. There are also grounding or shielding techniques that can help empaths cleanse away any negative energy they are carrying around that doesn’t belong to them. The undiscovered empath can fall prey to people with personality disorders such as; narcissists, sociopaths or psychopaths. These types of personalities gravitate toward, even seek out empaths or sensitive people. Here the empath can get lost in a heap of feelings that are not their own. They are later punished for being sensitive and often called crazy or bi-polar by these types after the initial grooming period in which all is bliss and the sensitivity is loved and appreciated. Later though, a narcissist for example will use that against the empath as a weakness. I personally discovered that i was an empath shortly after ending a relationship with someone who had a personality disorder. He had convinced me that I alone had issues, that i needed help, i was crazy or that i was too sensitive. So here i was researching what he’d diagnosed me as and i came across his disorder and in turn information about the magnetic pull between our two personalities.

There I was at age 39 divorced and now picking up the pieces following a toxic relationship. Now though, it all made sense . He and I could sit side by side and I could feel lonelier than ever before. I remember many times being overcome with such sadness or overwhelming pain that I would begin to cry. He would ask hatefully “what the heck is wrong with you” or get angry because he never approved of anyone having feelings unless they were his own. Knowing what i know now, I was feeling his feelings; the guilt, the stress, the fear, the anger ,many of his feelings were valid and justified but they were his feelings not mine. He was holding them in, letting them eat away at his soul, remaining numb while i absorbed every last drop of it into my own soul . My goodness, I cant imagine how differently we could have communicated if I had known I was an empath earlier on in that relationship, or even sooner in my marriage; better yet in my childhood or teen years. Middle and high school would have certainly been easier to get through had i known myself. It all makes such sense now, why i was always mediator, peacemaker or counselor to my adolescent hormone driven friends. I most certainly could have dealt with my narcissistic mother-in-law differently , my toxic relationship following the divorce surely wouldn’t have lasted as long and i could have understood why my job as a property manager was such an unbelievable mind fuck for nearly six years. I was carrying around a whole lot of other people’s baggage, for decades now. At age 40, for my birthday in fact, i took a girls trip to Denver with one high school friend to go see another high school friend. We had such a good time catching up, sight-seeing and laughing. I did not return to Missouri the same. Something clicked in me and I began to harness the power within me that was a result ,not of being an empath but from the trials, tribulations, choices, struggles, lessons and heartache I had experienced up to this point. Every job I had held prepared me for the next one. Every heart break prepared me to love better and kinder the next time. Each struggle and tear gave me wisdom and taught me lessons. The biggest lesson I have learned thus far is that it is okay to feel. It is ok to love. It is okay to give. We just cannit do these things to our own detrimate. Nothing will make sense or satisfy us really until we know ourselves and face our own demons. We then can begin to have belief in the strength and wisdom we have gained thus far and share it with someone else who is open minded enough to look within for answers. It is then that you will realize that you held the answers within yourself all along. You do have the strength and wisdom to fight for who you are. If you are feeling trapped or hopeless keep the faith. There is light at the end of the tunnel even if you can’t see it yet. I studied and followed the no contact rule to move on from that toxic relationship. He got a new supply for his ego in the meantime. We both seem to have moved on living in the same small town where it all began and ended. We both have done massive work on ourselves to face our demons. We’ve even been able to communicate occasionally as friends. Lastly, this wasn’t a blog post dedicated to bashing my ex or any man. In fact, I now have the upmost respect for him because he went to work on himself too and i respect anyone that will do that because it is hard work and its painful. He taught me to be strong. He also taught me that its ok not to be friendly with people that aren’t your friends. He taught me about people with motives to use people and how to keep friends and associates in the proper category, not to confuse tbe two and not to get “carried fast” by people out to use me. I also taught him a few things as well. We chose to grow from the pain. That is what wildflowers do. We bloom where we’re planted, we grow, we spread seed so others can grow if they want to. Whether you are an empath or you’re dealing with anxiety, depression or grief don’t beat yourself up about it. First, check to confirm that you aren’t just surrounded by assholes. Pay attention to your vibe, your gut instinct, your intuition. Everytime you obey it the frequency your intuition runs on gets stronger. Soon you will be proud to be an empath or proud to battling your demons. You will find great empowerment when you realize that you are capable of changing your life for the better everyday and you begin to do it. Small scary changes at first, then bigger more important and even scarier ones later. When you worked on yourself and did not remain complacent and afraid to feel emotions, guess what? You grew!! Good for you! Now let’s keep going, gain momentum and grow some more. If you choose to see a lesson instead of a loss you always win; you grow. I got a somewhat happy ending to a very dark time in my life, a valley. For months into over a year I rode that wave of celebrating my new found gift and my growth. However, I never knew the true beauty of it until i found myself in another dark valley of life recently. What is different this time? I am. I am prepared to fight for who i am and what I’ve become. It truly is in the darkest loneliest moments that we find our strength. I thank you for reading this piece. Please like and share with anyone who might relate. Empaths who don’t know it yet can become riddled with fear or anxiety. This information sounds crazy to the common person. However, for me, it was life changing. If you know someone this information remind​s you of please share it. Listen to what your gut says and then take action. You may be dating an empath. Let me tell you, they aren’t crazy they are a gift from God and they love you unconditionally even when they seem heavily burdened with worry they still love. If all we need is love then having an empath as a friend is a major blessing to be thankful for. ONE LOVE FROM THE INTUITIVE WILDFLOWER More information about the traits of an empath and the narcissist are posted on my facebook page : Where the wildflowers grow @ theintuitivewildflower