#is he expected to accept this fate? to let it become background noise? would anything come out of it if he tried to fight it?

[mintflavoredfemurs]

Idk just thinking about Killer and his acknowledgment of Nightmare but also his acknowledgment of the fourth wall/player but also his personality disorder with Chara and Sans in the reigns of his mind and Oh God !!

Killer belongs to Rahafwabas

[ohheyitsokay]

nicknames

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x reader

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: none to my knowledge, just a silly thought I strung out

Summary: the things we call each other are an intimate look into how we regard them

>>

“Why do you call him Mandalorian?” Cara was never subtle with you. You had been friends with her for years, and you should’ve known she would notice something after only a few days of your traveling with the three of them.

Shrugging, you looked at her. “I never told you?” You’d completed a lot of tasks together, as a very well balanced pair. And honestly you’d become close quickly, so it surprised you that she didn’t know you inside and out yet.

“I just feel like nicknames are too affectionate. On my home planet they're…” you searched for the word, not wanting to offend her, “intimate? Soft, maybe?”

Cara's dark eyebrows drew together.

“Mando… it sounds like a word some use for ‘dumpling',” you laughed, and her confusion broke - she grinned at you. “Mandu,” you offered, trying to explain. The words were similar under your tongue, thus the core of your problem.

“I cannot walk around professionally and call a warrior I just met dumpling.” And she nodded, laughing along with you.

It was too ridiculous, too cute, and far too intimate. Even without the double meaning, you didn’t want to be overly familiar with the Mandalorian. After all, you would only be traveling with him a few more days, and you’d hardly talked.

The mission went smoothly, however, and you were surprised to find that they offered for you to continue to team up with them. Another set of skills was welcome, and another pair of eyes on the little child was even more so. Your resolve stuck, though. It just didn’t fit, to call him anything other than the title he had given you. And you liked him a bit too much to open that door for yourself.

-

Din Djarin knew there was something special about you from the very beginning. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, at first, but certainly he had been very aware.

You were interesting, for someone in his field. Not at all the large, muscular fighter that he was used to seeing. But also not a seedy assassin. He’d learned quickly that your skill set came primarily in observation. You had no need to manhandle or shove your way to your bounty, instead choosing to melt into the background and watch until you’d identified the perfect strategy.

It made the first week of the job so much easier, he was content with the idea that you would travel and work with them. But then:

“How did you even know that corridor was there?” Cara was clearly excited by your field work, too. She was hardly paying attention as she walked through his ship into the cockpit.

Shoulders rising slightly, you followed her. “Micro-glitch in the holo-projection shield. I’m sure the Mandalorian's helmet identified it too.” You looked at him.

You looked right at him.

Effortlessly, your eyes found his through the visor. You were smiling a little bit, unaware of his state of shock.

Din had been wearing this helmet long enough to be used to never truly making eye contact with people. Sometimes a person got it right at random, but he could feel the difference – they couldn’t tell. But here you were, your gaze in his casually, like there wasn’t a solid layer between you.

He shrugged, reminding himself to get it together. As you turned back to Cara, he felt like he could breathe again.

Din had heard stories, children’s tales, of catching your soulmate’s eyes across the cantina - or maybe a palace room?, and being drawn together by fate. They were ridiculous, of course, but the very idea that you could bring up the memory was more than jarring.

Still, surely this was a one time thing, and he could forget about it.

For the first few weeks, it seemed like he was right. You rarely directed your gaze in his direction, anyway, being very professional and what he could only assume was shy.

You were more than happy to help with the child sometimes, and you talked freely to Cara, but in his presence you were polite and quiet. All your tasks were completed with efficiency and you would often complete other’s just because of who you were as a person. Normally, this was ideal for him - useless chatter had never been something he was good at. He was more than occupied making sure something was not breaking or mysteriously floating away, or they weren’t in danger. When you offered him silence, he should have been content to do the same, and watch the stars race by.

But… well, Din wasn’t sure he liked that either. Certainly it was strange to feel seen by you, but it felt worse that he could be making you uncomfortable, particularly as his comrade. And the more and more your eyes met his, the more it became exciting, and if maybe he wanted you to be even more than that.

So how could he get more if you hardly ever talked to him? Din shook himself, feeling silly for having zoned out in these thoughts. After all, he didn’t really talk to you, either.

-

After two months traveling with this strange little group, you were more than settled.

It took no time at all: you had hung up a spare scrap of fabric and made a little room for yourself, and the team functioned like a well oiled machine.

You got up before anyone else, this particular day, and were happy to enjoy the quiet sounds of the Crest as you checked everything needed for the day.

“Good morning, Mandalorian,” you heard the weight of his footsteps through the quiet halls. You didn’t even need to turn around, focused on correcting the flight pattern of the ship.

He had not questioned the use of the full title, had hardly questioned you at all. Outside missions, you two had only had a couple of actual conversations which seemed at first to be just fine. But there was a small nagging in the corner of your mind. His armor and helmet made reading his behavior hard, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off between you two. His body language was … almost gentle with you, not the same as he was with the little one, but as if he was afraid you’d startle if he wasn’t.

Unbeknownst to you, he had grown to like the way you said Mandalorian. It rolled off your tongue, as if it really was his name, as if you liked to say it. Din had been increasingly nervous about making you feel uncomfortable, awkward in his efforts to learn about you enough to make you stay. The prospect of sharing pieces of himself with you had become an indulgent fantasy, if only he could figure out how to talk to you.

“Good morning,” you could hear the sleep at the edges of his voice, and the softness you’d learned to recognize.

You hummed for a moment, thinking, before adding, “Good morning too you, too, little one.”  You were rewarded with a sleepy little noise, and you smiled as you finished your task before turning towards them both. Thank goodness the child was awake, and you hadn’t caused any problems. His wide eyes were staring at you from above his father's armored forearm, and you smiled. It was these moments you were reminded of mandu – he was being soft.

You looked up to the Mandalorian, half wanting to tell him, but he stiffened: his shoulders rising and back straightening. Biting your lip, you averted your gaze.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” you turned back towards the stars, letting him think in silence for a moment.

“No,” he said, and you both relaxed. Whatever it was between you was gone for now, and you sat together, listening to the child wake up fully and begin to babble. It occurred to you that maybe he relished these moments, the times in which there were no expectations weighing on his shoulders. You wanted to give him more of those, if possible, to thank him for accepting you into his fold. Besides that, you spent much of your work life manipulating people, and you certainly wanted to establish that you weren’t like that here.

“How did you do that?” his voice, clearer now, interrupted your thoughts.

“Do what?” the Mandalorian rarely initiated conversation with you and it caught you off guard.

“How do you know what… is happening? What is going to happen?” he tone was genuinely curious, and you had to think before you responded. Of course, he knew you mostly just took the time to be more observant, instead of throwing yourself in head first. That’s not what he was asking.

“People are the same wherever you go. The more you watch and the closer you listen, the easier they are to predict,” you said, trying to be both brief and candid. “I was almost no one where I come from. One day, I decided instead of hating that, to use it.”

A small, deep, thoughtful hum came from the helmet beside you.

Silence settled over you for awhile before he quietly begin to talk.

Din told you of his people, his creed, and for the very first time you felt as though you were actually getting to know him. It was nice, not being professional.

“Do you ever want to be seen?” the conclusion of his talking was another surprise for you. Of course, this man who had sworn not to have his face shown would wonder at your apparent comfort with it.

The question felt as if it was seeping into your mind as you pondered it. It occured to you that this conversation had made you ache to be seen by him.

“I think everyone wants that, in their own way,” you said, and as you finally turned towards him, he held your gaze and nodded.

-

For someone so smart, it was infuriating how you seemed to completely miss the way he was around you.

Din Djarin, a warrior, had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to help him with a bandage on his lower back. The gentle touches and soft brush of your skin against his were foreign, but wonderful.

Unfortunately for him, you had noticed his awkwardness and assumed it was your fault. Ever the problem solver, you’d found a piece of mirror and rigged some wire to hold cleaning pads. It effectively made it easy for him to patch himself up on his own – and ruined the chance for him to steal your touch.

His previous fear had been wrong – you were not soulmates across the room, instead comrades sharing the same space. You were not exactly story royalty, but in spite of that, he was still falling hopelessly for you.

The way you talked to people – who weren’t bounties – with care and kindness. How good you were at your job, and how nice you made their shared space. How you laughed and rolled with the punches that came with this lifestyle. Din had never met anyone quite like you, and beyond all reason, he wanted to know everything about you, share all of himself with you. But you were so clever and polite it made him want to bang his head against a wall.

He couldn’t stop trying though, to get closer to you. Previously, you and Cara had left him and the child occasionally for a personal missions, and it left his feeling strange the entire three days. When you came back his heart had felt light and he wanted desperately to hold onto that feeling.

It wasn’t the same, when Cara went out for the afternoon a day or two after the patch up incident. In fact, he quite enjoyed the jolt of excitement that came with a whole few hours of potential.

Din couldn’t finish his tasks fast enough, even putting the child down for an early nap before nervously setting out to find you.

As expected, you were settled in the common area, reading through articles on your upcoming bounty. He sat next to you, willing himself not to betray his heart with his behavior and scare you away.

He said your name, his blood pumping even before you met his eyes.

“Yes, Mandalorian?” he had no idea why he was so nervous. He’d rehearsed this moment in his mind, it had been aching to be brought to life.

“You… you can call me Din… Djarin.”

It was not exactly as planned.

You’re eyes, ever in his, were wide.

“Din Djarin,” you said it reverently, before saying, “I promise I will keep it safe.”

He held back a small groan. There you went again, being so considerate he was afraid you’d never actually use it.

The frustration overwhelmed him, filling him with boldness and he pressed into your space insistently.

“No,” he said, “Well, do, but use it, please. I cannot stand you calling me Mandalorian like nothing has changed since we first met. I trust you, use it.”

You were adorable, the fear of his confession was damped by how intoxicating it was to be close to you. His hands found you, turning your body in your seat so you were facing him, and settling on the tops of your shoulders. He gently tugged you into him, encouraged that you didn’t pull away, but relaxed into his touch.

“I don’t want to slip,” you said, your voice barely audible.

The forehead of his helmet was so close to yours, you could feel your breath bouncing off of the mask.

“Please,” he said, and it smashed through all the walls you had created.

“Din Djarin,” you said again, tasting it on your tongue. You felt metal above your eyebrows and realized your eyes had closed, savoring the intimacy of the moment. You didn’t open them, allowing your heart to beat at lightspeed, and the tingles radiating from his gloved hands flow through you.

He was being soft with you.

“What if we compromised?” you could hear the smile in your own voice, and he gave a rumbling hum. You wondered if he was as absorbed in this moment as you were, unable to think straight.

“Mandu,” you murmured.

He was silent for awhile, the only indication he heard you being his palms, which slid to where your shoulders curved into your neck.

You could almost hear him thinking.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said, nearly inaudible. Your hands had reached out for him, one wrapping around the armor on his forearm, the other in the soft fabric on the side of his neck. He was distracted, bliss clouding his brain.

“Dumpling,” you said, and if it were anyone else, he would have thrown you across the room. “When you are being my strong and capable leader, you will be Mandalorian,” you continued, unaware that your words and actions were making his whole body fill with warmth and pride. “When you are being yourself, at home with us, I will call you Mandu – it sounds enough like Mando that no one will know it’s because you are truly soft.” He found himself smiling, despite his embarrassment. For you, he was soft. “And I will call you Din when it is just us, and I can be with you as you are now.”

There was no question that these moments would come again. He had made you give in to reading him completely, without any personal doubts.

“Okay, cyar’ika.”

<<

Taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[monsoonblooms12]

Eumoiriety (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Four Years of Pooja Sharma's Birthday, from her first year as an Intern to her first year as an Attending.

Eumoiriety: Happiness due to state of innocence and purity💕

A/N: It's my baby's birthday and I went overboard. This is purely self indulgent and since I have zero to negative self control, this turned out way longer than I expected it to. Anyway, I hope you still like it💙

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.7K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: None that I saw.

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge Day 29 - Birthday

READ ON AO3

Intern Year:

She walks barefoot on the green floor as the dews clinging to grass tips, soothe her like the cold breeze on a summer day.

A few golden rays filter through the canopy that acts as a barrier to the shining sun overhead. When they fall on the grass, the view looks like gold intermixed with emerald.

She wears a white gown, which flutters behind her, as her heart dances with the bees going flower to flower to get their prize of nectar in return for their favour of pollinating them.

There is a calm spreading through her soul, an ease, a slow infusion of tranquillity with her heart beats.

A swish makes her turn. Her eyes capture a silhouette, drifting farther and farther, as if taking her calm along with it.

It's replaced by restlessness.

There is a cajole, a whispered cajole, that urges her feet to run, her mind to think, her heart to wonder.

She follows. One step, and another.

The scene changes.

There are no more trees, no more green with the sun's shine.

At a distance, the waves crash on the sandy shore, their meet with their shore echoing in the silent surroundings.

She looks around and sees it.

The silhouette, now apparent that it was a man, standing with his back to her. He looks unbothered. As if he stole her peace and gave her his unrest in return.

She tries to walk slowly towards, footsteps imprinting on the sand, but the distance never seems to lessen or end.

She tries running, but to no avail.

The waves continue crashing, the footprints continue to get imprinted and the man continues to remain still and silent.

The only change has been in the sky, which is now leaden, dark with humongous clouds.

The thunder begins to cackle.

Once, Twice, Thrice.

She closes her ears with her hands, eyes shut to reduce the impact of the thunderous noise reverberating through every single one of her bones. But the roar keeps getting louder and louder until...

Her eyes snap open, but the echo from her sweven doesn't leave her. She turns around to find her phone ringing, straining her eyes with incredulous bright light (that she forgot to dim). The caller ID is barely registered, but the voice gives away the identity.

It's her sister.

With a flash, all the haze from the peculiar dream gets lost and bubbly happiness takes up the emptied space.

It's their birthday.

The first one since she came here. She had been so busy unknotting the twisted knots of circumstances in which she found herself tangled, that she had forgotten about the once unforgettable occasion of her life.

Maybe she has really lost that childhood she held on so tightly to, she thinks.

But not without a hope. Of a chance to get it back.

Maybe differently.

But the want to relive those carefree days, where the colour of pens you get as gifts, and the decision of who gets the piece of cake with the chocolate masterpiece on it were the only things that held importance. All other worldly, societal woes were secondary, trivial, uncared for.

She wishes her sister and she wishes her back.

3..2..1.. Happy Birthday! To Us!

They scream-whisper together, carrying on the years' long tradition.

The only thing different? They were on their cellulars, ecospheres apart, instead of snuggling and shouting together, and annoying their brother for an entire day.

Subconsciously, a tee-hee escapes her. Thinking about her brother, she takes a look at the clock. Correct 12:03 am on 12th August. If she knows him, he is probably counting the seconds.

At 12:05 am to the dot, another shrill echoes through the silent apartment. Her guess is correct.

On the other side of the screen, sits Idhayan arranging the cake so that Pooja can see the eloquent buttercream designs he has hand made on it.

In the background, there is a blurry motion. It turns out to be Alekhya.

She jumps onto the couch beside their brother, putting an end to his steady concentration.

He makes an irritated face, while she laughs.

And Pooja just watches, giggling alone.

The pang in her chest reminds her, once & once more, about just how much she misses them.

How empty, monochromatic her life is, with all these miles between them.

For the past year, every time any event took a turn for the worse, broke her, or hurt her, she wanted to go back to her safe haven.

The place where the chronicles of her life begun.

Many times, she had found herself convinced (by others as well as her self doubting mind) that she didn't belong here. That she didn't have the calibre, the skills to strive in this fight of dogs, in this race of horses where she felt like a donkey.

Or maybe a snail.

She dreamed of sleeping in her mother's lap when she first found herself in the crossroads of feelings and reason. Making her muddled head clear with words that never crossed the barrier between dream and reality.

When Mrs Martinez died, she imagined herself sitting on the swing, her brother's comfort brownies reduced to messy crumbs, as she let the mountain winds take away the burden of dread that pressed upon her heart.

And the day when Landry's backstab became eminent? She visualized her sister ripping him down, shredding him with knives of words because that's what he deserved.

She knew her father would have made them both coffee like he always did when he came home during breaks from piloting. He would have said a mere few words, which would have been enough for her to see the path ahead.

The mini virtual celebration ends, and the silence settles again. Tendrils of sleep come and go, but never stay.

She is left alone with her thoughts and worries, and a fear of the unknown which is hidden by the curtains of the future.

--------

The day passes like a swift blowing wind in a desert.

It's quiet, too quiet.

And probably for the first time in her life, she adores it. To be away from the hustle of a celebration, which would have been a noise in the cacophony, given the situation.

To get a period of silence for her thoughts to drift away, to think about the unknown, to predict a make or break.

The pages are turned swiftly by her fingers, one of which is clad with a minimal gold ring, another old ritual of hers.

The library harbours the overworked interns, who are now pushing the boundaries of time to find a way to help their friend out.

Their tired eyes pain with the lack of sleep, coffee fuelling through their veins, and mind engrossed in picking up any clue, any line, any tip that could be supportive for them.

Hours pass, no-one utters a word. Pens run on empty notebooks, hands managing to create only messy scribbles. Black and Blue fill the white as if it never existed.

The clock strikes the end hour.

They all get up.

They go home together, for discussions and relaxation.

At the doorstep, everyone enters before her, while she stands still, too engulfed in worries to notice the happenings.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Confetti pops, her reverie is broken.

The smile shines like a jewel in a priceless necklace.

The arrangements are minimal, just champagne, cake and friends, but that's more than enough for her. To make her forget the dark fog of pessimism.

Maybe there is hope left.

-------

Second Year:

12th August.

The day that is drifting closer by the minute.

It has always been Alekhya's birthday for her.

On her phone, In her diary, In her mind.

People might regard it as a beautiful flaw of her nature, the flaw of always placing others before herself.

But to her, the instinct seemed natural, obvious. She had never delved into the whys, and she doesn't want to begin now.

For Alekhya, the circumstances became vice-versa.

And this was the beauty of their bond.

Strong, Pure and Selfless.

They never seem to realize that, though.

They hold onto the strings of simplicity, of sweet uncomplexity. And that is what helps them to bridge the gap between siblings and best friends.

After the tumultuous year, that very much resembled the completion of a voyage through the rough Indian Ocean, where storms ravage through days and endless nights, thunders crack, and waves that scale the heights between the ocean and sky to become mountains of water, crash on the feeble pieces of wood barely held together in the form of a boat, coming back to her origin, her hometown is a necessity.

Especially for her to find that normalcy again.

She survived.

Even though she fell, almost drowned, gasped for a breath more times she could count and nearly accepted her fate.

Until that is, the pale faces of the ones she holds close, the endless stream of tears that scale their cheeks, their breaking hearts, came to haunt her in her reverie and prevented her from closing her eyes & from letting that almost undetectable beat of heart stop.

The wishes from last year come back to her. This time, it wasn't virtual anymore. This time, it wasn't just painted in pixels, but written in buttercream letters, one which she could taste.

This time, the hugs weren't just virtual. They were very real, and very needed.

As she sits amidst the bushes of phenomenal florals, she lets her mind project in vivid colours, the extremities of the last year.

Her heart, breaking into tiny glass pieces, not perceived by the eye but sharp enough to draw blood.

The fear of losing and letting so many others lose along.

The coming close and going away, almost kisses and slide of unassuming hands, those which could easily be perceived as a mistake, but were anything but.

Competing in a nameless competition and almost dying in the process.

Getting the lost love back. Slowly, Gradually. (even if it felt too early to call it that)

And then... Her mind stops as the playful tunes start emanating out along with florescent light from the cellular, and the face of the one who has been a regular image of the thoughts that lull her to sleep.

On the other side, his voice is soft.

She can visualize him in the Diagnostics Office, leaning back on his chair.

Most probably on a break.

The new day hasn't even started for him, yet he remembers that it has, for her.

Their talks are interspersed with comfortable silence. For them, just the knowledge that the person on the other side is still there with them is enough.

All through the conversation, she waits.

In a hope that the irrelevant and unimportant date is written in faded letters somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

As the line approaches its end, talks slowly halt, she feels a faint pang of sadness.

Maybe he doesn't remember it after all.

She bids her farewell, and as his finger hovers close to the end call button, she hears it.

Crystal Clear but still seeming unreal.

Happy Birthday, Pooja.

Her thanks are intermixed with a light giggle, unable to hold back the pleasure that erupts within her, along with the flutter called butterflies in her stomach.

Maybe there is always hope left, after all.

-------

Last year of Residence:

There have been countless moments when she has asked the time to wait, to slow its rushing footsteps that leave no mark behind.

Sometimes it's a beg, while in other vespertine hours, it's a mindless murmur.

This moment is one of them.

When a handful of sand is slowly released on a windy day, the swooshes and swishes carry them away, farther and farther, leave them with no choice but to fly along.

The minutes were being carried away by the same current, where they had no choice but to pass.

No one had the power to hold it, not even the mighties, the richest, the most supreme.

The conditions now extensively mimic the conditions during her first year.

Just this time, it was textbooks on internal medicine and medical procedure instead of ethics.

The wishes that day are hushed, the minimal party comprising of cupcakes and mug cakes and the gang, christened "The Invincibles" after they successfully tackle one hurdle and another but remain strong and together, in their PJs.

It must be one of the first nights since who knows how long when they spent their time doing an activity that doesn't involve colour coded tabs and complicated biological drawings.

And even though some of them make faux complaints about the wasted time, they all needed this break more than they could express.

The morning sun rays filter through the white curtains guarding the windows way too fast, making them unable to pinpoint the exact moment when the black of the night ceased to exist, when the sky became melanocrysus and when the golden took over the entire stretch.

A single text message pushes her to drop the blanket of laziness, the cocoon she inhabited. Getting up and placing a smile has never been as easy as it was now.

Come Over

------

The condo is inhabited by a stark silence when she reaches there.

She knocks. The click of the doorknob on the other side is almost instantaneous.

His hand wraps around her waist like a reflex deeply etched in his encephalon. For the first time in forever, their kisses are not chaste. Or momentary.

When he whispers a happy birthday wish against her forehead, that's what she would call intimacy.

The purity of the action touches her heart and makes it swell, with an emotion that she predicts will not remain unnamed any longer.

-------

First-year as an attending:

The celebratory vibes are in the air today.

Her stride is confident, heels playing a mellow harmony on the shining floors.

No one doesn't recognize her.

The intern who nearly lost her license to the Head of Diagnostics team, it was a journey that had thrown her off-road a million times.

Sometimes the barriers were pinpricks leaving no marks, and sometimes they were boulders crushing her.

And sometimes, one of these on-lookers would tear down her faith by stabbing her from the back, the cowardice of their soul, being mirrored in the blades of those knives of betrayal.

And yet she stands strong, her resolve unperturbed, as she faces the demons, those of others and those of her own.

It's a fight she has been learning to fight since she was eleven.

To curtain her tears with a glow in eyes, to hide the broken heart behind pretty lies. And just like practice makes one perfect, she has almost perfected the art of having to hide the real her inside.

As she passes the numerous congregations, amalgamations of patients and staff, she is greeted by wishes from old acquaintances whose kindness is apparent in their smile and by wishes of employed enemies, whose disinterest or sometimes blatant hate is too, completely apparent in their voice.

But they are not the ones she is worried about.

Interspersed between these two extremities are people who speak kind and in flattery lines with a sword behind their back.

Those who know how to hide their true intentions in the modulations of voice.

Every time she hears a wish where nothing is apparent, her heart stops for a while.

Strings of thought muddle her head and she tries to figure out the reality behind their words.

Sometimes she succeeds, sometimes she fails.

And sometimes she faces vehement opposition of her tired nerves who ask her to stop caring about those who are passing by.

But she never stops.

Her legs carry her to the Diagnostics office.

Her Office.

The swell of pride, of a fulfilment she last felt when she got into Edenbrook, make her head light.

She tries to stop but gives up the efforts soon.

If she has realized something through the twists of lawsuits and turns of almost dying, it is that if you keep waiting for the turns of the clock to approach a "right moment" for a chance to celebrate, you will probably keep waiting your entire life until your breath is being taken away and all that is left are regrets and missed opportunities of happiness.

So she twirls like a princess in her imaginary ball gown, beaming with satisfaction, and taking pride in giving herself the give of success.

Of making her loved ones and herself proud.

She gets so carried away in the train of thoughts, in which one bougie is connected by another, and one more, that she doesn't notice the person who preoccupies the room.

The halt is so sudden, that she almost tumbles upon the man. Almost.

She manages to get hold of herself, her hand on his back.

He turns, eyes meet.

If someone would have asked her what is cosmic, she would have said "The melt of glowing ambers into ice blue." Sure, she has looked into them more times than she can count or recollect. But every time their orbs meet, the reactions the action produces, she can only give the word seraphic to it.

When Ethan left for Amazon, she would often wonder why is she still keeping the lamp of hope alive. His absquatulation broke her, acted like a spark to her over-thinking mind. She would lie on her bed, eyes tracing the same lines on the ceiling above her over and over again, thinking just what she did wrong. She never reached the end of the path though, never really achieved the answer, even after meandering through a hundred courses of thoughts.

But now, she thanks her old self for living through it all. For not letting that lamp extinguish. For keeping it safe in a little corner of the labyrinths of her heart. Wordlessly, she hugs him, the plethora of emotions becoming quite too much to be expressed in minute syllables.

His whisper next to her ears, the innocently simplistic words induce a shiver in her spine.

But the last word.

4 letters, 1 word.

It hangs in the air like a diamond necklace around a maiden's neck. Like a tiny pendant that shines brighter than all elaborate jewels, all lengthy anecdotes.

It's enough, more than enough for her.

And as their smiles slowly spread like the slow rise of the golden sun, gently letting the rays spread through the humble earth. And those smiles, they shine together, brighter than the Sirius.

Happy Birthday, Love.

-------

Her casual gown, bearing floral patterns, flutters along with the soft grass, she feels a sense of wonder. Whether at the shimmering moon, the stardust spread through the stretch in the woods, or at the simplicity of her surroundings, she does not know.

Her unassuming footsteps walk slow, observant of her surroundings. After walking down the trail, she stops at the clearance.

At a distance, something shines under the silver moonbeams. Her mind beckons her to return back, but her intuition asks her to move on. She listens to the latter's plea.

A small cuboidal box and a bunch of white tulips lay peacefully out of place. She usually would have left it, just in case it was a trap.

But this time curiosity overtook reason and she picks the bouquet up. A small note amidst her favourite flowers.

I love you

No name. No initials. But she knew exactly who had written it. Not because he was the one who asked her to come here, in the heaven hidden amidst the chaos, but because those flourishes of his fanciful lettering would never escape her notice. Even if the only source of luminance was distant fairy lights on trees and the faint moonbeams.

Her eyes travel away from the articles. At a distance, the silhouette stands. The same silhouette from her sweven. But this time, there is no restlessness, no rush, no tension in the air. No thunder cackles and no waves crash. This time the silhouette waits for her, unlike the last time when it was her waiting for him.

He turns, only the shine of his orbs visible. And the shadow of the gorgeous smile that dances on his lips. The last time, his stone mask was too heavy, too powerful for any of them to break or move.

But this time? This time, the mask has fallen off, it has met the end of its existence.

He comes closer, the shadow now a clear image. He goes and picks up the cuboid and hands it to her.

"Open it" He whispers in a soft voice, that disappears as soon as it appears.

She takes it and opens it, as per his words. Everything is perfect and normal.

Except for the space in the middle.

Something sparkles, in silver lustre. Her first instinct is, Diamond? She decided to pick it up

It's a key.

She looks up to him, bewildered. Is it what she thinks it is?

Move-in with me?

She places the box of chocolates down, the key held tight in her fist.

And then she kisses him.

She doesn't have to speak a word, but he understands. After all, why would two intertwined hearts need verbal responses to know what the other one feels?

Only his home, can fill the brick walls of his house with love, and make it a home.

------

They both lay side by side on the lush grass, hands intertwined, hearts beating in unison, silence filling their souls like air fills their lungs.

They look at the stars and the moon. Or more appropriately, the gaze at the starry screen, but the mind plays significant moments from their time together.

Pooja's mind however thinks about the four of her birthdays since she set foot in Boston. The mundane softness of them, contrasting all the birthdays she has had in the rest of her years.

The photo frame of the interns from the first year. The group video call, her life from the second year. The PJ party from the third year. And the key from the fourth.

They are puzzle pieces of the saga of her life, the absence of friends from early years, the gap, the void now filled.

And after years of searching, she thinks she has finally found it. Hidden in the normality, the simplicity, the mundanity of life.

Happiness.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part i) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part i

prologue

part ii

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst?

Author’s Note: hi everyone, thank you so so much for the responses to the prologue! I am so overwhelmed and did not expect to receive so much kindness it makes me wanna cry hahaha 🥺 thank you a thousand times over! and if this is your first time getting to know the fic, I highly suggest you read the prologue before diving into part 1! This chapter is sort of a filler chapter (I know it has 2.6k words lol), it shows how (y/n) have been doing since the break up & how the trip came about, I hope it’ll make sense once you read it 🤍 thanks for reading x

Gif:

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It’s been months since you last spoke to him. Him. The thought of him still hurts. The idea of him existing without you, hurts. As much as you try to fight it, you still remember him like the back of your hand. You could draw on paper the contours of his face by memory, by instinct, like remembering your way home. He was a love you have never experienced before. Something about his magnetism seemed impossible to resist.

You and Dominic broke up nearly half a year ago. Your hopes of an amicable breakup were destroyed by him. His confusion, his anger, his frustration made it impossible for you two to stay friends. He couldn’t even begin to imagine being just a friend to you when his entire heart belongs to you. He called you selfish for leaving, he called you stubborn for having your mind made up without letting him put up a fight when he was ready to battle anyone, even you, to save your relationship.

The first few months were difficult, but the first few weeks were excruciating. You barely ate, as the numbing in the pit of your stomach constantly made you nauseous that your body couldn’t digest anything you ate. You couldn’t bring yourself to shower and get dressed, and spent days laying in bed, wallowing in sadness. Overtime, you just learn to live with the pain.

Since then, you’ve had good days, and slowly but surely stopped faking smiles and replaced them with genuine ones. But your bad days felt like hell, with your mind often teasing you with memories of him that you’ve suppressed enough to compartmentalise, then it comes back to you all at once, and consumes your entire soul. The pain is suffocating, like being crush by tidal waves, leaving you no time to run for shore, the waters dragging you, pulling you in many directions. All you could do was be still, stay paralysed, and pray that it goes away. That’s what remembering him felt like.

Then on other days, you often wonder how you were able to manage all this, with the pain still fresh whenever you think about it, but I guess we’re all guilty of pushing our feelings to the side and pretending that everything’s alright, when it’s the opposite. You’re still alive, despite it all. But you want to live, not just survive.

The truth is, you did not leave because you fell out of love. In fact, you were too in love—it’s a crime. He was your entire life. Days were spent waiting for him to come home from training and matches. Missing him during away games. Your entire happiness depended on him, and that terrified you. You weren’t happy with yourself either, and expected more out of your life. The burden of having a prosperous career, a stable income, a life for yourself that you loved, becoming too heavy to bear. You had all these dreams and goals set for yourself that you never got to actualise so you could be by his side. Your love for him was insurmountable, that you couldn’t accommodate anything for yourself. No matter how hard you tried, you will always put him first. It was natural. Even though he never asked for all your attention, you couldn't simply choose between yourself or him, because you would always choose him. Over and over.

So you did what you had to do, break your own heart, and his, to love yourself.

Since your breakup, you finally moved out of your friend’s place and got yourself a nice two-bedroom flat at the city centre with a stunning view of the city. You landed yourself a job as a junior editor for British Vogue that demands commuting to London several days a week. As you thrive in difficult situations, the breakup forced you to submerge yourself in work, mainly to avoid the pain, but it propelled you to get to where you are.

Trying to get over someone who is in the public eye was a different battle. It seemed as though everywhere you went, he’s there. You see him on billboards, TV screens, his face painted on murals, quickly becoming a tourist site. Occasionally, you would watch his games out of habit, and listen to the prideful Evertonian crowd chant his name. You witnessed his first England senior team debut, and tuned in to England v. Wales on the TV for old time’s sake. You watched him score his first senior England goal behind a screen. Your eyes welled at sight of him living his dream, poaching the ball into the net, scoring the first goal of the game, making his country and family proud. You feel the rush of adrenaline he felt as he ran to his teammates and celebrated. You can’t help but share this sense of pride, as you’ve watched firsthand how hard he has worked to get to where he is.

But on days where he isn’t on your mind, you do not want to be reminded of him. It’s difficult to cope when you encounter pieces of him that takes you back to the worst day of your life, and his.

Like last night, for instance. You had been scrolling on your social media when it was brought to your attention that a magazine had published an issue with your ex on the front cover, spotted on a night out with a blonde you don’t personally know but you could’ve sworn you’ve seen before. Perhaps another one of those so-called “influencers”, you thought to yourself. You know that you have no right to feel jealous or upset, as you broke up with him and this was bound to happen, but selfishly, a part of you had hoped that he wouldn’t find anyone else, or at least not before you did. You’re frustrated at yourself for letting him have this effect on you even months after your break up.

Succumbing to your bad habits, you give in to your impulses and pop open a bottle of red wine to calm your growing anxiety. Two glasses of wine, a takeout, and a season of Gossip Girl later, you find yourself slightly drunk, nerves calmed, and a little drowsy so you quickly change into your satin pyjamas and tuck yourself in bed.

You decide to turn on the TV for some background noise and quickly close your eyes. By some twist of fate, you hear a painfully familiar voice giving his thoughts at the end of a game he’s won. The sheer volume of his voice on the TV causes a sharp pain in your chest as you scramble to reach for your remote in the dark, with your eyes half opened. and change it to anything but a sports channel. That’s it, you thought to yourself. I need to get the fuck away.

Still drunk and not entirely aware of what you’re doing, you reach for your laptop on the nightstand. The brightness made your eyes squint a little bit, but you managed to type out a link and open a travel booking site, and scroll through different pictures of tropical islands you’re longing to get to. Anywhere but here, you thought. You selected options that you thought looked the blue-est, the most expensive, a party town, and had the most five star restaurants.

By the end of it you have booked a return flight to Mykonos for 5 people where you will be staying at a grand, luxurious 5-bedroom villa located at the party central of the island. You couldn’t be bothered to check how much it cost you. All sense of ration gets thrown out the window when you mix heartbreak with alcohol. When you told your friends of what you had just done, it was safe to say that they were surprised but absolutely ecstatic that you have booked a much needed getaway with the girls. With a three-day notice, you all quickly scramble through your closet and go on an online shopping spree to pick out your outfits for the holiday.

***

Days later, you find yourself landing on Mykonos island on a sunny afternoon.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to pull all this off within days,” your friend says as you all walk through the pebbled entry way of your villa, and open the door. “Holy fucking shit,” another friend says in awe of the sight. The villa was filled with white interior, bright lights, wooden tables that give off beach vibes, and an infinity pool where you could swim as you watch the sunset, with a view of the blue sea. With 5 bedrooms to choose from, your friends collectively decided that you should take the master that had direct access to the pool, which you happily accepted but it wouldn’t matter anyway, as you’ll all probably stay in one room.

Once you’ve unpacked, you pull out your white cardigan and make your way out the terrace to catch a view of the sunset and have a moment by yourself. You take a deep breath of the fresh air with a hint of sea breeze as you try to take in the stunning view of the island. You are filled with gratitude as you bear witness to something so beautiful as you watch the sun sink into the blue Aegean Sea. Despite the peacefulness exuded by the view, your heart can’t help but feel Dom. You remember when he had brought up wanting to spend this exact summer in Mykonos with you, but life had other plans.

***flashback***

Dom was laying in bed with his laptop screen on his chest, an arm to support his head as he scrolled through the travel booking site. He had been looking through different options, but he has his mind set on a lovely town in Greece, Dubai’s overrated after all, he thought.

“Me, you, blue skies, tanned skin, bike rides around town, what do you think love?” asked Dom. “Where’s this?” you ask, moving closer to him as he shows you his laptop screen. “Mykonos. It’s not too far away, I’ll have enough time to rest before pre-season starts,” he replies. “That sounds like a plan,” you smile at him. “But we’ll book it closer to the summer, yeah? In case anything comes up,” you said as you plant a kiss on his cheek. He nods as he bookmarks the site and drifts off to sleep with you shortly after.

Unbeknownst to you, later that night he quietly opened his laptop and quickly booked the trip for you two as a surprise. Anything that will come in the way will just have to be compromised. He was adamant to make sure he gives you the best summer of your life, it is what you deserve after all, he thought.

***

You had forgotten about your conversation with Dom until you stood on the island. Your thoughts were interrupted by your friend’s footsteps. “Hey, you okay babe? You’ve been out here for a while,” she asks with concerned eyes. “I’m alright,” you said. “Or I will be,” you add, giving your friend a forced smile. Your friend wraps her arm around your shoulders as you two make it back inside to have an early and quiet night with the girls, exhausted from all the travel.

***

The next day you woke up a little late, with only several hours to tan before having to get ready for your dinner reservation at one of Mykonos’s famous restaurants that looks over the sea. A little frustrated at yourself for sleeping in, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, put on some light makeup, and change into your swimwear.

You join your friends who are sprawled on the sunbeds. “So, where is this place again?” you asked your friend who booked the dinner. “A restaurant by the sea located at party central babe. Everybody, I mean everybody goes here. They’ve got the best food and music,” she replies. “Think of Mamma Mia 1,” another friend chimes in. Your eyes widen at the imagery. “Better have some great alcohol too, I’m desperate for some,” you laugh. “That’s my girl,” your friend says.

***

By the late afternoon you and the girls are getting ready for dinner. Makeup bags and its contents sprawled on the floor, you had to tiptoe around makeup products and brushes, careful not to step on them. After long deliberation, you decided to dress up in co-ord that hugs your figure and fits you like a glove, paired with your favourite heels, settling for an elegant yet fun look. You decide to keep your hair down and put on some natural makeup to balance out the bold colour. After about 30 minutes of taking pictures of each other and some group photos, you finally made it out the door.

The location was spectacular. The ambience was complemented with bright lights to lighten the dim Mykonos sky that has turned a shade of dark blue, almost purple. The food was divine, a little overpriced for your liking, but it was worth it. The restaurant turns into a nightclub close to midnight, and you and your girls were eager to start your first round of drinks. Fruity drinks were passed around, made with fruits freshly picked from the gardens. Watermelon margarita was your drink of choice, partly sweet, partly sour, and just enough tequila as your first drink of the trip.

The restaurant was packed, you could’ve sworn you had seen a star of a Spanish series you’ve just finished watching on Netflix. The guests were well dressed, many had bravely eccentric taste, mixing patterns and sparkly jewellery, paired with funky footwear to add some flair. In Mykonos, you will not encounter the same judgment as you would walking down the streets back home.

Your friends stood up to dance the second the alcohol kicked in. You took your time, savouring your drink, wanting the night to last. You smile at the sight of your happy friends, so full of life, not giving a single care in the world. As you’re sitting there, observing people, you suddenly feel your chest get heavy. It’s hard to put into words what this feeling is like, but it pushes you to shut down in social settings, overwhelmed by strangers and loud music that makes your ears ring. It is a feeling of unexplained anxiety, where you need a second to correct your breathing, and calm yourself down. Not now, you thought, not here. You often feel these random bouts of emptiness since you left Dom. You try to push the discomfort away, and think of anything else but him. You stood up and walked to the edge of the restaurant by the white border wall to get some fresh air, and take in the view of calm waves under the night sky to collect some peace of mind.

You place your elbows on top of the border, and rest your head on the palms of your hands. A bystander would think that you’re a scene from a movie, a damsel in distress, longing for her love interest. But this was no movie, no fairytale, no knight in shining armour to protect you, no lover to sweep you off your feet.

Or so you thought.

Your focus on the sounds of splashing waves was interrupted by familiar footsteps, getting louder and louder as it creeps its way closer to you. The scent of the sea began to mix with an all too familiar scent of tobacco vanilla. Only one person came to mind. It can’t be, you thought.

“(Y/N)?,” his voice breaks.

It’s him.

[oh-so-scenarios]

Loose Ends | three

⇢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ...ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ.

⇢ᴄᴇᴏ! ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ x ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ! ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇx-ғɪᴀɴᴄᴇs!ᴀᴜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇsᴛᴏʟᴏᴠᴇʀs

**A/N: Yall already know the deal, there are errors! (Word count 6.03K)

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Y/N:

I have to tell her. I have to tell her. There is no way I can keep this from her forever.

I’m staring at the door that led into my roomy 3 bedroom apartment. On the other side was my 17-year-old sister. The bass of the TV was leaking through the door, letting me know that she sat in front of the living room TV.

Today was my 6th day working for Mr. Kim and since the heated discussion four days ago, he barely speaks to me. He barely lifts his gaze to acknowledge my presence and I can’t say I hate it, but I don’t like it either. 

I can’t expect anything from him. The state of things was due to my decisions and even though I am fine with handling that burden, I wasn’t prepared to see his face every day. It’s slowly taking a toll on me. It’s picking away at my resolve and leaving me with a familiar empty feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

Luna may only be 17 but she worries about me like a mother. It’s been like that since I could remember. I can’t recall when the roles changed. When did I lose my grips of being the older sister, and when did Luna take on that role?

I lean against the wall by the door, staring blankly at the floor. It’s unfair really, how I have leaned on Luna. It’s unfair and cruel because Luna should have been leaning on me. Regret bubbles up in my stomach and travels up my body to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. 

Luna was always my mother’s favorite child. She was the one that received the most hugs, the better presents, and the compliments. As a child, it bothered me. Why was she more important than me? A mother should love her children equally! They should put the same amount of effort into each child. 

But that wasn’t the case with Luna and I. Oh no, Luna needed the extra attention and love because Luna was sick. She’d been sick since birth, but our mom did a good job of hiding it from me. The random walks they’d take together while I stayed at home with my grandmother would leave me in envy. 

But I found out as Luna got older and started to talk that they were going to doctor’s appointments. Juna was born with a weak heart. I never understood the details. Something about a tube she was supposed to have didn’t fully develop. My mother was hiding it from me because she didn’t want me to worry.

Doctors were telling my mother that it would be a miracle if she lived past 22 years old. A horrifying thing to hear from anyone. The fact that my mother didn’t crumple from the stress is unbelievable. This was after my father up and left us. My parents were never married, so when he left after Luna was born, my mother was one her own.

We moved in with our grandmother and my mom worked and worked. All she would do is work. We’d see her on weekends and that’s when she’d pour all her time into Luna. I grew to resent her. I was only 7 when Luna was born, so the present blossomed as I entered adolescence.

However, my mother passed when I was 16. A car accident took her life, leaving us to be raised by our grandmother. My mother worked like crazy, leaving money for that we used for Luna’s medical bills after she passed.

Well, as much of the bills as we could.

Luna adored Namjoon, and when things went to shit 3 years ago, she blamed herself, but what could I have done?

I took my keys out, unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment. Just as I predicted, Luna sat on the couch, her back facing me, with her laptop on her lap and the tv on as background noise.

“You’re home?” She called over her shoulder. She didn’t spare me a glance, clicking rapidly at something. 

“Yeah.” My voice came out thin, which made her clicking stop. She looks over her shoulder at me, her short brown hair pushed behind her ears. Her thin bangs were a distray, a result of her running her fingers through her hair in frustration. 

“Rough day at work?” She questions, keeping her eyes on me for a moment longer before turning back to her laptop. I take off my shoes, and approach the couch, barely peeking at her laptop screen. I take a seat on the loveseat perpendicular to her and watch as she starts to type something.

“An essay?” I assume.

“Yes ma’am.” She answers glancing up at me. Luna does school online, her grades being good enough that she convinced her school to allow her to do most of her senior year online. 

“Luna,” I call out with a heavy heart, “There is something I need to tell you.” 

Without a glance, she hums in response. She wore an oversized black hoodie with pj shorts she found on sale some time ago. She told me she bought them because of the design of avocados on it. I’m not surprised. She loves silly things like that. 

“You know that new contract I started?” 

“The long one you swore you weren’t gonna accept?” She mentions, smiling in a mischievous manner. She only did that because she was also against me doing such a contract. She knew I’d be miserable, and she was right.

“Is the CEO an asshole?” She asks but speaks again right after. “-It’s not like you haven’t handled some rude CEOs before?” 

“The CEO is Namjoon.” I forced it out, and it feels like I was running out of oxygen when I said it. My words are quick and unsteady. 

She looks at me with wide eyes, like she was waiting for me to start laughing and tell her it was a joke. 

“Seriously? The Kim Namjoon?” She questions and moves the laptop off her lap and onto the couch. She leans forward, and she doesn’t look away from me.

“Yeah. He’s the CEO.” I show her a small smile before leaning back in the loveseat. I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling.

“You need to quit.” She orders.

I chuckle, “I knew you were going to say that.” I mutter, still gazing at the white ceiling. 

“Y/n! Come on! You can’t keep working there! This isn’t good for you.” She argues. 

“You think I don’t know that Luna? Seeing his face every day is wearing me down, but I signed the contract. I can’t leave.” I informed her. 

When I picked my head up to see the worried grimace on her face, I sighed and sat up in the loveseat. It was usually comfortable, but today it’s softness was useless. I’m in an uncomfortable situation. This job is leaving me in a constant state of stress.

“It’s not too bad.” I try to lift the mood, “He barely speaks to me, so it’s nothing! He only speaks to me about work.” 

“Y/n.” Her tone is different and she drops her focus to her hands in her lap. I know what’s coming. I know what she’s going to say and I’ve heard it too many times for my liking.

“Luna, don’t even go there!” I groan, shaking my head at the sad sad look in her eyes.

“Y/n, you keep saying this but...I still feel awful! This is all my fault! If it wasn’t for me You and Namjoon would have been marr-” 

“Stop!” My voice comes out in a panic shriek, taking both of us by surprise. Luna jumps at my outburst, her eyes becoming wet with tears.

“Luna, you don’t need to bring it up again. None of this is your fault, okay?” I stand up from my seat, grabbing my bag off the coffee table, and walking around the couch she sat on, and down the hallway. But before I can go far, Luna speaks again.

“Do you still love him?” She shouts. I stop walking and stare down at the carpet. My chest tightens and I lean against the wall for strength. Do I still love him? 

“Y/n? You still love him right?” This time her voice is closer. I turn around to see her standing at the end of the hallway, her hips leaning on the back of the couch. Her eyes showed pity, while she ran her fingers through her bangs. She always does that when she’s stressed. 

We stare at each other and a moment of silence passes before she sighs.

“Y/n…” She whines, taking my silence as an answer, “You need to quit.”

“I can’t.” I answered immediately, “I can’t quit. It doesn’t matter how I feel. He hates me now. Plus, a man like Namjoon...you can never stop loving him.”

“M-maybe this is fate? It’s a second chance.” 

I laughed at her notion and could only shake my head in response. A second chance? What a joke. The sad look in her eyes only makes me want to retreat. I turn my back on her and go into my room, feeling the weight of the past few days on my shoulders. I closed the door behind me and tossed my bag to the side before falling face-first into my bed. The painful memory burned into my mind. It burned like a new fire wound. It stung and the slightest thought back to it made my eyes water. 

The heartbreak in his eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I made a choice. 

《 PAST 》

At this moment, I’d rather be swallowed up by the ground. I’d rather whatever higher power there is, strike me down and end my life at this very moment. It would be less painful. Pulling layers of band-aids from burnt skin would be less painful. At that moment my whole body went stiff. My knees locked, my muscles tensed and my lungs were struggling to take in oxygen.

Maybe it’s because I was holding my breath with my eyes wide. I stared at the man smiling up at me for the past 3 seconds. 

3 seconds. It had only been 3 seconds but it felt like an eternity. I blink, and he smiles back at me. He’s on one knee, holding out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.

Not a huge rock, but it shines beautifully. A dazzling circular diamond, with smaller diamonds lined around the band. The silver band itself sparkled. In the ring, I could see his love, his hard work, and our years of laughter, tears and good memories.

I left out a harsh breath, my head feeling light as I was holding my breath. My awareness grows and I become aware of where we are. At a fancy restaurant in which it was rented out, making us the only customers. The kitchen staff stood at the back of the restaurant, watching me for my reaction. 

Namjoon. Kim Namjoon, the love of my life and the man I’m pretty sure the universe made for me and I for him. He stares at me with a smile, tears of nerves, and joy coating his loving eyes. It’s only been another 4 seconds. 7 seconds since I saw his lips move I say those words. 

I couldn’t hear them as I was having an out of body panic attack, but his lips moved so I’m sure he said the words.

“Y/n, will you marry me?” 

He said them and I knew he would. I saw this coming and I knew he was going to say these things...so now I know what I have to say. 

I push down the dread pulling in my system and laugh. I laugh in his face, trying my best to not see his hopeful smile drop into a look of anguish and fear. 

“Seriously Namjoon?” I cackled, trying to swallow down the tears that were burning my eyes.

“Marry you?” I hissed. He stays there on one knee, bringing down his arm that was showing me the ring. 

“I-is there something wrong?” His voice trembles and it feels like my heart is turning to ash in my chest.

“Is there something wrong!?” I raise my voice, stepping back from his crouched figure, “Namjoon, what do you have to offer? What do you have to give that makes you think you could be my husband? We just graduated college and you don’t have a cent to your name because you went and got disowned by your rich parents.” 

He gasps, shocked by my words.

“Y/n, I did that for you and for myself! You’re the one that pushed me to go against my parents plans for me. You said you’d stand by myself.” He exclaims, and stands to his feet, the tears in his eyes not the same happy tears as before. 

“As you do what Namjoon? Write poetry? Help other people put out their shitty works? I need stability. You had that when you were listening to your parents.” My voice trembled towards the end, my resolve breaking with every second. 

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at me and staggered back. It was as if his own realization left him physically drained.

“Y/n…” He pauses, staring down at the ground while tears run down his cheeks.

“Did you only get with me because of my family’s money?”

I love you. Namjoon I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have no choice Joon, but I need to do this. 

“Of course, I did.” I choke out, “After years of friendship, I knew you had a crush on me so I took it to my advantage...but there is no reason to stay with you now.” 

He looks up from the floor and clutches the velvet box in his hands, “I don’t believe you.” 

“Believe it.” 

“Y/n,” He reaches out, holding a hand of mine in his free one, small pants leaving his lips.

“Y/n, please stop. This has to be a joke right? This is going too far!” He squeezed my hand, pleading with me. Hi eyes stayed on my face, scrutinizing my expression for any sign of a joke. He brings me closer to him, his familiar warmth and scent overpowering my senses. 

He stares down at me, in disbelief and anguish all I could see. I almost broke. I could feel my eyes burning with what was going to be tears. My dearest Namjoon gazed at me with a death grip on my hand, knowing that if he let me go, I’d fly away from him like a balloon.

“Get off of me!” I yelped, taking my hand away from his and pushing him back. 

“Y/n.” His voice broke. The sound alone triggered tears too well in my eyes. I turn my head away from his so he doesn’t see them. I grabbed my bag that sat out the dinner table and rushed out of the restaurant. My heels clicked as I got out of the restaurant and onto the street. I don’t know where I’m walking to but my legs just carry me, wanting to run away from the pain.

《 PRESENT 》

It has been a quiet day. It’s been a quiet week. Mr. Kim only speaks to me when needed, falling to having Sana deliver orders to me, making it so I only see Mr. Kim is passing. No surprise, and no hard feelings. This is probably for the best and if we can keep this up for the next 7 months and 1 week...things will run smoothly.

Mr. Kim is currently out of the office, so I sat at the desk with Sana at my side. She worked on some documents for a presentation Mr. Kim will be having. The rights of a book that will be made in a movie are up for discussion. 

While I am setting up a meeting with authors who are looking to publish with Moonchild Publishings. It was 3:37 PM, 6 PM not feeling too out of reach. The place is filled with the constant tapping of the keyboard and the humming of printers and copy machines. Everything was going as normal. 

I sat in my seat, my black & white checkered flare pants making me wonder if my curves were being shown off a bit too much. Despite Mr. Park’s wandering eyes, I was beginning to think that my outfits showed how hard I was trying.

I wore a simple black long sleeve blouse with some tan heels to bring the outfit together. I did a simple hairstyle and rushed out of the house, waking up a bit later than I usually do. The clouds were grey when I left the house, with a humidity thickness in the air. 

So when I was returning from lunch, which Sana followed me to, I felt the first softy warning drops of a storm come. By the time when I reached the top floor in the elevator, it was a full downpour. Mr. Kim hadn’t left the building. He was out of the office but was somewhere doing business.

He had certain types of meetings that though they were on his schedule, the reasonings were unknown. I don’t ask questions, I answer them so there is no point in asking him for details.

I hear the elevator bing from down the hallway and I assume it’s Mr. Kim made his way back. I don’t plan to even look up, seeing as Mr. Kim doesn’t spare us a glance when he enters, so I stopped standing up to greet him, as Sana still does. 

The coldness we show towards each other hasn’t gone unnoticed, making me think back to something Sana said back at lunch.

“You two really hate each other huh? Like old enemies or something.” She laughs it off and takes another bite of her sandwich.

I’m snapped out of my flashback just in time to hear the click of heels. Heels? That couldn’t be-

I looked up to see another familiar figure. An older Korean woman wearing a straight and non-form fitting white dress with a creme colored bag over her shoulder and nestled in between her armpit.

Her light brown hair was up in a neat bun with a sparkling brooch attached. Her light make-up and freshly done nails gave away the lifestyle she lives. She’s rich, she's well off. Her confident posture and expensive heels show that.

She holds her head high and believes she's above the people that work here. She’s also looking at me. No she’s glaring at me. 

I stare back at her and the feeling of disgust crawls it’s way up my throat. I press my lips tightly against each other, clenching my teeth to force a somewhat presentable smile. 

“Mrs. Kim.” My voice was strained, and my muscles were reeling in discomfort. 

She smiles, that same smile she gave me 3 years ago. Pity. Disgust. Superiority. It was all in her smile. It was a victory smile almost, her eyes showed anger. Anger and confusion. She probably thought she'd gotten rid of me, but here I am. Back in her perfect son’s life.

“Y/n, we meet again,” she pauses, “the unfortunate.”

Sana looks back and forth between both of us, her facial expression going from surprise to confusion and finally understanding. She rises from her seat to say hello to Mrs. Kim. I, on the other hand, do no such thing. 

I stay seated and stiffly look back down at the computer.

Sana sits down again, awkwardly clearing her throat and looking at me as if she wanted to speak. The slight trembling of my fingers gave away that I wasn’t going to speak.

“Hello, Mrs. Kim. Your son is out of the office, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Sana informs her. I continue to type away at the computer, trying to contain the rage that was causing a sense of anxiety over my body. 

This cursed, evil, and wicked woman. I look up from the computer screen

“That’s fine. I’ll wait in his office.” She answers Sana but keeps her eyes on me. She slowly turns around, happy that I’m watching her. I forget where I am for a moment and roll my eyes at the older woman just as the door to the office closed behind her. 

I looked over to my right and met Sana’s blank facial expression. 

“I’m not gonna ask any questions.” She says.

“Good.” I deadpan and look at the computer screen. I pretend that I don’t feel Sana’s stare linger on my profile. However, I couldn’t help the feeling of heat rising in my body. My body temperature was going up as my anger increased. I forgot how much I hated that woman. I forgot how STUPID she thought I was. Yet in the end, I was exactly what she always accused me of being. 

A lousy woman that would take money over her son. That’s exactly what I did. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my movements stopping but the trembling of my fingers continuing. 

“Y/n?” Sana called. As if a thin string of my sanity snapped, I stood up from my seat, causing Sana to flinch at the unexpected movement. My breathing becomes labored while I stare at the closed double doors of Mr. Kim’s office. 

Who was the real winner in any of this? Did I get what I wanted out of our stupid deal? Did she get what she wanted? She must have, her smug smile burned into my frontal lobe. It’ll probably hunt me in my dreams, and any random thought of it in the future will cause me anger. 

Like an embarrassing memory that makes you shiver up and regret your decisions. That’s exactly what I’m feeling. I stomped away from the desk and down the hallway, those white walls leaving me to be drowned in my thoughts. I have to find the bathroom. I know there is one in this hallway somewhere. 

I keep my eyes low, stomping quickly to seek a place I can let out my scream of frustration. 

It isn’t till I crash into something hard that my parade is stopped. The scent is familiar but not comforting, causing my stomach to drop. 

“Ms. L/n?” Mr. Kim's voice held no concern but confusion. Why was I not at my desk doing the work that was expected of me? I continued to look down, only staring at his expensive dress shoes and the carpet. 

I took a small step back, my hands balling into fists to keep from reigning my anger onto him. He didn’t deserve that. If anyone is a victim here, it’s Namjoon. I have no right to take this out on him. I also had no right to waltz into his life as I did. He knows that, though not for the same reason as Mrs. Kim and me.

“Sir, I’ll be there in a moment, you have a guest waiting for you in your office.” I take a step to the right, hoping to bypass him, but he mimics me, blocking my way again.

“Where are you going?” He questions, this time crossing his arms over his chest. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s looking down at me with his jaw clenched. In the last 3 weeks, I’ve realized he does that when he suspects I’m up to something. Or what he thinks I’m bullshitting. 

All those suspicions only being grounded in personal feelings, seeing as my work here has been nearly perfect. I picked up on his routine quickly and moved before I had to be told. His charcoal grey three-piece suit looked like a smooth fabric. Something else with a combination of silk. A sign of wealth. 

I almost chuckle to myself at the bitter aftertaste of my choices. I couldn’t even want Namjoon back. It would only play into the gold digger impression I had him believe. I mean, no one expected a small-time publishing company to explode in success in its first two years, then dominate in its third. The 25-year-old CEO became a millionaire. 

Whether it was due to any assistance from his parents, I can’t be sure but...it makes me wonder if he would have still succeeded with me at his side. If I have to lie to myself and say he needed me gone to grow like this, I’ll do it. It makes me feel better. 

I take in a deep breath and slowly look at Namjoon, my eyes moving over his suit and the dark red tie, before meeting his cold eyes. 

I mustered up a smile, while oozed with sarcasm. So unprofessional of me. But this whole work atmosphere is unprofessional. The conflicts of interest would make any businesswoman lose her shit. 

“The bathroom.” I answer, “I am allowed to use the bathroom, aren't I, sir?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the testing edge to my words but asks another question. 

“What guest did you let in my office?” The beginning of him scolding me. I could feel it. My eyes fluttered close in frustration.

“Have you forgotten the rules I laid before? Any meetings that weren’t on my schedule should be turned away. I do not pencil people in-”

“It’s your mother, sir.” My eyes open after saying, “The guest in the office is your mother. She let herself into your office, I was not going to argue with her.” 

His face relaxes from displeasure to...discomfort? He groans and runs his hands over his face before staring at the carpeted floor for a moment. 

“What is that woman doing here?” He says under his breath. I could barely catch it, but there was disgust and unhappiness dripping off the words. My brows furrowed, not expecting that. Their relationship wasn’t repaired after I left?

I bite my lip to hide the victorious smirk that threatens to appear on my lips.

“Carry on.” Mr. Kim says without a glance back at me. He walks past me, no urgency in his movements. I continued down the hallway, past the elevator, and further down till I came to the bathroom marked for women. I was lucky enough to find it empty. I stood there staring at myself in the mirror, feeling like I was having an out of body experience. 

This is what people mean when they say your decisions always come back to haunt you. 

I clear my throat and let out a scream of frustration, knowing that anyone who gets off the elevator at this moment could probably hear it up the hallway.  

  But I don’t care. I need to let this out. I scream against, this time bringing my foot up to kick an innocent stall door.  

《 PAST 》

I don’t belong here. Anyone could tell that I don’t belong here. The eyes of every person that I met held the question of, “What are you doing at a restaurant like this?” 

I was wondering the same thing. I was wondering about all types of things. Why did Mrs. Kim call me here? Why did she tell me not to tell Namjoon? Was she ready to stop forcing her and Mr. Kim senior’s dreams onto Joon and to let him do what he wants?

I bet she is still a bit shocked at Joon taking himself out of the family. He was disowned but also removed himself. The Kims weren’t expecting such action from their son. He was only 21 years old, almost 22, and fresh out of college with the Business degree they forced on him.

The world isn’t easy, so he surely wasn’t serious about throwing his family away? But he did. 

They blame me. The whole family blames me and that’s okay. I was the one encouraging to do such a thing, so I’ll carry my weight of responsibility. I, however, can’t wait to tell her that both Joon and I are doing great without their money. It’s only been a few months since he was disowned, but I haven’t seen Joon so happy in all my years of knowing him.

“I’m here to meet Mrs. Kim?” I said to the host. She nodded, looking me up and down before motioning for me to follow her. I wore a simple tee and some jeans with sneakers. I wasn’t going to dress up for this woman. With how she moves about things, I doubt we’ll be eating anything.

The restaurant was huge, seeming to have different wings and sections for people who wanted to be away from others. I try not to gawk at the luxurious decor, noticing the judgemental looks from the host who was in front of me.

The hostess brings me to a small circular table where Mrs. Kim sat waiting. Her focus was on the table cloth. She traced the small details of the white and gold table cloth, not even looking up as I took my seat. 

“Y/n.” She says sternly, putting her dark gaze on me. 

“How would you like to make a deal?” She continues. My brows furrow and I cock my head to the side. I think for a moment before laughing. 

“Is this like those dramas where you give me a check to leave Joon? Mrs. Kim...you must be joking? You didn’t really call me here for this?” I keep laughing but her stone-cold facial expression doesn’t change. 

“I just want my son back.” She hisses.

“You can have your son back Mrs. Kim. You just need to understand his--” She cuts me off, frustration appearing on her face for a split second.

“You don’t understand, do you? Namjoon is never gonna open his arms to us as he did before! I don’t know what nonsense you put into his head, but if you get out of the picture, any last strands of this riff will be gone.’

“Excuse me?” I say.

“I don’t leave loose ends Y/n. You are a loose end of this rebellious and hard patch I’ve been having with my son. Which is why I simply cannot let you stay.” She smirks, reaching for the glass of water that was sitting in front of her this whole time.

She can’t be serious! What type of entitled selfish--

“Namjoon is going to ask you to marry him.” She states after getting a sip of water. 

My breath is knocked out of me, “H-huh?”

“You heard me right,” she gives me a pointed look. As if she couldn’t believe that I didn’t see this coming. 

“He told me himself Y/n….at least during an argument he did. Seeing as there is no ring on your finger,” Her eyes flicker to my hands that sat on the table, “He hasn’t asked you yet.”

She wasn’t giving me time to move past the initial shock of Namjoon’s proposal. He’s going to ask me to marry him?

I brought a hand to my chest, trying to catch my birth. 

“Y/n, I’m sure it’ll be a lovely ceremony,” She pauses, “too bad Luna won’t be there.” 

My happy mood is lost. The surprised smile left my lips while my face twisted up in pain. 

“E-excuse me?”

“Your sister Luna,” She gives an ungenuine pout, “Poor girl is sick right? And from what I heard getting worse.” My eyes burn and blur with tears. She’s right.

Luna is getting worse and worse. They say she’ll need surgery soon because her odds aren’t looking good. Namjoon has done his best to be the supportive rock for us both. Luna already believes her time is coming to an end and I have to smile and tell her to stay hopeful, all while having the same thoughts.

She has been on the waiting list for a heart transplant for the last 2 years and we’re still nowhere near where we need to be. As if I could even afford the surgery once she gets a transplant. 

The doctor told me it’ll be another 3 years before she could get a heart donor, and in the same breath told me she wouldn’t last a year without one. Life is cruel.

Mrs. Kim isn’t phased by my tears, and through my blurred vision, I think she smiles wider. 

“Y/n,” She leans close as if she has a secret she’s been dying to tell me. Her dark eyes were now bright with mischief. 

“Reject Namjoon’s proposal. Tell him you’re done with him and turn your back on him. That’s all I need from you and I can get your sister moved up on the transplant list. I could get her ready for surgery by tomorrow if I wanted to. I’ll pay for everything.”

I leaned back in the seat, a sob ripping through my chest at her proposition. My hands fell into my lap and I looked down at them.

“I mean, you’re not going to let your precious sister die are you?” She egged on, making my sobs grow stronger, “A big sister should do everything in their power to save their siblings right?”

Namjoon’s smiling face flashed into my mind, followed by my sister’s face. She sat there weak and scared in her hospital bed with a small smile on her lips.

“At least I'll be able to see mom soon.” She said softly. 

I bring my hand up to my chest, slouching over in my seat with my hand gripping at the fabric of my shirt. It feels like my heart is tightening up. Growing tight in the grips of the reality of what’s in front of me. 

The pain was running throughout my whole being, leaving me unable to speak words. 

“So are you going to pick Namjoon or Luna? What will the choice be Y/n?”

I don’t know how long I’m sitting there crying but Mrs. Kim doesn’t stop me, watching me with judgmental eyes. It might have been the tears in my eyes but for a small second, I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes. 

I struggled to catch my breath, sniffling, and wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hands.

“So what will it be?” She asks when my breathing returns to normal.

I clench my teeth, fighting off the second wave of tears that tickled my eyes. 

“I-I’ll...I’ll leave Namjoon. I’ll do it.” 

《 PRESENT》

I walk out of the bathroom, knowing I was already 5 minutes past the appropriate time someone takes to use the bathroom. I walk down the hallway, my steps quick to get back to my desk before Mr. Kim has a reason to yell at me. 

I meet an angry Mrs. Kim coming in the opposite direction. When we lay our eyes on each other, other steps slow, leaving us in a silent staring match. We stood about 4 yards from each other, the tension being so thick, I thought I could feel it around me.

“Seems like your son still hates you.” I jeer with a grin.

She snickers, taking slow strides towards me, “What? Does it make you feel like you’re a winner?” She looks me up and down with the same look of pity she gave me while I sobbed in front of her 3 years ago.

“All I know is that you weren’t able to repair that so-called relationship with your son. You should have known I had nothing to do with that.”

She stops just as she’s walking past me, her eyes forward while she stood right beside me. 

“Don’t worry Y/n...knowing that the questions of ‘What If’ that haunt you at night will always cause you to hate yourself, is all I need. In the end...only a fool would think they’ve won such a battle.”

Her words make my blood run cold, and I grow stiff as she continues to waltz away, stopping at the elevators. I stand there frozen long enough to hear the ding as the doors open, and the ding as they close.

It seems this time around, there are no winners after all. Just two losses and a casualty that is the one and only Kim Namjoon.

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ❣

Alrightty! So the story can finally start to really get moving! I’m excited! :D

There were people who told me they wanted to be on the taglist for this but i sadly lost the list I had! 

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I’m excited to see what you think of it and how you think things will progress. 

[frodonsam]

I Don’t Care

(based on this Tumblr post)

Their pitiful fire had finally winked out of existence, reduced to nothing but faintly smouldering coals that offered no real heat unless one was to shove their hands straight into the ashes. The barren lands around them were just as devoid of heat, jagged rock and unyielding stone laying exposed to the unfriendly sky like bleached bones, merely the echo of a land once living.

The night had grown bitterly cold, the ground offering no comfort nor promise of lingering warmth from the day. Not a ray of precious sunlight had touched these lands to heat the hard rock and gritty soil in a long age, leaving only oily weeds and the rare skeleton of an ancient tree, all signs of life long since leached from their weathered trunks. All that was left was an empty husk of what had once been good and full of all manner of creatures.

Frodo could feel the light being squeezed from within him, just as it had been from the land.  With every heavy step they took towards Mordor, the Ring whispered to him. Frodo had begun to feel like a beast carrying a great load, marching knowingly onwards to his own slaughter. A bitter taste arose in Frodo’s mouth, anger and fear and desire clouding his thoughts the closer they came to Mordor’s black lands. He wanted to be free of the yolk that the Ring had become. Not for the first nor last time, Frodo wished more than anything that the Ring had not come to him, yet he knew now that he would never be able to part from it while there was strength yet in his limbs.

It was like two sides to a coin, the desire to own the One Ring of power, to keep it as his and hurt anyone who were to try and take it from him. And yet, at the same time he wished just as violently that it would be cast away from him, into the hands of some other poor unlucky soul who could march it to the fires of Mount Doom while he and Sam could go home. Home, to the green fields and bright brooks of the Shire, far from the smoke and ash of Mordor.

A violent shiver wracked Frodo’s body at the mere thought of the dark lands they were all too steadily approaching. Or, that they hoped to approach. It had been nearly two days, or as near to two days as one could figure in the sunless land, and the two hobbits had been travelling in circles.

“Mr. Frodo?” Frodo started at the familiar voice, sitting up to turn towards his companion. “What is it Sam?” he answered, swallowing down the bitter taste as best he could, the feeling laying coiled in his chest like a snake ready to rear its ugly head.

“You’re shivering something awful. I’ve got plenty a’ warmth left in my limbs yet, you take my cloak an’ layer it up there.” Frodo smiled at the hobbit, a gentler look in his eyes than had been there but a moment ago. The stout hobbit had been shivering himself, but hastily had put on the guise of warmth for the sake of his friend.

“Oh Sam,” Frodo said softly, gazing at Sam with a warm sort of affection in his eyes. “And what will you use to keep you warm then? You keep your cloak, I’ll be alright.” he wrapped the elvish fabric around himself tighter, as if to prove his point. They had faced worse than the threat of a long, cold night in the wilderness. Surely he could endure one night.

It doesn’t have to be so cold though, a little voice told him, Frodo’s eyes flicking towards the place where Sam lay. Sam wouldn’t mind it. Frodo was horrified by his own train of thought. He knew Sam would do anything for him, had done everything for him without a word of complaint. How could Frodo ask something like that of him knowing no matter what Sam truly felt, he would say yes? He closed his eyes forcefully, hand reaching to his neck to clutch the heavy weight of the Ring as was his habit. It was cool to touch, and weighed heavily in his grasp. An icy cloud began to form in his thoughts as he held it.

He was startled from his daze by the voice of Sam, its tone tentative and uncertain. “There’d be no right sense in letting us both freeze Mr. Frodo. We could… well we could share our cloaks, if you’d be alright with it.” The gardener blushed red as a beet, warm brown eyes darting anywhere around the pitiful campsite but Frodo’s face. “I- I hope I’m not crossin’ no line there sir, it’s just that you look so cold an’-”

Frodo cut him off there, nodding silently while unpinning his cloak to hide his own steadily reddening face. It was just to stay warm. They had done the same during the cold nights braving the mountains, this was no different. Except it felt different. More intimate in a way, just the two of them huddled together against the long dark of the night. Intimacy with Sam (his Sam, as his mind wanted to say) was something he found himself… craving. And it made him feel dirtier than he felt after long months trudging through the wilds of the world.

They awkwardly moved close together, layering their cloaks and curling into each other to keep all appendages underneath the fabric as best they could.

There was silence for a good long while, neither of their breathing slowing down into sleep. Sam had tentatively wrapped his arms around Frodo’s thin frame, pulling him close to his body, like the dark-haired hobbit was something precious and fragile. In the space where the Ring occupied Frodo’s chest, Sam’s heart beat steadily, the reassuring thrum a welcome change of background noise from the constant ill-whisperings of the Ring. And then a realization struck him, a thought so out of place in those dark lands that it caught him by surprise.

Frodo felt safe.

Even here in the very shadow of Mordor, where they were separated from the Fellowship in unknown and hostile lands, without even a path to follow. Even here, he felt safe, so long as Sam was near. At the realization, unexpected tears sprung to his eyes, his shoulders shaking with a sudden emotion that he could not explain nor control.

“Frodo?” Sam adjusted his arms, loosening his warm hold to prop himself up on an elbow, his other arm resting lightly on Frodo’s side. “Is it the Ring?”

Frodo sat up for the second time that night, tears so dangerously close to spilling that he was afraid to blink should they fall. “No Sam it… it’s nothing.” How could he explain to Sam what he was feeling? Here he was, so close to Frodo, so good and pure and whole. Frodo was broken, already he could feel the conflict inside of himself. He was not the carefree hobbit that had left Bag End, nor did he expect that he ever would be again. There was something dark inside of himself now. Something that came from the Ring, yes… but perhaps something that was all his, and only just now starting to come to light. It was a fear that plagued Frodo’s thoughts in the shadows of the night. Sam did not deserve a friend such as himself, far less something- something more.

And Frodo would never be something more. Would never let himself be something more, would never initiate something with Sam that he knew the gardener might not turn down only because he loved Frodo enough to do anything for him- despite a lack of truly reciprocating the feelings.

“Pardon me for prying sir but it doesn’t seem like nothin’ to me now.” Sam’s face was stricken with concern. He pushed himself off of his forearm, coming to sit up so that he was eye to eye with Frodo. The gentlehobbit had been quiet for too long a pause, his normally pale skin flushed even more colorless in the scattered moonlight. Frodo’s side of the double-cloak had slipped from his shoulders when he had sat up, and he was now once more shivering.

Sam reached out to touch him, to bring him back down to the warmth of their shared makeshift bed, but the other hobbit flinched. At this Sam pulled back, a crescendo of emotions passing over his face before his features settled on just one: hurt.

“I’m sorry Mr. Frodo, if I said something out of line. I weren’t trying to pry or nothin’ I ‘as only worried about you.”

There was a heavy pause, before Frodo began to answer. “I’m sorry too, Sam. I know you were only worried about me, you- you’re honorable, and loyal.” He paused, taking a shuddering breath before he continued. “And I don’t deserve to have a companion such as you.” Much less, something more. His heart ached, or perhaps it was only the wound in his chest, it was hard to separate the pains that he had sustained on this quest. “And you deserve far better than me, Sam. I’m sorry to have brought you so far from home, from the Shire. It was selfish.”

How could he ever forgive himself, if he ruined Sam? If the other hobbit never got the chance to return to the Shire, to marry Rosie or some other like her, to start a life of his own away from Bag End and Frodo and everything to do with the Ring? He could not. Frodo had begun to understand that he would not be returning from this quest, that either the Ring or Mordor would consume him in the end. He could perhaps accept that fate, however dark it might be, if he knew that his friends- his Sam- would live their own lives happily.

He might be leading Sam to his death. Dear, sweet Sam, swallowed by the Black Gates, never to return to the green hills and cozy holes of their homeland. And at this, at last, the tears began to fall, hot in contrast to his cool cheeks.

“No, no Mr. Frodo. How could you be sayin’ something like that?” Sam reached for Frodo once again, this time his rough hands encompassing Frodo’s smaller ones. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles into the dirt-smudged skin, Sam’s eyes alight with a depth of feeling that still startled Frodo from time to time. He was reminded how much this gentle gardener from Hobbiton had hidden underneath the surface. Frodo had not known it, had not had the chance to know it, before this quest. Now he wondered how foolish he had been, to not have seen it before.

“You are the bravest, the most selfless hobbit I know. There ain’t hardly anyone else that’d come this far, Mr. Frodo. Carryin’ that thing you have around your neck. The rest ‘a the Fellowship couldn’t do it, couldn’t even be around it.” Sam’s words were strong, full of certainty and something else that Frodo couldn’t quite make out. He let go of one of Frodo’s hands, reaching up to rest his palm on Frodo’s cheek, pushing past dark curls to cup his face gently. Frodo found himself leaning into the touch despite himself, still shaking from a combination of the cold and repressed tears

Gently , Sam guided them both down, covering them back up with their makeshift blankets. His hand still held Frodo’s face, brushing away the tears as fast as they came. The two hobbits faced each other in the night, eyes blown wide to see in the darkness.

“Sam, you don’t understand what I’ve become. I’m not the same hobbit I was when I left the Shire, and I don’t think I can ever go back. I’ve changed, Sam. I-I have thoughts… feelings that I shouldn't.” The admittance weighed heavily in the air between them.

Sam’s expression was near unreadable, his eyes searching Frodo’s face for something that Frodo did not know if he wanted the gardener to find or not. Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t care, Mr. Frodo. I love you scars or no.” He said softly, shyly, his face flushing red beyond what could be explained away by the harsh cold. “Different or no.” He continued haltingly. “I don’t care if you’re changed now. You’re still my Mr. Frodo, an’ I’d still follow you till the end willingly.” Sam murmured, gaze falling from Frodo’s eyes while his ears burned a brighter red than Frodo thought possible for a hobbit.

Frodo’s heart beat fast enough to burst in his chest, his eyes fixated on Sam’s lips, chapped and red and right there. He wondered what they would feel like against his own, then immediately shut the thought away, along with his eyes.

This was Sam he was thinking about like that, Sam. Sam the sweet, gentle gardener who tended to his flowers and offered Frodo the news of the Shire, who loved Rosie Cotton, who had wanted to settle down with a family of his own and had followed Frodo because he was just like that, loyal and brave and steadfast. When he opened his eyes, he found Sam staring intently at him with a look on his face that he had never seen the gentle hobbit give anyone before.

“Frodo…” he breathed, leaning in to touch their foreheads together. Their lips were so close now, unbearably close. “I meant it. I don’t care. I love you, whether or no.”

And with that, Sam bridged the gap between their lips. The kiss was gentle, Sam’s hand cupping Frodo’s face still while the other searched for Frodo’s in the dark under the cloaks, finding it and lacing their fingers together. When they parted, Frodo breathless and hungry for more, Sam’s cheeks were as wet as Frodo’s own had been moments before.

“Oh Sam,” Frodo’s voice broke, barely above a whisper. He surged forwards and crushed their lips together with far more urgency.

They continued in the dark, kissing and feeling and hungering until they finally came to rest under the starless sky. Frodo lay curled into Sam’s chest, an arm wrapped around his waist, the other clutching the front of Sam’s shirt loosely. Sam held the pale hobbit close, chin resting in a crown of dark curls as his eyelids fluttered shut. There they slept till morning, warm in the others’ embrace.

Safe in each others’ arms, even while under the shadow of Mordor.

And that night, the Ring was quiet.

[shortyouarel]

Stake Your Claim (Jamilmads)

*holds out a fic* can I interest you in some Jamilmads fluff?

The room was bustling, filled with high-ranking people from top law firms like Washington & Co., Regalien, the French equivalent, and Schuyler & Co., as well as some outsiders, all mingling and talking in the event space rented out by Washington. Thomas and James watched it all from a corner, sipping drinks (wine in Thomas’s case) and watching everyone. James, who seemed even smaller next to the 6’2 giant that was Thomas Jefferson, leaned closer to Thomas, who put his arm around the smaller man and kissed the top of his head.   “You’re so small,” he muttered, almost to himself. James huffed. “Am not,” he said. Thomas giggled. “Yes you are, Mr. Smaller-Than-Alexander,” he teased.  “I am 5’7, thank you very much.”  “You’re 5’6, James, face the facts.”     “Well Alex is 5’5!” James exclaimed, gesturing randomly in his exasperation. “I have two very small beans,” Thomas noted affectionately, hugging James closer. James sighed contentedly and leaned into him. “Alex is an omega, he’s naturally small. And you know, 5’7 isn’t that bad for a beta, you’re just really unnecessarily tall,” James said after a while, breaking their bubble of relative silence. “You’re 5’6, Jemmy, and excuse me, my height has served me well.”  “You’re an alpha, you don’t need to be 6’2. Share the tallness,” James grumped, although he was smiling. “If anyone needs it, Alex does, anyways.” “Aw, but if he was tall, his little gremlin anger wouldn’t be as cute.” James rolled his eyes.     “What?” Thomas said. “You think it’s cute too!” James didn’t acknowledge him, choosing instead to take another sip of his drink.

“Hey, who’s Alex talking to?” Thomas asked. James looked around and found Alex on the other side of the room, talking to some beta, ranting by the looks of it. Well, not ranting. He was gesturing animatedly, and he had that look in his eyes that he got when he was excited. Probably passionately explaining his new plan for the company’s finances. Inwardly, James shook his head fondly. Only Alex, he thought. Outwardly, he said, “I don’t know… I think that’s John Laurens. He’s a freelancer, so I don’t know him that well.”  “I don’t like how close he is to Alex.” James snorted. “You’re just overpossessive.”     “Not my fault I don’t like to share what’s mine.”   “Alexander can do what he wants,” James reminded him, although he was also feeling a bit of resentment towards Laurens as he watched him shift a little too close to Alexander.     “Well, so can I,” Thomas announced, and with that he removed his arm from around James and strode across the room.     “Fuck,” James muttered, hurriedly walking after him.

Alexander had seen his alpha coming in his peripheral, but continued to talk to John, who was listening attentively to his infodump. He didn’t really know the man well, having only heard of him in passing, but he seemed nice. And he was flirting, which was something of a hidden bonus. He would never admit it to anyone, but he actually kind of liked it when Thomas got possessive. He knew Thomas was quite aware that Alex wasn’t his in the way that society expected; he’d made it clear to him and James from the beginning that all bets were off if they wanted to control him and manage every aspect of his life like he knew other alphas did with their omegas. And they were fine with that; they weren’t those types of people. But Thomas tended to feel the need to show the world he was his when other people flirted with him, and it was pretty hot in Alex’s opinion.

Thomas marched over, heels clicking as he walked. James had pointed out that there was no need for the nearly two-inch heels when they’d left the house (Alex was already there), but now he was glad for the added height. Alright, he thought. Stake your claim. “Hey darlin’,” he purred into Alexander’s ear, leaning close to him. Alexander turned around. “Oh! Thomas! Hey!” Thomas smiled, looping his arms around Alex from behind. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” He let his Southern lilt seep in a bit, delighting in the way he felt him shiver slightly in his arms.  “Just explaining to John my plan to remodel the company’s finances,” Alex said, leaning back into Thomas. “Uh, hi, I’m John Laurens,” Laurens said, doing an awkward little wave. “Hello, John Laurens. I’m Alexander’s boyfriend,” Thomas responded. Laurens looked a little panicked. “Ah, well, hi, Alexander’s boyfriend,” he said. Thomas smiled sweetly at him. Claim staked. 

James sidled up to them, putting a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “Hey, Tom,” he said. “Washington’s looking for you, he wants to introduce you to someone.” Thomas looked a bit miffed. “Who?” James shrugged, leaning closer to Thomas and putting his arm around his waist.     “No idea, but you should probably go,” he said. Turning to Laurens, he offered his hand to shake, saying, “James Madison, also Alexander’s boyfriend.” Laurens shook it. Then he stared at them for a moment, the three of them all turned towards him, watching. Feeling very out of place, he nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you gentlemen to it. Have a good night.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Thomas!” Alexander whined. “I was making a friend!” Thomas huffed, leaning his chin on Alexander’s head. “He was looking at you weird,” he said. “Flirting and shit.” Alexander rolled his eyes but seemed to deem that acceptable, turning to James. “What do you have to say for yourself?” James shrugged. “You like it when Thomas does that.” “Do not!” “Whatever you say,” he said, his tone indicating that he still did not in any way believe Alexander. “Anyways, Thomas, Washington is over there,” he gestured towards Washington, “and I think that’s Philip Schuyler he wants to introduce you to.”  “Oh! Shit!” Thomas hurried off. Then Alexander was pulled away by someone, and James struck up a conversation with Von Steuben from Regalien. They spent the rest of the night apart in a similar fashion.

By the time the event ended and everyone dispersed, it was dark out and the cold was biting. James shivered, and Thomas, immediately taking notice, took his jacket off and wrapped it around James, who squirmed. “Thomas! I’m fine!” Thomas rolled his eyes. “No you’re not, Jemmy, it’s cold out and you didn’t bring your jacket. I don’t want you to get sick.” James looked to Alexander, but he just shrugged and wrapped his own jacket tighter around himself. “Thomas is a human heater, he’ll be fine, whereas you have the health and immune system of a sixty-year-old.” James hmphed, but resigned himself to his fate as Thomas called a cab.

Alexander climbed into the cab first, followed by James and then Thomas, who shut the door behind them. He gave the driver James’ address and they pulled away from the curb, Alex nestling into James, who put his arm around him and leaned into Thomas. They spent the rest of the ride like that, leaning on each other contentedly in the relative quiet of the night, the rushing of cars passing them becoming background noise as Alexander drifted off to sleep.

Thomas shook him gently awake as James unbuckled himself and leaned over to do the same for Alex.  “Wake up, honey, we’re here,” he whispered. Alexander opened his eyes, blinking blearily as the cab’s internal light turned on and Thomas opened the door. James climbed out, and Alexander followed sluggishly. He stumbled as his feet hit the pavement, and Thomas immediately caught him and picked him up, carrying him bridal-style into James’ apartment building. “M’ fine,” Alexander mumbled into Thomas’s shoulder. James laughed. “No you’re not, Alex, you’re clearly too tired to walk.” They entered the elevator and James pressed 17, standing back after the doors closed and waiting quietly, too tired to do anything but listen to the whirr of the elevator. Alexander shifted slightly and mumbled something incoherently.

Thomas opened the door to James’ apartment, the bronze “1789” flashing in James’ peripheral as he walked in. He heard a clatter as Thomas dumped the keys on the kitchen counter, and the moonlight from the windows illuminated the metal of the keys. He smiled, making his way into the bedroom, looking up when Thomas entered. Alexander was set down gently and immediately snuggled into James’ chest and fell asleep, sighing contentedly when Thomas joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them. “G’night,” James muttered. “‘Night, James,” Thomas whispered. They drifted off to sleep, none of them remembering or caring that they were still in their work clothes. 

I have no idea why I made it omegaverse, I did this over like three separate sessions so I couldn’t remember my reasoning or where I wanted it to go. But Jamilmads has really grown on me, so... ¯\_(ツ)_/ ¯

anyways PLEASE leave a comment, let me know what you think, I crave comments, they keep me going!

reblogs > likes every time

if you liked this, be sure to check out @the-m-archive for more!

[jasontoddiefor]

hey so for the emporer luke thing would luke eventually get to see biggs/meet him cuz they're cool

As if I could leave my second fave Tatooine kid out of any OT story! Read on AO3

Biggs Darklighter was fifteen years old and he still dreamed of going to the stars someday. He was a good son, helped in the household, and took care of his younger siblings, and would his parents ask him to stay, then Biggs would. If they’d let him go though, Biggs would seek the unknown parts of the galaxy, chase after the adventures he had dreamed of ever since he was a little boy, running around in the courtyard of his family’s home or jumping up and down on Luke’s bed, pretending to be a ship in the sky.

It was strange how easily he had accepted Luke’s disappearance when he was younger. Tatooine was a harsh planet, cruel to the bone, and the death of a loved one happened far too often to be unfamiliar with how tightly life and death were woven together. He hadn’t forgotten about Luke, had mourned his friend and joined his mother on her trips to the Lars homestead, but he hadn’t let Luke’s fate dominate his every waking thought. There had been other things to worry about, such as the suddenly escalating conflicts due to Jabba’s death.

Now it seemed like the exact opposite was happening to Biggs. He couldn’t keep his friend out of his mind. The weekly trips to the Lars homestead, checking in on its state and the refugees hiding there for the next transport that would them smuggle off-world, were now spent trying to see whether Biggs could find any sign of His Imperial Highness in the murals and carvings they had made into Luke’s bedroom walls as children. He had been there when they had found Beru and Owen’s bodies, eleven years old and wondering whether Luke had made used of his uncanny ability to hide away so that he hadn’t been killed too. His aunt and uncle had been half-buried in the sand already, left behind to rot without a proper funeral. It had been easy to figure out what exactly had caused their deaths and what it meant for Luke. In the aftermath, when the news of Jabba’s violent end had reached even the Darklighters, they had traveled to the palace and the nearby city once, trying to see if anybody had heard of a child by the name of Luke Skywalker, but nobody had known a thing.

And then, just a year later, Luke had appeared again.

The Republic had never really cared about Tatooine and neither had the Empire, but even they had heard rather quickly about the Emperor’s death and his heir.

The Luke in the holos had looked like a doll, fake and imaginary, like a wind spirit. His face hadn’t been any different, it still matched the one Biggs remembered, but nothing else seemed to fit, not his name, not even his accent.

And yet he had been sure that the child appearing in front of the Senate was his friend.

All that had remained from Luke Skywalker were his blue eyes, the blond hair and the kindness that had made the other children scoff at him. Luke had been too good to understand, to naïve or perhaps he just hadn’t cared for their petty words. Biggs hadn’t known how he could smile so openly when the others took their teasing to far, but Luke had never lowered his head, at least not where he could see it.

Biggs missed his best friend, the one who would help him fix up old droids and fly speeders and skyhoppers more accurately than anybody else, even though he really shouldn’t be able to do so. Luke would certainly have the time of his life now, rushing across the sands at maximum speed, the wind hitting his face so harshly it almost cut into it. Luke had always enjoyed listening to the wind, from the sweet breezes in spring to the heavy sandstorms towards the end of drought season. Being stuck inside with nothing to do hadn’t been too bad with Luke around to narrate what the wind was telling him.

The distance between the Darklighter homestead and the Lars’ Rest, as they had come to call that safehouse, wasn’t too large. Biggs crossed it quickly even in his slightly beat-up ride that could use an upgrade or two. As far as he knew, no runaways should be staying there for the remainder of the week until they got the next group through. There were fewer and fewer slaves in need of transport nowadays. Tatooine was still, as it had been for the last years since Luke’s disappearance, caught in civil war between the former Hutt slaves, freedom fighters, whatever good soul they could convince to join their cause and those crime syndicates who sought to make use of cheap labor. Where the Hutts had that thought they could reclaim Tatooine quickly following Jabba’s death, Tatooine had wanted to prove them wrong. More and more slaves had escaped every day, more people stood up to fight for what they believed to be right.

Biggs wasn’t allowed to do much, not really. His older sister and her partners were heavily involved in the fights while Biggs could only do supply runs. He knew they were important, but he itched to do something more proactive.

But perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

It had become more and more obvious that the Hutts were also a thorn in the side of the Empire and whoever was actually pulling the strings behind their Emperor was set to do something about it. There had been skirmishes so far, a few imprisonments. Nothing too large yet, but the horizon was darkening and if the last years had shown anything, then that the Empire didn’t tolerate disobedience. Biggs wasn’t sure how it would influence Tatooine at large. He didn’t know all that much about the way the Hutts operated on a galactic scale, but he figured that whatever took their attention away from Tatooine, even if just for a while, was good.

Soon Biggs was approaching Lars’ Rest and was surprised to see figures standing in the distance. Biggs frowned and slowed down his craft. He was absolutely certain that no group should be coming in today. The position of Lars’ Rest was kept quiet so that no slaver would discover this particular hideout. The only other groups that knew of it were smugglers and the sand people, though they hardly bothered coming down the underground tracks these days. They had decided to target moisture farms far deeper into their territory or, in the case of some clans who were not as isolated,  target the rich of Tatooine so the poor would cease trying to expand further into the desert.

Biggs reached for his rifle. If they were slavers, he had to be ready. It was obvious that he was doing supply runs, who else would be out here, and if they took him, that could be disastrous for the whole organization.

Tatooine was a horrible planet to plan an ambush on. Sand for miles, the open desert, and skies, nothing could hide you or provide adequate cover. Once your enemy spotted you, that was it.

Biggs could of course leave, drive back home. They didn’t keep anything too incriminating at their homestead, so even if they were to follow him, there was be nothing to be found there. And yet, somehow, Biggs couldn’t bring himself to do so as anger flared up in his stomach like the midday heat.

That house had belonged to his best friend. It was supposed to be a safe haven now when before its inhabitants had found death or worse. Nobody had any right to ruin those memories.

With newfound bravery and strength, Biggs sped up again. He was a good shot, the best in his family, he’d definitely hit them before they could shoot him.

As Biggs got closer, he saw that the group was larger than he had thought at first. Ten, perhaps fifteen figures. He had been confused because their forms had not been easy to make out with the sun bearing down on their light uniforms, no, armor. The armor was mostly white, but some patterns appeared to have been drawn on it. He saw the green ones first, their color standing out the most against the yellow and blue background of Tatooine. Then there some men with blue, orange, and red patterns, those being much harder to see. Biggs’ eyes were good, but not that excellent.

Nevertheless, he readied his rifle. It was easy to get stormtrooper uniform, and to paint it in the color of the Emperor’s guard was even easier.

Biggs took aim. He wasn’t going to shoot unprovoked, but he was going to shoot first if the situation escalated.

“Hey!” He shouted once he was within hearing distance. “Get the hell out of here!”

As expected, the armed men immediately raised their weapons as well. Biggs didn’t know why they hadn’t done that the moment they had seen him. Now that he was standing in front of them, Biggs wasn’t so sure his move had been the smartest. There were way too many of them and only one him.

“Move away,” one of the troopers, a red one, said.

His armor looked pristine, the paint new. This has to be a trick, though he no idea what somebody would get from parading around in trooper armor here. There were certainly more effective ways to pretend to have more power than you actually did on this planet.

“This land doesn’t belong to you,” Biggs said, forcing his voice not to waver. “Move.”

“Listen here, kid,” one of the troopers said, then suddenly stopped talking. Another man had put his hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned forward, probably telling him something. Even though Biggs couldn’t see their faces, they didn’t look too concerned by it all

“I’m not joking!” Biggs insisted and raised his blaster just a little more, set on using it if need be. “I will-“

“Biggs?”

The voice was barely louder than a whisper, certainly not above the noise the wind and the engine were making, and yet Biggs still heard it clearly.

“Your Majesty-“ The red trooper hissed, but in between the trooper’s bodies, a smaller form pushed through.

The person was short, but not as by far not as tall as the holos made him out to be. His hair had darkened as well, wasn’t the light blond Biggs remembered, but the eyes, clear blue, were definitely the same.

“Luke?” Biggs couldn’t believe it.

His clothes were far too fine for Tatooine, at least for standing outside where sand could easily get stuck everywhere on your skin. His robes looked soft and were decorated with gold and red lines interconnecting to images reminiscent of flowers and vines.

The boy's face split into a smile and he looked like he’d jump into a sprint if not for the trooper’s hand on his shoulder.

“Biggs! It really is you!” Luke said excitedly. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. I was hoping someone would look after the farm, but I-“

He cut himself off to shake his head, a gesture so familiar that it had to be Luke standing in front of him, brilliant pilot, Emperor of the galaxy.

Biggs hurried off his speeder and fell to his knees.

[nolongerironicteenwrites]

three years pt 2

read it here or on my Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolongerironicteen/works or read my other works too 

You put your car in park and sighed. Finally, you were home after longer than you wanted to admit. But you were happy nonetheless. Which meant you were finally going to address the elephant in the room with Neji. Instead of texting till three am you could finally discuss what you were. You looked at your parents' house in front of you as you got out of the car.

    “(Y/N)!” your mom called from the open kitchen window.

You smiled wide and you trekked up the driveway. The house was quiet save your mom’s washing in the kitchen. You found your way in there and gave her a huge hug.

    “Where’s dad?”

    “In the backyard, he’s doing some gardening and collecting the vegetables for me. You can go see.”

You figured unpacking your car can wait for later. You wanted to go see your dad. You kissed your mom on the cheek before going outside. You were thrown through a loop to not see your dad, but see your friends all there.

    “Welcome home!” they shouted.

You doubled back smiling before rushing to hug them all. You were overwhelmed. You might have only seen them like two weeks ago you were happy to be home. Even if it was only a little while.

    “We missed you.” Naruto laughed pulling you in for another hug.

    “We saw her like a week ago?” Sai replied, confused.

You ruffled Sai’s hair when a set of arms wrapped around your middle. You tensed up before smelling the familiar smell of cigarettes.

    “Traitor.”

    “For?” Shikamaru asked.

    “Dating my keyboard player. Smoking. Or where you spending time with Azuma seeing your godchild?”

    “The latter.”

You rolled your eyes and he let you go but not without rubbing his cheek to yours and pulling away. You huffed and backed away. You didn’t get far before bumping into something cold. A set of hands-on the back of your elbows.

    “You got a tattoo?”

Neji.

You spun around and checked out the inside of your elbow blushing.

    “I uh yeah. I have four actually.”

He looked impressed. Not deterred, he grabbed your arm and saw the grl pwr tattoo on the inside of your elbow. You and Temari have matching ones since you two were two women who basically front a band. You have three others. You have a paper airplane on the back of your shoulder, a galaxy piece on your side, and on your thigh, there was a storm cloud that under a UV or blacklight made the lighting bolt shine. Neji smiled at you. You heard someone gag behind you. You had the vaguest feeling it was Kiba. You turned around and pulled your eye and stuck your tongue at him. He hugged you and you laughed.

You spent the afternoon with your friends and parents until you were nearly falling asleep where you sat. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you let yourself relax against Neji. The night grew colder and the party moved inside. It quickly became a quiet night after that, movies and drinks and crashing on the couch. Well you crashed on the couch everyone else went home to Shikamaru’s to get their car or ride home. Neji once everyone was ready to go brought you to your bedroom and kissed you goodnight before leaving.

    “Are you going to ask her?” Lee asked.

    “Ask her what?” Sai asked guiding Ino to Shikamaru’s.

     “Ask (Y/N) out properly.”

Neji glared at Lee and pulled his jacket closed. He ignored the question which Shikamaru didn’t like. He imposed himself over Neji but Neji was just slightly, only slightly taller. Shikamaru crossed his arms and glared. Which in itself is nerve-inducing.

    “Well, Neji what are your plans with my best friend?”

    “If you must know, I like her. Clearly. So I wish to ask her out.”

    “Hurt her and your ass is mine.”

    “I don’t like you like that at all but I would never, I’m not Koma.”

Shikamaru gave one glare and then nodded. Neji waisted until he looked away to silently release his breath.

    “There’s your answer Lee. Be safe getting back you guys text the group when you all make it back home.” Shikamaru waved before going inside.

Neji gathered Hinata, Naruto, Lee, and TenTen and headed to everyone’s respective homes. He and Lee lived together, Hinata and Naruto lived together, and TenTen lived in the same building at Neji and Lee. Neji didn’t let anyone talk on the car ride back. He didn’t wish to speak about his love life with anyone anymore. Once in the comfort of his own apartment he let his hair down and groaned.

    “Neji- I’m sorry. You guys were just so cozy.”

    “Lee I’m not upset with you. I mean you were just speaking about what you saw.” Neji replied while pulling off his jacket. “She’s back for a year while some of her bandmates finish school. I have time but no time when I can’t even talk to her about my feelings!” Neji flopped onto the sofa neglecting to take off his shoes.

    “You could talk maybe Guy and Kakashi-sensei.” Lee sat by him.

Neji didn’t hate that idea. It would have been better than talking to his own father. Not that he didn’t want to, but he didn’t think his dad could help. His mom made the first move on his dad. But with Guy-sensei it was an accident with him and Kakashi but probably better advice than his father so maybe Lee was onto something there.

       menace to sobriety

the boulder

    Neji and I are home.

tippy

    As am I.

eyes

    Naruto and me too.

glasses

    Kiba is drunk on the floor of his house crying to Akimaru about the boy in facepaint?

fur culture

    traitor!

pencil ****

    Ino and Sakura are trying to dye their hair.

*eye roll*

    They’re getting along?

pencil ***

    sauske isn’t here to fight over. i'm on watch duty..

omnipotent friend

    dont let them make bad choices they’ll regret in like 5 minutes.

*eye roll*

     or you could.

omnipotent friend

    ill remove you

*eye roll*

    not ur chat

        fur culture changed the admin to omnipotent friend

*eye roll*

    im in danger

The chat died down after that and you fell back asleep. Neji laughed. This chat has bounced admin to admin and the nicknames change often enough to keep anyone entertained. Neji himself got ready for bed. Rock Lee stayed up a bit longer than him to do some work for his up-and-coming school week. He was student teaching this week.

The next morning everyone woke to a few changes in the group chat. You changed a few nicknames and the title

       the void calls me forth

gremlin

    (y/n)! how dare you call me a gremlin.

void keeper

    bc im not kiba and you will not bully me

pretty boy

    im pretty?

sai-duck

    i like this more.

fur culture

    I deserve this honestly. All though these were good changes. neji is pretty, sai clever pun and shikamaru deserved it. you should have been this admin from the start

whoji

    we told you that from the start, and two she came up with half the original nicknames

the boulder

    teenagers scare me.

You snorted and walked down the stairs. Kiba just accepted his fate. It was almost perfect. Your mom left you a note about her plans for the day. Your father was there for the day but he was engrossed in work. You ate something quickly and popped your head in to say hello to him. He waved at you and went about your day.

n. hyuuga

    Good morning. Can you meet me at The Blossom for coffee?

you

    sure. totally. see you in ten?

n. hyuuga

    Yes. Of course. Cannot wait.

You smiled to yourself walking down the stairs. Your mom was gone for the day. You could hear the television on. You popped your head in to see your dad watching a show about rocks. You smiled while he just read in his rocker the noise in the background. You leaned on the frame waiting for him to notice you. It takes him a moment before he looks up from his book and he smiles.

    “What’s up buttercup?”

    “I’m going to get coffee, do you need anything while I’m out?”

He shakes his head no.

    “Go have fun. I’ll see you later.”

You smiled and blew him a kiss. Walking into the kitchen you grabbed your jacket and purse off the coat rack. You slipped your phone into your jacket pocket and started on your walk. The great thing is The Blossom was a five-minute walk from your house. The walk, while short, gave you time to reflect. You thought about Neji. You probably always liked him, it went through phases where you liked him more than a friend, but then Koma happened. That six months of your life where Neji didn’t cross your mind. But now it all seems to be falling into place.

As you approached the cafe, Neji was already there. He looked beautifully aloof. You quietly walked up to him while he scrolled on his phone. His light skin contrasting against his dark hair and the bright red t-shirt and checkered pants to match. You honestly were a mixture of both impressed and intimidated by him. He always looked like he had his life together. You looked down at yourself and how you were dressed. You layered tights under overalls with a baggy sweater on top. You felt like you weren’t dressed well enough to compete with him. He looked up at you and smiled. He gently pulled you to him and kissed your forehead. You weren’t sure what you two were but you were content.

    “This is my treat, come on.”  He smiled opening the door for you, “I picked this place because no one would come here or neither do I think our friends care enough to find us. This place has chai lattes and oat milk which I know are your favorites.”

You smiled, cheeks becoming redder.

    “You remembered?”

    “Of course,” he responded. It’s because I love you. But he didn’t let her know that.

You held onto the crook of his elbow whilst he ordered. He ended up ordering for both of you while you had a small smile on your features. He ordered the chai latte for you and a simple London fog drink. You weren’t expecting that. As if he read your mind.

    “I had a small cup of coffee before I decided to ask you out. Do you want anything else?” he asked.

    “Do you want to split a coffee cake?”

Neji nodded. His eyes lit up like you hung the stars in the sky. You felt very on par with Neji, finally. You and he walked over to a table situated in the corner by the window. It was a kind of chilly morning for how early in September that it was. You rested your head on your hand looking between him and the window before you asked.

    “Don’t you work on Monday? Like a new startup position at a family-owned accounting firm?” You asked, smirking.

Neji smiled at your question crossing his legs and leaning over to rest his head on his hands, thinking for a moment to formulate an answer for you.

    “Yes but technically no. My days got changed because I’m going back to school for my masters so my uncle has me working sparingly.”

    “Your masters? That’s great!” you smiled excitedly.

He looked very bemusingly at you. He offered a hand to you to hold across the table. The two of you shared the cake and drinks in silence. No need to talk currently. The two of you spoke sparingly and worked on individual projects. You worked on songs and he worked on some classwork.

    “Neji. What are we?” you asked.

The keyboard clicking stopped. You felt your body tense. Had you pushed a boundary? He was hesitating and you were getting progressively more anxious. He started wringing his hands, but you quietly waited for him to answer you. Seconds felt like hours to you waiting.

    “I-I knew this was coming but I-” He sighed softly, “I was just trying to feel out how you felt before I spoke to you about me.” Neji explained, “(Y/N) I have liked you probably since I was fifteen. But our lives never seemed to line up. Call it destiny if you will always seem to escape me. I dated, you dated. I got scared of my feelings for you but not anymore I can’t. I don’t want to. I- I want to take care of you, and be with you and support you.” He ended up just muttering to himself.

Your heart clenched watching him. You smiled that he was being honest with you. Even though he was avoiding your eye contact. You reached out to grab his hand to get his attention. He slowly let you coax his hand into yours while you figured out how to respond.

    “Thank you, Neji for being honest with me. I know how you feel. You bore your feelings to me for how you feel. I accept your feelings.” you replied, smiling. “And I- I would love nothing more than this to work out. It would need work. Between music and you being in school again it won’t be easy, and I’m sorry for that. I wish I can be more for you.”

    “You’re perfect enough.” He brought your hand to his lips to kiss. “You are worth the work.”

Kiba was passing by when he stopped and did a double-take. He was convinced that he saw you and Neji but he wasn’t sure.

       the void calls me forth

fur culture

    r (y/n) and neji on a date?

ino-yeet-chi

    why would that be ur concern if they were kiba?

fur culture

    b/c im not being left out of this revelation once it happens like i was when lee came out. also i see them..

Kiba was squinting at the frosted glass window. Neither you nor Neji knew what was going on in that chat; both of you had your phones picked up. Kiba needed to know so he quietly snuck into the cafe and to a booth on the other side of the store from you two. Not that you would have noticed, either way, you and Neji were in your own little world. It looked like a date to Kiba.

       the void calls me forth

ino-yeet-chi

    KIBA NO. LEAVE THEM ALONE. SHINO GET YOUR BOY

        glasses has left the chat

Neji laughed to himself at something you said. He then leaned in to grasp your chin to press a soft kiss to your mouth. Not wanting to push you. Kiba could hardly believe it. He got up and slipped into the bathroom.

       the void calls me forth

fur culture

    Holy- DUDE

You felt your phone vibrate and Neji felt his too. You both grabbed your phones and checked the messages. His eyes shot up and scanned for Kiba keenly aware. You were confused. You also looked over the messages and glared.

    “He’s here somewhere.” you groaned.

Neji pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at you almost apologetically.

    “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. You grabbed his back and yours and pulled him from the cafe.

    “Don’t be sorry. I know where we can go where no one will find us.”

You and Neji dipped through the streets. He allowed himself to be pulled by you while you brought him to a home. He didn’t recognize this house. You explained it was your grandfather’s home, but he wasn’t home. You had a treehouse in the backyard that you wanted to show him. He was surprised to see this.

    “Whoa.”

    “I know.”

You climbed up the rope ladder and Neji followed closely as you went up. Inside the treehouse, it looked older but sometimes you still come up to be alone or to play music. Neji stood hunched because it was made for you who had never been very tall. He looked around and smiled.

    “Finally.” he groaned.

He grabbed your face softly and kissed you properly. You gasped quietly and he kept one hand on your face and the other on your waist to make sure this was real. You both needed air eventually and he actually started to giggle. You laughed and the two of you spent the afternoon in the early fall air laughing, stealing kisses, and being in each other's presence.

[blaster-aichi]

Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 22 things

forgot to post this, heck

Aw, cute shopping trip because they feel things are drawing to an end, barrier or no —  [gets distracted by the little girl who looks just like Shingo]

Given the topic of conversation, felt Emi’s downcast expression was a hint of bittersweet realization that her time with Shuka is running down, then get smacked with even ruder sads.

There’s something massive ironic about Majesty Lord being pulled to the antagonistic side of battle after his role in the original Season 1 and embodying unification between Royal and Shadow Paladins when things get dire, now faced against the both of them.

Ren taught Shuka ‘Bukki’, bless.

Very appreciative of the explanation why Majesty Lord was so importaant to Shuka to Realize, though curious as to why he wouldn’t manifest in the first place.

MISAKI SIGHTED. Please don’t relegate her to post-Legion Mate Quatre Knights of voiceless cameos.

Side-eyes Emi for picking cards purely because of their cuteness, your friend’s calling you out.

With the truth of what led Aichi to ruling Sanctuary, Emi’s moment of finding no alternative but for the blame to fall on him is very relatable; at least some of us have been grasping at any explanation because we couldn’t imagine Aichi doing this of his own will, it’s incongruous with his character, and Emi may have been doing the same, but with options whittling down, she’s been forced to face that scenario that this has been all by his design and it upsets those of us who have been trying to figure out any other scenario, but to her, naturally it’s world-shattering.

How dare you fuckers use the same sads track from episode 7 where she was talking about the Aichi she knew.

He looks so worn down and I’m so upset.    — Even his tone when speaking reflects his exhaustion and reluctance to deal with shit. Please let me hug him.

Is this the first time he’s said ‘Toshiki’? Feels like this is the first time he’s said ‘Toshiki’.

Even when they don’t meet, fate crams them into one another’s heads. That’s gay. (But doesn’t go the Legion Mate route and make it a clean injection, both of them have become tremendously distressed and pained and I scream).

Takuto, you can’t just say that in front of him?!

Emi actually draping Aichi’s jacket over her shoulders is so cute, she really is giving it a piggyback ride. After he mentioning it aloud how he left it behind, half-expect returning it to be one of her first gestures once he’s brought out of his antagonist role.

Takuto’s referencing Outside World Aichi brings back thoughts of the previous theory that IF Aichi had been doing all this in an effort to reach outside IF, why do you hurt me in these ways after that backstory, Bushi? At the same time, Takuto needs shaking if he had any inclination that IF Aichi would have the mental fortitude to cope with that possibility existing elsewhere after a lifetime of loneliness.

The poor boy hid in the shadows and hunted for Kai-kun just to verify Takuto’s theory and torment himself more, sweetie no... Considering his methods for keeping his very existence from the potential of breaking the IF illusion, it’s consistent, but sweetie no...

Takuto onto Aichi’s bullshit. The post before this clarifies, but his solemn delivery and feeling responsible for accidentally instigating everything, would like to hope he’ll be able to make a move in helping to rectify Aichi’s state.

Two things: You’re saying he had nothing to pass on through Miwa? And why did he never contact Suiko or Rekka before? Because there was no certainty they were inside IF? Isn’t it apparent they would follow once he and Kourin never returned? Did he even try?

Sad Rena howling noises in the background.

If Aichi is banking on her saving him, never let him know there was a moment where it all got too much and Emi gave up on him.    — She’s doing the Misaki episode thing again.    — Though it’s understandable the guilt she must feel; they might be correcting the timeline, but she’s conveyed her feelings before that each iteration of a person isn’t any less valid than another; though Kai-kun has come to terms with and accepted that there is another version of himself in a “proper” timeline, the same is essentially true for Aichi and Emi, who for all we know, could/will vanish along with him. It might not just be Emi sympathizing with others and not wanting to write them off as incorrect versions, but trying to validate her own and her brother’s existences as well.

Suiko and Shuka are onto the price the group are going to pay regardless; the preview isn’t subtle about it. Whether it’s Shuka having to move onto another place where more cards are waiting for her to rescue them or something more final awaits her, it’s difficult to tell. Though the former is simply a part of her journey and might not evoke the sorrow from someone like Suiko, it might be a sore spot for her, particularly with everything she, Kourin and Rekka lost, faced with having to watch the same happen to someone else. But Emi herself seems already be aware of this, she’s a smart girl.

IF 23

Squad goals. Squad goals.

Aichi looks ready to straight up murder and have to wonder who taught you how to pull those faces, boy?

If you’re going to be fighting in the area, please keep the babies safe from harm. Who knows what they might see?

What space-time commotion did you guys cause to alert all the other major characters across the city?.

On the one hand, more Majesty Lord Aichi aaaaaaa. On the other hand, that episode title, screams. (Now are you guys directing that to Aichi, Kai-kun or Shuka? Sus)

This take on the “They Never Met” story:

It’s taken a while for the fact IF is taking the route it is with the story to sink in; a lot of thoughts and feelings are still incredibly jumbled, but here goes An Effort.

As someone who's childhood has a lot of overlap with Aichi’s, it’s incredibly painful to actually see him endure it without the beacon of hope that gave him solace and the toll it’s taken on him to endure it. Having a loving family and a sibling could alleviate the pain, there are fond memories with things with my family that don’t make my childhood an unending nightmare, and it’s apparent that he and Emi were particularly close; though understand that by 16, he’s exhausted by it all, pretty sure I was.

I want to believe that he was able to find at least one other hobby to keep his life from being completely devoid of happiness; reading, writing, art, a love of animal, photography, meeting people on the internet, there has to be something. There are plenty of outlets that could have channelled his imagination to keep it from building with no freedom. The lack of clarification about what he spent his time doing does nothing to help this belief or deter the fears that  he really never tried to find anything, and really hoping that’s able to change before the season is through.

But something about Aichi’s reasoning really doesn’t line up. He claims to be doing this so that he be the only one who has to suffer. And really struggle to fathom how he could think so when Emi and Shizuka, would and are suffering with him. Emi’s own pain has been right in his face and he’s turned away, he can’t be that narrow-minded to think she isn’t in anguish or that forgetting him would magically erase that of her or Shizuka.

My understanding (or interpretation, headcanon, what have you) of Aichi has always been that his unrelenting kindness stems from knowing well the absolute agony of complete loneliness and hopelessness, so he acts to help alleviate or prevent the same feeling upon others. Vanguard shouldn’t have any bearing on that trait staying with him or not; that’s something within Aichi, not created by one facet of his life that appeared one day, particularly when he’s even more familiar with such a rock bottom, even if the exhaustion of it weighs on him; he’s always put on a smile and done his best for someone else’s sake, no matter the cost to himself — and that is what he’s doing, but it’s incredibly difficult to believe he can only manage that demonstration of kindness towards others when he’s connected to or aware of Vanguard.

I can understand Aichi being worn down, I can understand him being a bit hostile and reluctant. But to lack his good heart and throw everything away, to put his family through the nightmare he has been, I can’t understand that, it just isn’t him. He isn’t that dependent on Vanguard to be a good kid.

With how vital the event and relationship are to both Aichi and Kai-kun, to explore the possibility that they would never meet is fascinating, but this feels like a lukewarm attempt at it, at least in regards to what this episode covered and that in itself is saddening, it feels like an incredible premise with wasted potential, just like Legion Mate. It saddens me immensely that this is how they tell that story, more so when it’s the last one we might ever have from this cast.

Late-Bloomer PsyAichi:

The only possibility, and this is very much a last-ditch at this point, draws on ideas from Override (is there an IF plan in the works? laughs with shovel maybe since the day before epi 1 aired), so chances are these might be as swiftly debunked as other ideas.

With the rapid influx of memories breaking through the IF illusion, Aichi’s imagination’s shackles were released, according to Takuto. The result was Psyqualia overloading Aichi, its poisonous nature of the original continuity repeating itself as a result of festering inside of him for years without usage.

By retaining this nature, it amplifies Aichi’s fixation on Kai-kun, maybe through an amalgamation of other PsyAichi remnants in line with the original continuity who became overwhelmed by that obsession blinding him to the pain that other characters have experienced through their connections with Vanguard or the suffering he’s putting his own family through to see IF secured.

His mind struggles to contend with the sudden explosion of power and his sanity withers when viewing possibilities that he was never granted, reinforced by Takuto’s claim that Kai-kun’s life is better as it is, of Aichi’s strength in those other worlds, of longing to reach his alternative selves and feel his existence holds any value. He doesn’t truly have control over himself as a result of this madness, which is why he refers to Kourin by just her name.

How Sanctuary itself formed, there’s just nothing that comes to mind. Unless IF has special properties that just haven’t been explained that allow for more supernatural events to occur — like Sanctuary’s appearance, the battlegrounds that don’t inflict real world damage on their sites — can’t really wrap head around how Aichi was able to create it.

The original distortion’s root:

Something else that still doesn’t make sense is Shuka being led to Blaster Blade as a withering existence. And as Aichi himself never played a part in that, the past couple of weeks had had me suspicious of Nome, and other fans have been pointing fingers his way as of late. His disappearance in episode 1 hasn’t been addressed, and it’s odd for him to so briefly show up only to seemingly play no part.

It’s just a possibility, but he, whether tainted by something Brandt or sibling jealousy, tampered with the Akashic Records to lure Shuka in and cause the accident that prevented Kai-kun and Aichi from meeting, shaping IF Aichi’s life to keep him from deviating from a path that Nome had set for him, using someone else’s brother (and someone known to be a powerful force is let loose) as a weapon.

If Brandt has a part in any of this, perhaps he infected Aichi with it, to allow it/his Psyqualia/imagination to overload him when exposed to the truth beyond IF.

This is all just grasping at straws at this point because really struggle to see Aichi doing this of his own accord and I believe him to be better than this, I want to believe the writers do too.

[kindcstguardian]

MISC.

i. / basics.

Name. Lynn Darcy. Nicknames. Troublemaker, sweetie, Candy Birthday. Age. 17-23 years old. Nationality. French. Languages. French, English &&. Spanish. Gender. Cis female. Sexuality. Bisexual. Status. Single. Occupation. Student &&. part-time worker in Cosy Bear Café. Speciality. Finding solutions to problems that aren’t hers and, instead, causing them in her own. Hobbies. Jogging, boxing, taking care of plants, ocasionally playing basketball.

ii. / physical.

Height. 160cm / 5′ 3″ Weight. 50kg / 110 lb Hair color. Brown. Eye color. Green. Blood type. O + Appearance. A petite female with a slightly built body  ( at the moment due her newfound interesting in boxing ).  Long hair naturally straight with chocolate brown pigment alongside green eyes.

VERSES.

Main verse. TAG.  「 MAIN ／ Lynn 」

Highschool student, 17 years old.  As a transfer student, she is a bit clueless and lost at the beggining. However, she quickly got used to the institute and learnt every little secret of it. Still, this does not apply to actual people. Lynn does have a lot of friends, though, and is quite close to Kim due having her as lab partner in Chemistry. But she doesn’t get along with Amber, Capuccine, Li or Charlotte. Peggy is on thin ice. Ah but, ever so caring Lynn — she can’t help but always want to help everyone.

MCLUL verse. TAG.  「 SECOND MAIN   ／ Lynn 」

College student, 23 years old. Canon divergent.  Mostly based on what’s taking place in the canon of My Candy Love University Life — except that Lynn never cut ties with all friends and kept in touch with Kentin alone, she still has a hopeless crush on Nathaniel but hasn’t gotten herself involved with anyone, keeping everysingle friend at arm length. So, no route Lynn?

Third main verse. / A different outcome TAG. 「 THIRD MAIN ／ Lynn 」

College student, part-time worker in Kentin’s bakery, 23 year old.  She didn’t want to be bossed around by her parents, neither leaving the city she grew to love. In fact, she wanted her freedom but Lynn wasn’t having it so easy.   From a side, her parents had stood their ground but so she did, fully determinated to stay. They all bickered and argued, raising their tone than trying to find a solution — that was, until Aunt Agatha got in the middle and decided to take care of the situation.   After much talking and convincing, she persuaded Lucia and Philip. Thus, leading Lynn to win only one obstacle from the many that would appear in her road.   Happily that she got to stay rather than losing all connections, she first started to help Kentin before deciding what she wanted to do with her future.

Fourth main verse. / What if? TAG. 「 FOURTH MAIN ／ Lynn 」

Highschool student, 17 years old.  So what if she could see the relationship stats that she had with other people? Like, a visual novel game? Well, that was about it! It was strange but she could not see options at all, she had free speech ( thankfully ) which allowed her faster to either improve or fuck up further her relationships.

Persona 5 verse. TAG. 「P5 ／ Lynn」

Highschool transfer student, Star, 17 years old.   ‘ You have truly made me wait, I am known for being impatient, ma fille, but I will allow it this time ’ , the brunette fell to knees, holding her head while she screamed in utter pain, tears rolling down her cheeks while her eyes were shut, trying to somehow make the pain bereable. All background noise was blocked, overpowered by a female voice inside her mind. ’ You have always clenched your fists and withdrawn for the fight, doing little to nothing. Finally, you have grown tired; let us form a pact, shall we? ’.     The voice was right, Lynn had enough. Taking blow after blow, being ridiculized, embarrassed and tossed aside — being the stepping stone others needed to feel superior while she put on a show, the happy pierrot that everyone relied onto but whom never spoke a single struggle. It was time for her to realize her own worth and speak her mind, yell to the four winds her heart’s desires; to defend and attack instead of being a mere broken shield.   ’ I am thou, thou art I we cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire! They can bind our body and tie our hands but nothing can be done nor can shatter our will! ’, the hands that once had been holding her head were now on the floor underneath her, helping her to push herself up slowly — green hues had turned yellow and filled with such aggresive determination that she had never felt before. Straightening her back, her right hand placed itself before the mask that had manifested to existence, gripping it hard, she pulled away at once — blood running down her eyes.   “ We shall show them what we are made of, come to me Amantine! ”

Eldarya verse TAG. 「Eldarya ／ Lynn 」

College student, 23 years old. Absynthe Garde / Alchemist.  As a descendant of a human, her father Philip, and a fairy, her mother Lucia, Lynn is a faerie. However, she was never told about the truth and because of her clueless nature, she never suspected anything weird  ( not even when her aunt would show up in particular clothes which she lied that it was part of her job as a dentist not to scare children, including wings on her back as part of the costume ).  Which is precisely how she stepped in the thin line of human world and magic world, the blindfold had been finally removed. Currently stuck in Eldarya and unable to return nor communicate with her parents, Lynn spends her days working to win the meal of the day alongside an elf named Ezarel as an assistant for the potions he needs to create, but mostly errand girl: running here and there to provide everything on time.

Mystic Messenger. / MC1. TAG. 「MysMe ／ Lynn 」

College student, 23 years old.   Actually, Lynn isn’t sure how she found herself in Korea. Mostly, trying to be a good friend for Hyun and be his emotional support friend when he needed one given his grandfather had gotten terribly ill and chances were… No, no. She shouldn’t focus there. In fact, she should focus on finding the place her friend had indicated that both were staying at — yet, things rarely go as planned. Sometimes, the female felt that she was a magnet to problems. A message, an adress and a distressed person were the formula to lure her towards an unknown appartment in which she ended up locked. Stuck in a position of party hoster of sorts, Lynn Darcy chose not to fight her fate and assume her role. Kim Yoosung, Kang Jaehee, Hyun Ryu, Han Jumin and Choi Luciel needed her, after all. And God knows how big her heart is to leave without providing the needed help.

Shall we date? Destiny Ninja 2 + TAG. 「Destiny Ninja 2 +／ Lynn 」

Living in the Spring Village has been a wonderful experience since she can recall, to wake up everyday and see how flowers would blossom — new ones that would arrive because of the ocasional windy days and carry along new seeds for the view to change, take different shape and colors. Yet that lovely experience started to come to an end when the Yamato Island began to get corrupted. Was the story they told her as kids to make her fear true? All Lynn can do is pray and keep up with her training; she might not be an expert, but basic defense moves could safe her. Besides, her father had always taught her how to use a gun since possessing a sword was more of an honor, a lifestyle.

Shall we date? Blood in roses + TAG. 「Blood in roses ／ Lynn 」

It was a poor idea for a human to wander into a castle, but after having lost her family, the brunette found no better choice than try to find a temporal refugee. Much to her horror, it turned out to be the rumored Hotel Libra Sincera — unable to return nor escape because she had nowhere to go, she decided to step inside that place.   Truthfully, Lynn never thought she would use a Humphrey’s bottle of False Mist that her mother had bought to her at age nine in case something bad would happen to them. It was easy to forget about it but Lucia has insisted for Lynn to carry it at all times; and now, she could finally use it.

Wizardess heart + TAG. 「Wizardess heart + ／ Lynn 」

Student &&. buddyless, 17 years old, spellsinger. TBA.

Ephemeral: Residents in the dark. TAG. 「Ephemeral ／ 010」

Student, 120 years old, half-breed.   A lovechild from a vampire and a human, a horrible sin for all creatures that should have been killed hasn’t been that she was born with the strongest gen as expected, which is the single reason she had managed to survive thus far in the world were ranks meant everything.   However, her mother had been murdered by other humans as soon as it was discovered that there were vampires within their world — Philippe had returned with shame and head hung low back to his family. Forced into a marriage with another woman, a mermaid that grew to terribly hate Lynn going as far as to dig her nails into Lynn’s wrists due being young and beautiful.   To say Lynn was grateful to being accepted into that prestigious institution wasn’t enough, she decided to stay and live there. Refusing to return to a place where her stepmother wanted her head in a spike — yet, her secret keeps her awake at night, what would happen if she was discovered?

ANIMAL.

Main verse.

TAG. 

23 years old. WIP. 

Aggrestuko verse./ Publishing department. TAG. 

Office lady, 24 years old. Lynn Darcy had studied art history, however, she did not find many jobs suitable for that and ended up undergoing trainment to become a ‘desk person'—work in an office and fall into a comfortable routine for another year and a half.

TAGS.

「 Lynn Darcy   ／   𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓭𝔂 ┊ swcctlcve 」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ INQUIRY」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ MUSINGS 」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ VISAGE 」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ MANNERISMS 」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ INTROSPECTION」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ ROMANCE 」

「 Lynn Darcy ／ CRACK 」

RELATIONSHIPS.

DISCLAIMER.  I will not ship with the same character more than once unless my partner tells me they will no longer write said character and, therefore, the ship spot is free again. Please, do not force the issue.   001. Will you have exclusives?   If my partner and I discuss it before hand, then yes.   002. Will you have mains?   This will be more popular but yes, I will have limit of three mains.

KENTIN BRONSWORTH. ROMANTIC TAG.  ✘ · Kentin Bronsworth ♡（ ᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗˢ ᵇᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵃᵗ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁻ ⁱ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ） FRIENDSHIP TAG.  kcntin ; ʜᴏᴘᴇ（ φιλíα ） ABOUT.

RAVEN KENDALL. ROMANTIC TAG.  ✘ · Raven Kendall ♡「 ᴵᶠ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵒʷ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᵐⁱˡˡⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵒʳˡᵈˢ ᵃᵖᵃʳᵗ」 FRIENDSHIP TAG. ABOUT.

HAIDA HYENA. ROMANTIC TAG.  ✘ · Haida Hyena ♡「 ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ／ starryburglar 」 FRIENDSHIP TAG. ABOUT.

✘ ·   ♡（ ）

✘ ·  ♡（  ）

[kolbehq]

FILE // BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Aurora “Rory” Lindon.

Age: 28 years old.

Gender: Female.

Pronouns: She/her.

Species: Human.

Home Planet: Lysander.

Job: Medical officer.

Criminal Record: Voluntary manslaughter, conspiracy to commit an act of terror, criminal negligence, obstruction of justice, perjury.

Sentence: Life.

Faceclaim: Eliza Taylor.

FILE // BACKGROUND

Aurora Lindon should’ve had a perfect, beautiful life.

Her parents, both scientists of different disciplines, were transferred to Lysander before her older sister had been born. Their mother, Alexis, was feisty and stubborn, attributes she claimed had been positively endearing to her husband Alton, who was always the more level headed of the two. Adorably in love and passionate about what they did, Alexis and Alton Lindon sought not just a better life, but the perfect life for their perfect family. It was the opportunity of a lifetime for two Antigone natives; their affluent backgrounds simply eased an otherwise grueling immigration process, and seven months later, the first of the Lindon clan was born exactly where her parents wanted her to be, in the heart of the most breathtaking nature preserve in the galaxy. Aurora would soon follow, less than a year after her sister was born, and their perfect nuclear family had been created, ready to plant roots and grow - but a family of scientists should have known that nothing in space can grow the way it should.

It began with their father. The truth of what happened to him would forever remain shrouded in mystery to the Lindon girls - one day he went to work at the Chemistry laboratory, and then he didn’t come back. Aurora was only eleven, and more than anything, she just remembered going through the motions of what grief was supposed to be based off what she saw around her - shock, sadness, anger, guilt, grief. Blonde girls cloaked in black gowns, no burial because there had been no body, no closure because there had been no story. Even as she got older, there were no whispers from her peers or her mentors about what had happened that fateful day, what caused her father and allegedly three others to pass away so suddenly. There had been no alert of disease, no explosions, no fires - just poof, and her father was gone, leaving only questions for his daughters to inherit. Her mother was the most quiet of them all, a stark change from the woman who had raised them, and although Aurora was more than content with letting the dead ends die, her sister was much less forgiving.

The oldest Lindon daughter had become a teenage conspiracy peddler, sneaking out at all times of the night to do god-knows-what, and breaking almost every law an underage native could, the punishments for her infractions always just short of youth detention. Breaking and entering, theft of petty goods, hacking government systems, the laundry list of criminal deeds her sister had racked up before the age of eighteen was nothing short of shocking. Aurora couldn’t put enough distance between the two of them; she once had been her sister’s shadow, wanting to be just like her and their mom, but Aurora had come to realize that their father’s death, especially the sheer lack of closure, had affected her sister in ways she could never understand.

Adulthood was supposed to be her new start - with an inherited love of biology from her mother paired with the sheer intelligence of the Lindon genes, Aurora got into medical school with hopes of helping those who couldn’t be helped by anyone else. She loved a good puzzle, and diagnostics became her strong suit, although she was required by the Lysander government to have more than one marketable skill in her field - so she chose infectious diseases and the study of all things micro, inspired to follow in her mother’s footsteps as she neared retirement, although Alexis’ focus had always been plant diseases and viruses. Aurora didn’t make much of an effort to keep in touch with her family after leaving home - her sister was a lost cause, as far as she was concerned, and her mother was merely the shell of a woman she knew. It was selfish of her, but Aurora couldn’t stand to see the people she once placed on the highest pedestals fall before her very eyes, and so she left, on her own path to make a better world for herself.

She should’ve known better.

She had been working on a top-secret contract for a new biowarfare agent, originally commissioned by leaders on Antigone for the ongoing war before the project was hijacked by her own government on Lysander, most likely as a deterrent against any new colonization developments. She didn’t agree with bioweapons, but orders were orders, and she knew better than to not comply at this point in her career. Aurora walked into the lab one day, only to find the usual top-security safety protocols in place had been breached without a single security personnel in sight. She remembered what happened next like it was a dream, even if it was the subject of her worst nightmares.

Aurora heard them first. The chorus of wet, soft wheezing noises - the sound of men dying as their lungs filled with fluid - punctuated by a half whispered, half hissed argument. Rounding the corner, her eyes fell on her mother and sister, alone in her lab, covered in the burgundy splatter of drying blood, bodies scattered around them. Her bioweapon out of its safety container, held in the air like the deadliest trophy as her sister whipped around and caught Aurora’s gaze over their mother’s shoulder for the split second before she pulled the trigger, and Aurora watched a hole burst out where Alexis Lindon’s heart had been. They were surrounded by military police only a moment later, but of course, it was too late.

The official story went as such - after the mysterious disappearance of their father, the Lindon sisters did everything they could to uncover the truth about what happened to him. While the eldest did this in any capacity she could, often illegal, the yougest opted for a more conventional route to infiltrate the enemy from within. At some point, the Lindon sisters had discovered that the Lysander government had found their father guilty of treason to sell secrets of the state to an independent militia group on Hermes, which had been accidentally reported by his wife, who thought she had discovered a mole leak. This was enough grounds to deport him back to Antigone, where he was executed for capital treason. The Lindon sisters recruited their mother to aid them in an act of penance to their father’s memory - to destroy Lysander’s most expensive medical laboratory, where the youngest Lindon was stationed, using the very same research her parents had worked on. She had inside knowledge of the lab, the security detail, the weapon, and all possible exits. With Aurora’s help, they broke in to steal the bioweapon to be unleashed on the lab itself, but something in the plan went amiss, leaving Alexis Lindon dead and her daughters without an escape route.

This wasn’t even close to the whole truth, but the truth didn’t matter once the government’s version of the story came out. Almost instantaneously, the Lindon family were the poster children for anti-immigration idealists of Lysander, already milking the tragedy in an effort to remove any further colonization of the planet to protect the nature reserve. Aurora had literally nothing in her favor, including an “accomplice” who was more than happy to implicate her - her sister had disabled all of the lab’s cameras, looked enough like her that passerbys had assumed she was her, and had even programmed an incriminating amount of evidence into Aurora’s personal devices. It had been her fail safe, lest something go wrong and she needed a scapegoat, it had to be enough information that Aurora would spend the rest of her life fighting it, allowing her sister all the time in the world to roam free. Without their mother to testify another side, it was literally Aurora’s word against hers, and Aurora’s word apparently didn’t count as much. It didn’t help that the story of their father broke right alongside theirs, terrorism apparently running in the family. Behind closed doors, the prosecution was happy to give Aurora the plea deal she sobbed for, given how much circumstantial evidence they were relying on and how little she fit the criminal profile of a long time conspirator, murderer, and terrorist, they knew she might be able to win empathy points with a jury if put on a public trial. She was given a choice, and she chose happily - to escape the life she had been subjected to by the hand of her kin on Lysander as well as put as much distance between herself and her sister as possible.

FILE // CURRENTLY

Aurora Lindon died that day on Lysander, and Rory rose from the ashes to board the ship. Unlike many of her co-inhabitants, Rory actually enjoys life on an exploration ship, despite the whole “space grave” inevitability. As part of her contract, she is allowed to serve as a medical officer to the greatest of her abilities except in the presence of a raw contagion - apparently, she’s considered a potential risk for bio-terrorism, who knew? She’s mostly utilized for diagnostics and petty tasks, her “violent” past making some of her superiors wary to give her more responsibility. Although Rory isn’t happy with how life panned out for her on Lysander despite her best efforts, she’s trying to accept the things she cannot change, and is enjoying the peace of mind that has come with escaping her home planet once and for all. She especially enjoys being able to help people who cannot help themselves, her original purpose for becoming a doctor before the expectations of adult life muddled her path, and certain other people simply destroyed her ability to have a path in general. Rory is haunted by the things she saw in the lab, and has recently come into a bout of insomnia after her dreams left her more haunted than rested. Most days, she keeps to herself aside from polite conversation with her co-workers and patients. Rory understands she has a pretty “impressive” rap sheet despite her innocence, and she allows it to precede her for now instead of establishing a new reputation. It’s taken her whole life, but she believes she has finally learned she can’t trust or rely on anyone but herself, and she needs to watch her own back at all times, making her a little paranoid aboard the ship.When she’s not required to work, she spends her free time reading and drawing, though she often doesn’t share what she’s working on. If it seems like she’s a little spaced out, it’s because she is - after what happened, Rory feels stuck, unable to stop replaying and analyzing every moment of her life since her father disappeared to see if she can find the tiniest detail that could help her appeal her conviction and maybe set her life back to normal.

[svtnreactions]

“occult” CH.5 - BTS x reader

bts x female reader

romance / fantasy / action / etc. ??

word count: 4802

plot: after, accidentally, causing quite a disaster for your family, you land yourself in the ‘twilight zone’- a home for kids with more than human abilities. you’re meant to spend your time there learning how to control your powers. however, fate has another thing in store for you and your housemates.

well here it is... hope ya’ll enjoy ! <3

- cc

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Back at home, your other home, you spent a lot of time sitting outside. You’ve always loved to bask in the sun, even on the hottest of days, and it was one of those days around the Twilight Zone. The sun was beating down relentlessly and there was not a cloud to be seen. You were drawn towards it, you yearned to feel the rays on your skin.

Having been gloomy for the past week or so, this was a welcomed change for all. A few of the boys had followed in your footsteps, though Seokjin complained that it was much too hot. You pointed out that he didn’t have to come, which shut him up pretty quickly. You knew he couldn’t stand to miss out on any potential fun having.

So, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung dug out a soccer ball from a rather decrepit shed and proceeded to kick it back and forth.

Jimin was next to you, reading a book, as usual. The two of you were propped against a rather large tree stump to the far right of the yard. It was peaceful, despite the noise the other boys were making.

Taking advantage of the calmness of it all, you decided to rest your eyes for a bit and just soak in the sun. It felt like a movie scene- you could practically hear the pleasantly soft soundtrack playing in the background.

The truth was, you were tired-- terribly so. You hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in a long time. Every night, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, terrorized by nightmares you couldn’t seem to recall. It was like your mind had turned against you, plaguing your dreams with horrifying visions. Though, you had no idea what they were, or what they meant, you woke up at the same thing each time.

Blindingly white light in your eyes, a burning hot feeling running through your veins—

There was a loud yell from the boys, one you immediately recognized as Taehyung’s. Your eyes shot open in panic. But his scream had turned into a boisterous laugh as Hoseok tackled him and attempted to wrestle the ball out of his grasp.

Ever since that maid had seen you and Taehyung together that night, the two of you had become more awkward than ever. It seemed to have the opposite effect than your night in the woods-- it drove a wall between you. The worst part was, you didn’t know why. He didn’t try to spend time with you anymore, which made you sadder than you’d care to admit, and when you did talk it just wasn’t the same.

All you cared about was setting things right, so you tried to ask him about it. In the past, he would tell you what was bothering him after a bit of pushing, but this was different. Anytime you brought it up, he pretended not know what you were talking about, which hurt more than anything else.

Your night terrors were getting worse. Headmaster was constantly busy, and without Taehyung, you were beginning to feel the loneliness creep in.

“You really care about him, huh?”

You jumped at sudden statement and looked to the boy beside you. He hadn’t moved a muscle, eyes still scanning the pages of his novel. You’d began to think you imagined his words, until his eyes finally flicked to yours. “Am I right?” Jimin said softly but with a slightly impatient tone.

“Who?” You replied, feigning ignorance.

Jimin chuckled, shaking his head, “You know who.” Leaving his book open, he placed it face down on one of the tree’s roots so as not to lose his place.

You watched Jimin’s fringe blow back in a sudden breeze and felt your hair do the same. Immediately, you found yourself searching for Tae, half expecting him to be approaching you. But it was just Seokjin, running by to retrieve the ball. Unsurprisingly, he reached it with remarkable speed and went back to the game as fast as he had come.

“I’m probably not supposed to be telling you this, but what the hell.” Jimin sounded quite indifferent, but he had captured your attention quickly. He watched the boys, rather than looking at you as he spoke. “You know, the day after you came, Headmaster had a sort of talk with us.”

You cleared your throat, picking at the grass by your feet. You were trying to be casual. You didn’t want him to think that you were hanging on his every word— which you most certainly were. “What kind of talk?”

“You’re the only girl in a house full of hormonal boys.” Now it was clear where this was going. “He basically told us you couldn’t have any distractions. And that we shouldn’t try to pursue you, like-- well, you know what I mean.” You did.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and irritation. What gives Headmaster the right to speak for you like that? “Why are you telling me this?” Your eyebrows knitted together as you tried to push your anger deep down inside of you.

Jimin sighed, “Are you really that dense?” He floated a couple feet off the ground with his book in hand, then outstretched his legs and dropped into a standing position. “C’mon, Y/N. He follows you around like a lost puppy.”

You blinked at him for a moment, then he lazily pointed a finger towards the boys. You followed it, your face getting even hotter, “Taehyung?” Whether or not that was true before, you wouldn’t know, but Tae certainly isn’t following you around these days. Either way, hearing this gave you the sliver of hope you needed to hang onto your friendship with him. And it seemed as though that was Jimin’s intention, even though he acted so exasperated by the whole ordeal.

Jimin rolled his eyes, “I’m going inside. I’ve done all I can.” With that, he strode towards the back door.

“You’re going, Jimin?” Seokjin called to his friend. Hoseok took advantage of the older boy’s momentary distraction and kicked the ball away from him, as hard as he could. It soared through the air, colliding with a window on the first level of the house violently.

The sound of glass shattering filled your ears and Hoseok slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. Time stood still for a moment as you all gaped at the window, then each other, then the window again. “We were never here!” Seokjin finally said urgently, pointing around at all of you seriously. His figure blurred as he dashed after Jimin.

“Wait up!” Hoseok yelped, following Seokjin at a much slower pace. The door slammed shut behind them.

You jogged to the middle of the yard, where Taehyung was surveying the broken window from afar. You knew he could see you approach, but he didn’t look your way.

You used to speak comfortably with him, now you needed to gather your courage before doing so. “Hey, we should probably get out of here.” Your voice shook. If there’s even a speck of truth in what Jimin was insinuating about Taehyung’s feelings towards you, why was he being this way? Doesn’t  he know it hurts you? “I wouldn’t give Hoseok and Seokjin too much credit, I’m sure they’ll throw us under the bus for this if it’s a viable option.” You laughed hopefully.

“Yeah.” He said dryly, lifting one side of his mouth in a half smile. “I have to go talk to Namjoon anyway. See you around?” He didn’t wait for your answer before taking his leave.

You had to stop yourself from yelling after him. You were exhausted, not only physically, but emotionally now too. The sadness was evaporating quickly and anger began to take its’ place. 

With a newfound bitterness in your core, you stormed inside after the boys.

First, you heard the click of the maid’s shoes on the hallway floor, then the knock on your door. You let out a deep breath, bracing yourself for Headmaster’s summon. You were sure you’d be going with the rest of them, all because Hoseok just had to Falcon Kick that soccer ball.

“Miss?” The woman greeted you with a smile when you opened the door, holding out a stack of bright papers at you. No, not papers-- envelopes.

“What’s this?” You inquired, cocking your head slightly and looking at the pile with reluctance.

She held them out further, so that they were almost touching your chest  “Letters, for you. We’re so far away from town, they’re only delivered once every couple of months.”

You felt a knot in your stomach unravel at this and finally accepted the letters. “Thank you.” You said gratefully, before closing the door.

Carefully, as if they were made of glass, you spread the assortment of envelopes on your bed. Each one was addressed to you, in handwriting you immediately identified as your mother’s. 

You let out a deep breath of relief as you stared down at them. Since you moved away from them, you thought your parents had forgotten about you, or simply not cared enough to write. How relieving to find out that they had been trying to reach you all this time.

Wondering if they were stacked in order, you picked up the one that had been on the bottom of the pile. Inside was a postcard from your hometown, the kind you’d find in a local gas station.

Y/N,

You’ve only been gone a day now and your father and I miss you so much already. Please understand that we’re doing this because we care about you & the harder you work to get better, the sooner you can come back to us. We love you so much, Y/N. Please make the most of your time in this place.

-- Mom & Dad

You put the letter back with a shaky hand, a few stray sparks shooting out of your finger tips. Swatting them off your bed spread, for obvious reasons, you then moved to pick up the next letter.

Similarly, it was written on a postcard, but this one was from a town you’d never heard of.

Y/N,

Your father and I are staying with your aunt and uncle. We couldn’t take much more of that motel and we don’t quite have the money to rent an apartment yet. All in all, we’re doing fine. But we haven’t gotten a response from you-- I’m getting worried. We both are.

I hope all is well with you. We love you so much, Y/N.

-- Mom & Dad

The guilt of why you were sent away in the first place had come up once again, but it was overpowered by the happiness you felt when reading your mother’s words. You surprised yourself with the melancholy tear that dropped onto the paper, smudging the penned message. Sniffling, you carefully dabbed it with your sleeve, doing your best to salvage it. Then, you read the rest of the letters one by one.

With each one, you felt more and more reassured by your mother’s words. She always seemed to have that effect on you, the ability to comfort you on even your darkest days. You wished more than anything that you could speak to her face to face-- to tell her about all your problems. She would be able to help you with Taehyung. Your heart ached at the reminder of him, so you pushed the thought away.

Finally, you slipped the last letter out of it’s scarlet envelope. Your eyes began to scan the paper excitedly, as they had all been quite uplifting thus far. But rather quickly, you realized that this one was different. Your mother’s writing was sprawled and urgent, nothing like her usual elegant cursive. Steadying your trembling body with your bed frame, you read.

Y/N,

I’m writing to you in hopes that you get this in time to warn Headmaster Lee-- but please don’t worry too much. The war just keeps getting worse, as I’m sure you’ve heard, and the government is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for drafts. We got a military letter in the mail requesting your service. Officials have been coming to the house, pestering us, asking where you are. Whatever happens, please just stay safe Y/N. That’s all we care about.

We love you.

-- Mom and Dad

Your blood had run cold, your body completely rigid. Reading the letter over and over, you were in shock. You always knew you’d be drafted someday, as the war had only gotten worse as you’d gotten older, but you had been hopeful enough for this to be surprising.

When you were with your parents, you prayed every day that this never ending fight would be miraculously resolved-- that you would never see combat. In the Twilight Zone, so far away from civilization, it was easy to forget about all that. Especially because the boys seemed to make it a point to tune out news about the war. They’re always quick to change the radio or television station when it comes up.

With an overwhelming feeling of anxiety, you gathered the postcards back up. Stacking them on your dresser, you beelined out of your bedroom. Your mother had wanted you to warn Headmaster about this, which you certainly would, but right now there was only one person you wanted to talk to.

Scared and angry, you found yourself knocking on Taehyung’s door. Your knuckles were white from squeezing it into a fist and they stayed that way until it swung open.

But, rather than Tae, a much taller figure had answered the door. Namjoon towered over you, looking caught off guard by your sudden appearance. “Y/N, hi.” He smiled with unease, “Did you need Taehyung?”

You peeked around Namjoon’s form, catching sight of Taehyung. He was cozied up on his bed, staring holes into his comforter, avoiding eye contact-- business as usual. You felt the irate boil up like lava, retorting, “No, I was looking for you actually-- thought you might be here.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows, but Taehyung was completely unphased. You mentally face palmed. Why on earth would you go looking for Namjoon is Taehyung’s room? You were self aware enough to recognize that you’d only said that to try and get a reaction from Taehyung, which just made his lack thereof all the more annoying.

“Oh, really?” Namjoon had said. His expression changed to something more solemn. He seemed to know that you had something important to say— maybe he could see it in your aura, or maybe he really is just that intuitive.

You let out a deep breath, reminding yourself what you were here for, “My mom wrote to me,” You began, feeling yourself start to get worked up all over again, “She-- she said I’m being drafted.”

You could have sworn Taehyung’s gaze flickered in your direction, but if so, it was only for a second. Similarly, Namjoon only let a flash of unease show. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I guess they’re really reaching now, huh?” With a tight lipped smile, dimples showing, he placed a hand on your shoulder. The gesture was actually quite comforting, as Namjoon was someone you’d grown to really trust and admire. “I know that it sounds scary, but don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“How’s that?” You asked, feeling unsure.

Namjoon explained, “Headmaster takes a lot of precautions when bringing us here. There’s no way for the government to know where you are-- where any of us are.” He went on, his poised facade faltering in the slightest, “I mean, I’m of age, plus a few years-- I’m sure they tried to draft me years ago, but we’re totally off the grid in the Twilight Zone.”

At this, you were starting to feel secure again. But before you could let yourself relax, you remembered something quite worrisome. “My mom said she’s being visited by government officials. They’re getting suspicious. What if they do something to my parents?” The older boy stared at you blankly, as if he was deep in thought. “I think I should let Headmaster Lee know. I’m worried about them.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “I’ll have a talk with him, since you’re so worried. But I promise, Y/N, everything will be fine.”

You had only been concerned about your parents well being, but in this moment, something struck you. If the government is out looking for you, how could you ever be safe again? How could you ever go back to your parents? You’re evading service, that makes you an outlaw. Unless the war came to an end, which seemed highly unlikely, you simply couldn’t be with them. Your biggest fear since arriving seemed to be coming true, like a nightmare after waking up.

“Thank you.” You managed to get out. Your eyes were prickling with tears, so you looked anywhere but at Namjoon.

Unsurprisingly, he still noticed. This time, his reassuring pat didn’t do much to put your mind at ease. “It’s going to be fine.” He reiterated, glancing behind him momentarily. “I’ll go right now, okay? Why don’t you just wait for me with Taehyung? I’ll be back to let you know what Headmaster says.”

Not listening for your answer, Namjoon moved to walk out of the room, ruffling your hair as he went by. You stepped fully into the room to get out of his way, the door slamming shut behind you. Just like that, you were alone with the boy that had been avoiding you for days.

You stared. He blinked at his hands, his mouth a thin line. Earlier he had left you, saying that he needed to speak with Namjoon. It was nice to know that at least that wasn’t some lie to get away from you.

Blinking rapidly, you took one step towards him. 

The silence was heavy, so heavy that you felt your knees shaking with its’ weight, threatening to give. You seemed to feel every emotion at once, the sensation sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your heart leapt at the smallest hitch in the rise and fall of his chest. Would he be the first speak? To simply acknowledge your presence?

A small eternity passed just like this, but you had grown too tired. You felt yourself switch gears, your emotions taking over.

“What’s your problem?” Your bitterness was evident. You spoke with every intention, every hope, that the words would tear into him. You wanted him to feel what you felt, to understand how hurt you were. 

At this, he graced you with his full attention. If he was surprised at your outburst, he covered it well. He simply raised his chin, meeting your fierce gaze. 

“You keep pretending like nothing’s wrong, but I’m not that naive, Tae.” All your pent up anger was forcing its way up like word vomit. “You know, when I read that letter, I was terrified. And you know who I wanted to talk to right after seeing it?” Standing there knee deep in worry and anger and fear, the flood gate broke. You hadn’t meant to let yourself cry. And yet, there you stood, silent tears running down your cheeks, “You, Tae. But that was stupid of me, I know that now. I should’ve known that even this couldn’t make you forgive me for whatever I did to you to deserve this.”

Nothing.

“Just tell me what I did, so I can fix it.” You sniffled loudly, not bothering to wipe the stream of tears of your face. ”I’m mad at you. Furious, actually. But more than that-- I just miss you.” You felt like such an idiot, pouring your heart out to someone who wanted nothing to do with you.

Apparently, that last part was enough to finally get a reaction from him. That was all you wanted at this point, something, anything. Taehyung had slid off his bed. His expression was one you couldn’t put words to as he began walking in your direction. You had anticipated him walking right past your pathetic form, heading straight out of the room.

Instead, Taehyung stopped mere inches from you. His gaze was soft, eyebrows pinched together.

“Do you really want to know?” His voice was full of hurt, which nearly made you forget that he’s the one in the wrong here. You didn’t know how to respond, so you just held this purposeful stare.

After a moment, he reached down and grabbed your hand, a spark bursting from it. If it hurt him, he didn’t let it show. He only held it firmer, guiding it up until it was resting on his chest. He placed his much larger hand over yours and you felt it-- his racing heart.

You searched his eyes for some kind of answer. What was this supposed to mean? Your mind was going a million miles an hour, the skin on your hand burning red hot where he touched it.

After a small eternity, he seemed to give up, letting your hand drop. Tae raked his fingers through his brown locks with visible distress. “God, don’t you get it?”

You shook your head with uncertainty, taken aback by his intensity, “Tae—“

Suddenly, he was closer than ever. 

With the kind of wariness and caution usually reserved for bomb diffusion, he cupped your tear streaked cheek.

Then, before you could process his actions, his lips were against yours. They were soft, softer than you could’ve ever imagined. The same could be said for his touch, as he brushed your face lightly with his thumb.

Pulling away for a moment, still only a mere inch between your mouths, he waited for some kind of reaction from you. You watched his eyes flick back and forth between yours desperately. You could feel his breath on your face and smell his pleasantly boyish scent.

More confused than ever, but desperate for the contact, you closed the distance between the two of you once again. As a response, he cocked his head to the side, deepening the kiss. You snaked your hands around his neck and Taehyung’s fingers tangled in your hair, his other hand gripping your waist.

It was getting hungrier, needier. Wind began whistling in your ear, then it was all you could hear. You felt breathless, but couldn’t bring yourself to move back. Taehyung was all that mattered, all that you cared about. His touch set your skin on fire and his cold breeze sent a chill down your spine. He was the center of your world-- but maybe that had been true for longer than you’d care to admit. You just couldn’t get enough.

It was as if the air was being sucked right out of your lungs— maybe because, it quite literally was. As if he had realized this at precisely the same moment as you, Tae’s  touch disappeared. When you opened your eyes, there was a whirlwind of air surrounding you. But, as quickly as you had seen it, the twister evaporated. All of Taehyung’s belongings that had been swept up into it dropped to the floor with a sobering slam.

Tae had put a couple feet between you. He looked mortified, “I didn’t mean to--“ He said, “I just can’t control myself around you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, resisting the urge to touch your lips. Your cheeks were flushed, still wet from crying, and your lips felt swollen. The ghost of his touch lingered on your body, but it wasn’t quite enough to convince that that had really just happened. Had Tae really just kissed you? And had you really kissed him back?

“I’m sorry, Y/N . . .” He put his head in his hands. “It feels like all I do is hurt you.”

You frowned, wishing to feel his warmth again. “Tae, when you were avoiding me, when you acted like we were strangers— that’s what really hurt.”

“I’m just trying so hard to do what’s best for you, and every fiber of my being is telling me to go against that,” Your heart skipped a beat when the words left his lips. His beautiful lips. “I really. . . like you.”

You felt like a grade schooler again. The way your stomach turned when he said this, it made you feel weightless. It made you forget where you were, what you were. You wanted to say it back, you wanted to tell him what you really feel, but instead you said, “You’re what’s best for me.”

Taehyung’s eyes were glassy, but this brought a weak smile to his face, “I wish that was true.”

Rather than arguing, you brought up something that had been bothering you, “The maid that night. . .”

He smiled wryly at the floor, he knew what you were asking, before you even finished the thought, “I was afraid that she would tell Headmaster. That you’d get in trouble for being with me in a, uh, compromising position.” He sighed, “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Tae, it’s not Headmaster’s decision” You tentatively closed the distance between you and him once again, “It’s ours.”

He let out a deep breath as you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. With your other hand you reached up to his face, that frustratingly gorgeous face, and ran your finger up his jawline and across his cheekbone. You couldn’t help yourself but trace his features-- you’d done it with your eyes too many times to count. 

Your hand stopped at the top of his forehead and you raked your fingers through his silky hair. Turning your head to the side, you took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips, and then another. His response was immediate, as he reached up to hold the nape of your neck tenderly.

Then Taehyung gave a sigh. Whether it was with pleasure or disappointment, you wouldn’t know. He pulled away, whispering, “You should go.”

You pouted, feeling a bit rejected, “But I-”

“Don’t look at me like that,” He seemed flustered, averting his eyes to the ground, “Y/N, if you don’t go now, I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” For the first time in a while, the smile he gave you was genuine. “It’s getting late anyway,” Tae gestured loosely at the dark sky outside his window, “Go to bed and we can talk to Namjoon and Headmaster tomorrow, okay?”

Though you weren’t all that happy about it, you reluctantly did as he said. But not even your parting could squander the butterflies in your stomach. You were walking on sunshine the whole way back to your room, then laying on it as you tugged the blankets on your bed over yourself.

That night, it wasn’t your insomnia keeping you up. It was thoughts of Taehyung dancing around your mind-- his smile, his touch, his kisses. You were lulled to sleep by the images of him, drunk with endearment.

You’re surrounded by people. Swarms of them.

You can’t seem to focus on their faces long enough to figure out who they are, though you’d swear there were familiar figures among them. Your mind is moving too fast, your brain muddled and foggy.

The space you’re in, wherever that is, is blindingly white. You try to turn your head and get a better look, but a sudden pain shoots through your neck.

The sensation quickly heightens, becoming almost unbearable. Your knees buckle and give out, your body dropping so that you’re staring up at the lights.

That’s when your veins light up with a terrible feeling, one you’ve felt before. You’re screaming, or you’re trying to, but it’s like you’ve gone deaf. Then someone else is yelling, they’re crying out your name.

“Y/N!” You know this voice. “No! Get away from her!”

Suddenly, everything goes numb. It’s as if the pain became so much, your body could no longer register it’s sting. You can’t hear anything, you can’t say anything, or feel anything at all.

The panic is unendurable, your brain is pounding with it, threatening to burst--

Your eyes shot open and you were still staring up at the ceiling.

But it’s familiar, it’s the ceiling of your bedroom, rather than the one of your nightmares. 

This realization would’ve been comforting, if not for the hand you felt cupped tightly over your mouth. You twisted with fear, trying to free yourself from their grasp, but they pressed down your struggling body with their forearm. They were strong, that much you could tell, but their hold was surprisingly gentle. The rise and fall of your chest quickened violently.

“Don’t scream.” He hissed and you finally turned your head to meet his gaze. “They’re here. We have to go— now.”

                              << previous chapter - next chapter >>

[crisisdeltax]

Fear is but a moon revolves around Saturn 2

A\N: A mythical au where dbh characters are symbolic beings and RK900 “Fear” is on a mission assigned to him by his supervisor Amanda “Fate”, he has to guard a human. 

Chp1

Chapter 2

On Earth, Fear stood in front of the house where his mission will soon be born. Eyeing the neighborhood, he concluded that it’d be an easy task, to guard a human in such a quiet and hospitable environment, perfect for a mortal’s childhood stability; a good school close to the house, a local store at close range and a not so bad park nearby, what more could a mortal ask for in their short life?

“A hospital..”

A foreigner voice spoke and he heard it as though it was in his mind, subtle but sure. It sounded excited. Definitely not scared or cautious of him. Most unnerving of all it can penetrate his thoughts?

Fear was passive towards his unclear discovery. Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar and rather intrusive. He needed it to speak again so he kept his thoughts in motion as though nothing had happened for whatever that voice belonged to, his thoughts are no longer his own.

There is a charitable clinic in the town not far for a human’s vehicle which Fear knows the parents own, he just saw the father drive away in one.

“Ooh, you mean the cars? These are handy indeed.”

The voice intruded on his train of thought again and he frowned at its implication, not because it was undesired, but more because intrusion was not a thing he ever fancied.

“Don’t be so displeased with me,” it asked dejectedly, but the amusement in its voice was far from subtle.“I’m trying to help you.”

Enough games.

“Show yourself” Fear ordered, his grey eyes flashed in warning.

“What if I don’t want to?” Not afraid and still amused, it giggled.

“Then I shall make you.” He said nonchalantly while commanding his shadows to seek the intruder, yet whatever that creature is, it still wasn’t afraid of him.

Fear’s shadows are not beings, they are reflections of himself that take no form. They are able to smell fear in mortals. They seek it, feed it, and let it consume the poor mortal whole, if the mortal lets them. But if these shadows are not able to smell the fear, then their task will be harder but never impossible. For fear is as constant in every being as death is inevitable.

The intruder kept quiet, as if hiding. Does it think this is a game?

“Not at all, I have never seen your shadows in action, I’m quite flattered.”

Flattered?

“Ooh yes, for I have never been seen as a threat, let alone by the O' mighty Fear himself.”

“Then don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, am I not to enjoy being a fearsome creature of the dark?” It mocks.

“I hardly believe you are of the dark, let alone fearsome”

It gasped dramatically, before it giggled again “Well, you are not wrong…”  The creature paused as the shadows pointed behind Fear, his eyes followed meeting a pair of feline eyes.

Fear’s eyebrows arched a bit, questioning, as his shadows disappeared literally into thin air.

A cat?

“It was worth a shot,” it murmured, hurt, as it groomed it’s now obvious form: a black cat with eyes matching his own in color, its attitude however so very far.

“I like your shadows, they act like your personal guard dogs, it’s cute.”

The feline said in a dreamy tone while its tail kept swaying back and forth. It sat lazily over the ledge of a first floor window.

“As a lady though, I am hurt by you referring to me as it, have you no decency?!”

The feline, -lady- came down from her spot and stretched her body while yawning, “That’s not my real form, since Fate assigned me to your case, I have had this urge to remain a cat. I find myself very comfortable as one, I wonder if it has to do with compatibility, you apparently like cats, so you’re fond of me already—”  she spoke giddily and fast, like a child given a chance and has no one around to stop her.

He tuned her out, his mind making the connections needed to understand the situation fully, he should have expected no less from Fate, especially when she openly told him she had a little surprise, he didn’t expect it to be an intrusive feline though.

“Hey, I’m not just an intrusive feline. I’m way more than that.”

“A chatterbox intrusive feline?”

Fear didn’t need to read her mind to know his reply pissed her off, it’s clear in the way her tail tapped the ground impatiently, it made him feel … deeply satisfied.

“Offended, but I have a big heart, so I will forgive you. It’s obvious that I’m  the bigger person here—”

“I see no person here.”

“It was a metaphor, I’m not a person but I’m obviously the bigger one —”

“What are you?” He spat out impatiently.

“I’m a wish,” she stated it in a manner that made it look like it’s the most obvious fact in the universe.

“And not just any wish, I’m your wish. The moment you took the hourglass in your palm, we were bound,”  she spoke proudly, the last part a bit higher than the rest for the dramatic effect, Fear was buried in deep thought that he knew she has access to.

A dark being such as him should never carry emotions or follow their personal dreams and wishes. He fails to see the wisdom in Fate creating him a wish. Why would she send him such distraction on a very simple mission. If anything, this seems to be a hazard for his task. Perhaps it’s a test of sorts.

With these thoughts in mind, the intrusive feline jumped up onto his shoulder, sitting comfortably with her tail round her legs and head nuzzling his cheekbone “Till death do us part,”  she added smugly.

“Then I shall inform my brother immediately.”

“I feel attacked,” She gasped “I thought you are already fond of me. Seems like I have to make more effort, even though I’m so lovable.”

Fear gave her a side nonchalant look, which she returned with a stare of her own before she rested her paw over his cheek,

“You are quite likable.”

She winked before she jumped down and he could swear he heard a click with her wink that doesn’t sound natural for the entire feline species.

“I believe now is as good time as any for me to introduce myself,” she cleared her throat, “among my kin I’m called Wonder, and I wonder why,”  she giggled yet again as if it was funny before she composed herself and resumed. “Don’t worry, I know why I’m named Wonder, it’s because I wonder a lot which is healthy for my existence as a wish, to wonder always and—”

As she talked, Fear has made up his mind that he would take the matter of this talkative feline to the higher-ups. Whatever Fate’s wisdom is, whatever the bond between them is, this should be broken.

“ It can’t be broken, I just entrusted you with my real name, the higher ups won’t allow you—”

“Watch me.”

“Listen, you have to accept it. I’m a part of your mission now, that’s all you care for, right? I have seen your memories, your life is boring, I tell you, But not anymore since I shall accompany you always, my humble existence will help you reach for your inner self and seek to let go to your own wish, aka me—”

Isn’t she tired of her own voice?

“Of my own wisdom you mean?! How can anyone?”

“Have you lost your ability to be serious? Or is everything a game to you?”

“I can be serious if you wish me to be, as your wish I’m only compelled to act however you like me to act, and apparently you seem to wish for a talkative intrusive feline companion.”

Fear has never heard anything more ridiculous or confusing in his existence. If this thing is actually his wish and she is compelled to be what he wants her to be then he wished for her to disappear.

“Do you have a name with which you would have me address you?” She asked and Fear wasn’t sure if she was mocking his earlier thoughts or sincerely asking. Didn’t she know who he is? Wasn’t she the one who can access his memories and read his thoughts?

“I know you are Fear but this is your title not your name, same as I’m a wish,” she waited for his reply but it was quiet and his thoughts were blank so there was nothing for her to read.

“Then I shall call you Nines.”

Nines?

“Yes, you are the ninth of your title, all eight before you have perished. Also I felt attracted to call you that which means you probably wish to be called that and—”

“It’s not even a name.”

“And you call me intrusive, you have been interrupting me for the past ten minutes I can barely speak. And no, Nines is a beautiful name and it fits you, since now we have shared our names, our bond will last to the moon and back, to hell and beyond, to heaven and above—”

Fear was becoming used to tuning her out by now as if she is some background noise he can’t seem to turn off. He really has to take this matter to the higher-ups.

“Come on Nines, let’s investigate the house where our little baby human is gonna be born. We have to make sure it’s safe for our baby to grow healthy. Your mission is my mission, if you die, I die and I quite like life unlike you—” she kept on chattering as she made her way to the house.

Maybe the higher-ups will have to wait a little for the intrusive feline was right for once, he needs to see the house. Silently with a subtle frown, Fear followed his little wish.

A\N: I didn’t want to add an OFC but I couldn’t find anyone in the dbh fandom who share the same personality as Wonder, I mean I thought about Chloe or Daniel or even Ralph but I couldn’t feel it, you can also consider Wonder as you/reader if you would like, either-way I hope you guys like this one and hope it made u smile. Thanks for reading thus far.Special thanks for @the-darklings your reply alone motivated me, hope u like.

[edennohebi]

the haze had proven itself to live up to the often applied nickname of hell time & time again; & yet, you had adjusted. you had found a way to exist here, if only by the skin of your teeth. though the serpents were cruel & monstrous, & some of those around you were less than stable -- maybe, just maybe, you could survive & things would go on without too much disturbance.

for that, saeru would laugh & call you an ill-bred fool: a prisoner who had grown far too comfortable in their prison, & needed to be reminded of their place.

it seemed that this would serve as your wake up call to their reality. things had carried on as they usually had in the haze -- up until all of the television sets had begun to flicker alive. previously they had been filled to the brim with nothing more than static: the wash of scrambling grey & the scratching-like noise had been enough fuel to make the ears wary & your sense of intuition slightly unsettled. but it had been nothing more than fuzz, right? it could have been easily ignored; but today, the snakes would not allow such. 

their only use was for that of the snakes & they had never been a good sign. immediate apprehension twists in your core, & your hands feel clammier -- your eyes had no choice: it was not a matter of wanting or not wanting to, the hushed whispers in your ears of the snakes would force you to focus on it until they decided you could stop. every passing second in this never-moving world was torturous, but soon, the screen would twist & shift into focus. however, it was not one of the lesser snakes who appeared on the screen, but the queen & 'king' themselves seated upon their respective thrones.

though neutral in demeanor at first, once the camera locks onto clearing eyes himself his expression tears into a grin: whatever hope that had sat in your heart would soon be torn to shreds.

“my my -- what a magnificent sight to behold ! nothing pleases me more than to see you all stricken with such lost & hopeless expressions: like meager lambs, led along to their untimely massacre. ” he breathes a chuckle, & a sickening tremble teeters into his words -- ‘enjoying it’ was an understatement. “ wonderful, wonderful ! ”

he hums to himself, lids lowered coquettishly. “ of course, your curiosity must be maddening, hm? how you must be starving for answers -- wondering to yourselves, 'what’s this all about?', or perhaps, 'is this the end?' aahh -- please, do continue on with your endless queries ! after all, only i can grant you the knowledge you so seek. you have wandered into a garden, & i shall bestow-- ”

from the background, a voice belonging to none other than the jackal rings higher than saeru’s, excited & growing louder, much to his displeasure. ‘ papa! i wanna do it -- i wanna do it!!! ’ 

before she can be denied, the camera angle is pulled, &. the demonic canine now stares directly into the lens.

‘ what papa was saying is that things are going to really start picking up! everybody seemed to be getting kinda relaxed about the idea of dying, & i guess it’s because you all got used to the idea that mama could just bring you back, all nice & pretty, right? unfortunately for you, that’s starting to get a little annoying, now, so it won’t be happening anymore. you stupid humans shouldn’t forget that even though mama was gracious enough to give, she can just as easily take away. since all of you seem to need a lesson, in it, consider this chapter one! ’

‘ because everyone is just fine with losing their lives all the time, every one of you is going to start losing your senses, too -- some of you won’t be able to see in front of you, or hear who’s approaching from behind. some of you won’t be able to feel it when someone touches you, or have the pleasure of smelling or tasting your next meal. for some of you, that might be easier, & you can live without it. for someone else, though, maybe they’ll be bothered enough that they’ll finally kill someone on their own terms & stop waiting for it to be something as small as a dare? ’

‘ either way, it’s going to get worse the longer you make us wait for someone to kill somebody else, & if you keep doing it in those little games to make sure mama can bring you back, maybe she’ll just stop making everything work right, on your body? i sure hope you’ll be okay trying to run away from your next killer with a clubbed foot, or hold a weapon with fingers that won’t close around the hilt! ’

‘ & for the first person who doesn’t keep us waiting, if you’d like to stir up the pot some more, & make everyone really hate & fear you, we wanna offer a little reward. if you really want to get back to your happy little lives, or to your friends & families, make it a point to come straight to us, so we can go ahead & let everyone know who decided they couldn’t take it, anymore! ’

‘ kekeke..that said, you should probably hurry. someone else might have the same ideas as you, now, & that just means the clock is ticking. ’

before the jackal can continue on further with her rambling, a hand is quick to grab a fistful of her shirt. off the ground she goes, akin to a cat picked up by it’s scruff, & is soon deposited into the queen’s lap with a hiss of "children should only speak when told to, brat."

‘ ppft ... ’

there’s a distinct click of the tongue as clearing eyes comes back into view, expression marginally soured. but he’ll continue: such is his job.

“ what a tragedy, ” there’s a false lament in his tone, uncaring entirely, “ for you to have been fed false information. the child only speaks in half-truths: error laces itself so easily into the words of the unknowing & the idiotic. you see, to assume her Majesty holds any mercy for your pitiful lives at all is rather bold -- stupidly so. gorge yourself on the rush of blood lust & adrenaline if you so wish. it’s quite the spectacle, but ah -- do not expect things to continue on as they had. ”

a hint of a smirk plays on his lips.

“ after all, you had killed so ruthlessly with security, had you not? the assurance that death here was not permanent, that your fates lied at the Queen’s fingertips, & so long as someone died, they would return. ” a snorted ‘how stupid’ follows suit, “ it would be no fun at all, right? imagine: suffering the consequences for your actions & facing the throes of guilt! ”

he laughs.

“ imagination is a useless thing. a pitiful realm of fantasy holds no weight here; instead, you must face your reality. allow me to explain: if you are harmed, our hands will no longer heal. survival is something you must fight tooth & nail for: not something simply handed over. further more, if you are to kill, i advise you be aware of the consequences. prophets once spoke of a belief -- ‘an eye for an eye’, was it? those who kill unashamedly before a crowd will be killed in return -- by my hand. understand?  ”

“ ah, & one more thing. i'm sure none of you wish to be without your most valued of senses. animals who are crippled, after all, are nothing more than easy prey. " he hums. " if you desire them once more, then you must commit murder: & get away with it effortlessly. pure & simple. if you cover your tracks, then you shall be guided towards the gates of freedom: but if you are to fail, then you must pay for your foolishness & mistakes as aforementioned. but the risk is well worth a chance of livelihood again," his head tilts, eyes narrowing in tease. " isn't it? ”

he sits back, though his hand seems to stay within immediate eye-shot. the Queen & Ellen are within view, too: though the Queen’s gaze is fixated upon the screen, her hand runs idly through ellen’s hair, perhaps in pacification. even so, all of their smiles hint at sadism, & the unison in their ‘farewell’ fails to bode well. a moment passes, & the screen becomes void of their image; only leaving you with your thoughts & the mind numbing sound of static on the televisions once more. they have thrown you to the dogs, & now they will serve as spectators in your suffering.

                          WELCOME TO THE NEXT TRAGEDY                                                                   ( The Story of Eyes Rendered Sightless )

UPDATES :

✘ welcome to the first chapter! this one is considerably longer than all the future ones to both get players used to the format and accommodate for upcoming holidays.  ✘ as allured to, characters will lose one of their five senses as result of the queen’s power. we've used RNG to decide what muses lose what sense, and you can find that under the READ MORE below. please note that these senses will be returned once someone is killed and a body drop post is made . ✘ for reference, characters who lost SIGHT are completely blind and extremely vulnerable as potential victims, characters who lost TASTE have a constant taste of lead in their mouth that will not go away as they cannot taste other flavors, characters who lost TOUCH are completely numb and can not feel ANYTHING -- including pain, characters who lost their HEARING are completely deaf and easy to sneak up on, and characters who lost their SMELL just simply cannot take in any aromas. there is a sixth handicap, but such is reserved for the Old Master as you’ll see below. if FOR SOME REASON your muse’s name is not in the list, let a mod know and we’ll add it. ✘ this ALSO means that WE ARE NOW ACCEPTING MURDERER / VICTIM VOLUNTEERS . please message a mod or send an ask if you wish to volunteer, and do not tell ANYONE if you did and whether you were or were not accepted. ✘ you may no longer kill each other in games of truth or dare, kings game, etc. if you do, the murderer WILL be killed by saeru. you MAY injure each other to your heart’s content without punishment, however, but if you go too far and someone dies, your muse will be held accountable. ✘ further, wounds attained from truth or dare will NO LONGER BE HEALED. you may only buy a medkit or hope to god you get medical supplies from the raffle, otherwise you’re on your own.

Shintaro Kisaragi | TOUCH

Toko Fukawa | SMELL

Hiyori “Ice Queen” Asahina | HEARING

Hiyori “Hiyo” Asahina | SIGHT

Samael | SMELL

Tsubomi Kido | SIGHT

Shuuya Kano | SMELL

Elodie Masters | SIGHT

Satou Matsuzaka | TOUCH

Marry Kozakura |  THE ABILITY TO SPEAK

Katherine Baker | HEARING

Henry "Stein" Dobbs | SMELL

Ayano “Charlatan” Tateyama | SIGHT

Kousuke "Amata" Seto | HEARING

Haruka "Pompompurin" Kokonose | TASTE

Vincent Nightray | TOUCH

Ayano “Aya-nee” Tateyama | SMELL

Korekiyo Shinguji | TOUCH

Magdalena Parks | HEARING

Meredith Dacosta | TOUCH

Rachel Devore | SMELL

Uta | TASTE

Rantaro “Ran” Amami | HEARING

Momo Kisaragi | TOUCH

Hisashi "Usagi" Yoshida | SIGHT

Tempo | SMELL

Rosaline Viviani  | TOUCH

Ayano "Nee-Nee"Tateyama | SMELL

Azami | THE ABILITY TO SPEAK

Tsukihiko Kozakura | SIGHT

Shion Kozakura | HEARING

Tomoyo Daidouji | SIGHT

Valentine Damis | TOUCH

Kousuke “Kose” Seto | SIGHT

Momoka Oginome | HEARING

Satou’s Aunt | SMELL

Kitaumekawa Daichi | TOUCH

Charlotte Wiltshire | TOUCH

Kurogane | HEARING

Yue | SIGHT

Touma Kozakura | HEARING

Rin Kido | SIGHT

Garven | HEARING

Frisk | SMELL

Renji Yomo | TASTE

Ian Ortega | SIGHT

[spoonie-ritsu]

yall know i cant resist

another bloodborne au fic thing featuring everyone’s favorite telepath based on details from this lovely lil thing

They came for him in the night, unexpected.

He didn’t see his parents in the house before they dragged him away, kicking and screaming, unaware that it was his last chance to ever see them alive again. The remaining villagers stayed put in their huts. No one dared to come outside and help him. He was alone.

The cathedral he found himself in was large, winding and unfamiliar, twisting and turning in ways that made little sense to him, but the followers of the church had no trouble navigating the bleary corridors. He was shaking, both from the immense chill in the air and his own overwhelming fear.

He met the leader of the church that night - the Church of Mensis - a bizarre and terrifying man named Micolash, who erratically recounted to him myths and legends of higher beings and something about stars or cosmos or whatever. He didn’t understand a single word to pass his lips, and frankly, he didn’t want to. The man sounded absolutely, irredeemably insane.

But then he said something about him being “chosen”, “gifted sight by the Great Ones”, and suddenly he felt ill as his situation became apparent.

For whatever reason, these people thought him important to their beliefs. They wanted to use him. And he was powerless to refuse. He had always, always been powerless to refuse.

-*-

Time slipped away, like sand between his fingers, like the little remnants of sanity he had left. It had quickly become apparent that they were right about him after all.

He wasn’t powerless, not completely. In fact, he possessed a peculiar ability, something he had only ever heard if spoken in stories or song. Something the Church of Mensis honored him for, and something he himself could only see as a miserable curse cast upon him by whatever cruel deity that watched over them all.

He hadn’t even noticed before they told him so, but he could see things that nobody else could. Dark, slimy creatures that watched them from the shadows, spider-like beasts that clung to buildings and observed with vacuous eyes. Eyes, eyes, eyes, everywhere he looked there were a dozen more looking back, in the walls and on the floor and on the head of the roasted boar that was served for dinner that night. Watching, watching, he was always being watched, his every move carefully followed, leaving him so jumpy and paranoid that he could hardly sleep a wink at night.

He heard sounds, sometimes. Most common was the strange, disembodied cry of a baby, echoing through the forest and the halls of the church. It disturbed him greatly at first, moreso that none of the church members seemed to even acknowledge the sound, but after a while it simply became another part of his life. Just background noise, like static. On more rare occasions, he could hear music- and that, he actually enjoyed. It was so quiet in the church, deathly quiet, and the gentle plucking of strings and keys would soothe his frazzled mind. Although it was by no means an ordinary song. It stuck to him as he slept, filling his dreams with stars and the silhouettes of horrifying beasts against a blood red moon.

They had him read tomes filled with nonsense, ancient writings, and the words filled his head with cotton. Eventually, it got to him. The words started to make sense, and it didn’t scare him as much as he knew it should.

Micolash would test him, in his own convoluted ways. He said his ability had something to do with Insight; the capacity of a person’s mind to hold the knowledge of the “Great Ones”. The tomes they had him read contained snippets of this knowledge, and as he continued to process the information, his Insight increased. He gained a new power.

He hadn’t meant to do it, he really hadn’t. He had finished his book and something felt wrong, a squirming sensation in his head, the scent of iron in his nose. He closed his eyes to stave off the ache that grew behind them and for an instant he slipped away. Fallen asleep from exhaustion, he thought. He jerked back to attention, shaking the fatigue from his head, and as he looked around, the church members that had been observing him were all lying on the floor, writhing and clawing at their heads, trapped in a horrible nightmare.

A nightmare of his own creation.

Micolash had applauded him, as he collapsed in horror of what he had done. He had grown powerful enough to create his own dreams, the man explained, and he had implanted one such dream into the minds of those around him. He asked, in a feeble, shaky voice, how he could stop it, how he could free them from the dream he’d accidentally forced upon them.

Micolash had looked at him blankly for several moments before erupting in laughter. “Free them? Why free them from such a wonderful gift?!”

He clutched his head in his hands and cried, for the first time in years.

-*-

Not long after his 19th birthday, Micolash came to him with a wide grin, a glint in his eyes, and he was immediately suspicious.

They led him to a room he had never been to before, a hidden room at the very bottom of the cathedral, deep underground. The cold chilled him to the bone, to the point that even his blood felt frozen stiff in his veins, making every step forward a laborious effort. Micolash seemed excited about whatever was behind that inconspicuous door.

Micolash opened the door. He recoiled instantly as a terrible stench hit him, taking a step back in horror as he recognized the scent of rotting flesh.

It was a long room, almost a corridor, lined wall to wall with corpses, all seated in chairs with some sort of strange metal cage on their heads. At the end of the room, a single chair sat empty. Waiting. Watching. The walls had eyes.

Micolash ushered him inside before he could run away. Every inch of him was screaming to get out, to fight his way out of the man’s grip and run far away, away from him and the Church of Mensis and the confines of the village that had previously been his home. But his blood was frozen, and he couldn’t move.

Micolash was rambling on, as usual. His words rang hollow in his ears. Not hollow enough to obscure the meaning behind them, unfortunately.

He wanted him to create a dream. A nightmare. A nightmare he would project onto the entirety of Yharnam. Every living thing for miles would see his dream, the nightmare he would create and maintain from this lonely room full of death and forgotten dreams.

He felt sick to his stomach. This was their plan all along - this was their end goal from the start, the purpose of all of the tests and training they put him through for nearly a decade. This was the pinnacle of their hard work. He felt powerless all over again in the hands of Micolash of the Church of Mensis, who steered him forward and sat him down in the dusty old chair at the end of the room and brandished the cage he had been carrying in a satchel at his side. The look in his eyes was the look of a broken man, a man who had nothing to lose and everything to gain as he lifted the cage up and over his head and placed it down so it rested on his shoulders.

The eyes grew lips to laugh at him as he screamed. It hurt, more than anything he’d ever felt before, it burned his eyes and his ears, he heard the voices of the corpses on the wall shouting at him, telling him to accept his fate, to play the role forced upon him. His frozen blood began to boil over, and he frantically tried to reach for his face, to take the cage off of his head, to wipe the blood out of his eyes, but it was hard to coordinate his movements when all he could see were the cosmos and thousands of eyes and the red moon that loomed over it all.

Beneath it all, he felt it. The few, fleeting pieces of his conscience, his personality. The real him, the real Momozou Takenaka, who was sick and tired of being used by this crazy bastard and his crazy church and he wasn’t going to sit back and let them take his life away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

In a single moment of clarity, he grasped the metal cage in his hands and yanked it off of his head, flinging it directly at Micolash, who was too slow to deflect the object as it flew straight into his forehead, knocking him to the ground. He didn’t stick around to see if the man was unconscious; he bolted from the chair, from the room, messily wiping blood off of his face and ignoring the twinkling lights in his peripheral vision as he made for his escape.

He knew where the exit was. He had always known, known it was there but just out of his reach. Not anymore. Not ever again.

He never slowed down, not even for a second, not as members if the church chased after him, grabbing for his hair or his clothes, never quite reaching him. He was too fast, or perhaps he appeared to them slightly slower than he really was, appearing in their sights a second behind his actual location. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was his freedom from this damned place.

And he made it. It was something he had dreamed of for so long, and it almost made him angry how easy it was to push open those tall double doors and dash out into the outside world, taking in a deep lungful of fresh air, feeling more alive than he had in years. He was close to laughing as he left that world behind, giddy in his escape, almost manic, the freedom so overwhelming that he kept on running and running and running, far into the night.

-*-

“Hang on... don’t go out there yet. There’s someone there.”

“Someone? A person?”

“I think so. But they’re covered in blood. Doesn’t look good. I wouldn’t trust it.”

“What if they’re injured? I could help them.”

“It could just as easily be a trap.”

“I can’t just walk away if there’s someone that might need help.”

“Hah... all right, if you insist. I suppose that’s what I’m here for.”

Shigeo Kageyama nodded to himself before stepping out onto the roof of the old farm building. He didn’t really know what to expect when he rounded the corner, but from what Hanazawa had described, it wouldn’t be pretty.

What he saw, though... what he saw there nearly broke his heart in two.

There was a young boy there - couldn’t be much older than him - dressed in modest clothing that was, indeed, drenched in blood, though whose it was he couldn’t say. There was a worrying amount of dried blood coating the bottom half of his face and neck, smeared as though he had tried to wipe it away but to no avail. He had his legs drawn tight against his chest, backed into a corner, rocking back and forth with a vacant expression on his face. Whatever he had been through must have traumatized him.

Shigeo felt a sharp pang in his chest. This was someone that definitely needed help.

He approached the stranger slowly, not wanting to startle him, aware that Hanazawa was watching closely from behind. “Hello? Are you hurt?” he asked gently, leaning down slightly to get closer to eye level.

For about a minute the boy did not respond, staring into nothingness, but eventually he did turn in his direction, wide eyes struggling to focus. “Huh...?” he mumbled, voice hoarse and strained, overused. “Who... who are you?”

Shigeo smiled softly, pleased to hear him speak. “My name is Shigeo. It’s okay, I only want to help you,” he said, soft and reassuring. He tilted his head. “What is your name?”

The boy stared at him for several seconds, openly suspicious. “Help,” he repeated plainly, like he didn’t believe it. He looked away, out towards the forest. “You have no idea what I am, do you? Your friend back there has the right idea. You should leave.”

Shigeo’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. How had he managed to see Hanazawa? Had he heard their exchange earlier?

Well. It didn’t matter. Shigeo didn’t feel threatened in the slightest.

“Whatever you are... I’m sure you’re not as terrible as me.”

The boy’s head whipped back around, surprised, and tensed like he was preparing to be attacked, but Shigeo just sat there, calm as ever, posture relaxed.

Then, as an afterthought, “Oh, and Hanazawa is a good person, once you get to know him.”

Unexpectedly, the boy laughed at that statement. It was a quick chuckle, a reaction more than an expression of humor, but it made Shigeo’s heart swell in his chest. Perhaps... he could save this person after all.

Hanazawa walked up behind them, threaded cane resting on his shoulder, hip cocked in that familiar defiant stance. He said nothing, simply emerging from the shadows as his cover had been blown from the start. Still, he stood protectively at Shigeo’s side, eyes trained on the bloodied boy in front of them.

The boy looked between the two of them carefully. He lowered his head as he spoke up again, dangerously quiet. “Are either of you... associated with the Church of Mensis?”

Shigeo scrunched his nose as he searched his brain for anything that sounded similar, but he came up with nothing. He shot a glance to Hanazawa, who seemed just as confused as he was. “The Church of Mensis? I might’ve heard something like that before... are they related to the Healing Church?” Hanazawa asked for the both of them.

The boy sighed, shaking his head. “So you aren’t, then. That’s... good. That’s good,” he trailed off, and he suddenly seemed very tired as his guard finally began to drop. Shigeo figured he deserved some rest after... whatever he had been through.

“There is a place in Yharnam that is safe from beasts - the Oedon Chapel. It’s where we’ve been staying- oh, and my brother is there, too. A kind man named Reigen looks after the place. We can take you there,” he explained, offering a hand to the boy, silently praying that he would trust them and come along, that he would let him help.

The boy looked to the hand, then up at him, then at Hanazawa, then at the hand again. He brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes, ignoring the blood on his face as he slumped forwards and sighed. “I guess I’ve got nothing to lose,” he mumbled before reaching out and grasping Shigeo’s hand. He was so cold that Shigeo nearly jumped at the contact.

He smiled, regardless, and helped the shaking boy to his feet. He was shocked to find that he towered over both him and Hanazawa, though he looked frail, like a twig that threatened to snap at any moment. He tightened his grip, a silent promise to support him as they began the journey home.

Hanazawa led the way, fighting off whatever beast crossed their path. The walk was quiet, for the most part. The boy wasn’t up for conversation.

As they entered the city, he spoke again, with less bite than before. “Momozou,” he said, looking down at Shigeo from beside him. “That’s my name. Momozou,” he repeated with an awkward little smile of his own.

“Momozou... it’s nice to meet you.”

“Heh... you too, Shigeo.”