#that fic from earlier man....... fucked me up (in a very weird and specific way)

[daz4i]

ough. .. the yearning

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

Anyway this is normally where I "analyze" Ghirahim's fight like the obsessed person that am, so!

Honorary mention to his earlier dancing and dramatic emerging from behind a pillar

Wiggly fingers. Like is that necessary?

Link's so fucking angry I love it

No comment

His whole existence? That's... kinda sad, dude. Pick up a hobby. Learn to knit or something

TOSS THE ZELDA

I like how he completely gives up on being civil. Like he never was but hi yes thank you for uhhh offering to show me to my grave

Yeah buddy you were a fool

The diamonds look a bit like fire here, which is interesting considering he is sort of forging himself into the sword spirit form

HEY the mural of Demise appearing is directly behind Link in this shot!!!

Clank clank clank. The fuck are your feet made of, man?

Some semblance of dignity- BUDDY THAT WAS NOT DIGNITY

G. Guilty pleasure?

I do sympathize with him here because Link is annoyingly persistent

Ok so I. Did not remember that Ghirahim briefly showed his sword form. That's interesting.

The diamonds on his skin are kinda cool, ngl

Like how Link is surprised very briefly and then just immediately goes back into pissed off mode

By the way where the FUCK did the second ear come from? Was it always there but he just pinned it back or something so it wouldn't mess up his hair? How come he has ears and Fi doesn't?

The endless plunge is a stupid as fuck name

Absolutely HILARIOUS that Ghirahim had Link's death planned out in a specific way and then Link decided, nope, that's my plan now

So apparently Demise just like. Eats people. Okay.

Cool as fuck boss arena, though

Music is just so good in this game

I like how he just punches Link now. No fancy style, backhand slaps, just straight up fucking decking him

Also he leads with whatever hand is in the direction Link is heading (such as Link goes left, his right hand).

However, if you stand still, it's with the hand in the direction Link is facing

His right hand punch comes from underneath, while the left hand is overhead

The downward plunge into a fatal blow is kinda cool ngl

KICKS YOU KICKS YOU KICKS YOU

(This is the same move he used against Groose and the old woman at the Gate of Time)

He always kicks with his left leg

MAGIC HANDS

By the third platform, he prefers kicks over punches

What the FUCK is up with his skin. Why is it red under the black? What the heck

Why didn't he just start with the sword?

He doesn't do any fancy moves, just a simple sideways slash, an overhead slash, and a stab forward

Oh god not the daggers again

WHAT THE SHIT HE CAN DO SKYWARD STRIKES OF HIS OWN?

Ok so he doesn't do that weird super speed dodge anymore, just blocks mine with his sword. Same with arrows, the clawshot, the slingshot, and the whip

The bug net mutes the music lmao

Bombs make him jump back? I think?

He still licks the sword because yeah. Why not.

Ohhhhh I don't like that sword. For one it is ugly. Where did your good taste go, man?

Anyway just a basic sideways and overhead slash

Even his voice sounds weird and metallic. Fuck dude do you need a cough drop?

I feel kinda bad for him. Like he's clearly a good fighter, training for thousands of years, but Link still someone manages to defeat and, in this case, drive him near to death

What is he? THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW (wild gesturing to my several fics where Link is in some way not human or ridiculously overpowered)

The laugh and the ominous music 10/10

Like seriously Skyward Sword has the best music of any Zelda game imo

I do like how the Imprisoned is in its first form, only legs. Nice detail because it's the first time its broken out

(Also, no spike, which was actually never down in the pit to begin with)

Poor Zelda

Anyway Ghirahim has fangs

World's worst magical girl transformation

Y'know, after all that Ghirahim did, I think he deserved at least some acknowledgement instead of just immediately being forced into sword form. Shit, man, Demise did not deserve your loyalty

Actually wait where was the second Ghirahim during all of this? The one from the past? Did he just not notice what was going on?

Such a cool fucking sword honestly

Demise is weirdly polite

Bag of flesh? Couldn't think of a better term?

GO GROOSE GO

The little sigh of relief...

Angry Link <3

HE'S SO FUCKING SMALL

He's polite, but you can tell he doesn't think of Link as nothing more than an annoying bug

Oh, hey, the name for the past Sealed Grounds is Hylia's realm. Neat.

Anyway. In conclusion I think Ghirahim should have been gayer and more dramatic. Fun fight, though

[her-satanic-wiles]

honestly that one day was the only time i profoundly regretted having the best level in the whole advanced english class. like the teacher would always call on me when nobody has the right answer and when she asked me for the meaning of 'throbbing' i just squeaked out the tiniest 'i don't know' lmfaoo (my teacher was a huge slayer fan tho so she's good)

also idk why but i very much think brits have the best accent out of all the native english speakers, like it brings so much more flavour to the insults than the others for some reason

but yeah anyway i just dropped out of art school and now your fic is making me consider picking translation back up lmao thank you for the inspiration, it's beautifully written and i really love how much care you put into the specifics of ancient languages and history, and i'm already extremely invested in the plot (and the smut like i love your portrayal of copia as a while and in the smut scenes, not to mention this week has me drowning in horniness for the rat man so yk) all i've got to say is that cardi c definitely get the very official 'homme capable' title like forget 'i need him biblically' i need him in a luciferian way fr

-the french anon from earlier

Bruuuuuuuh - I would have been so uncomfortable with the whole throbbing aspect that's such a weird word to fixate on because I feel like it's only used in... specific... ways. 💀

Ahem.

One thing I love that the Brits can do, (including all of the UK for this one) is that we can turn any noun into an insult just by adding "absolute" in front of it. "You absolute pastry." "You absolute toothbrush." Etc. Etc. But that's more of a language thing than an accent thing. But it is fun.

Also, thank you for your kind words about my fic! It was really fun to write and learn about the history side of things and everything. I love me a bit of research. 💀💀 I'm so happy that you appreciated it! I'm so excited to release the next few parts as well!

I need Copia in a demonic, fucking on the ceiling way.

Although, I am absolutely obsessed with Evil!Copia, I do love writing Soft!Copia. Him's a sweetie.

[idy-ll-ique]

Paparazzi.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: TOO META, m*sturbation, mentions of s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me... Y/N Y/L/N writes Marvel fanfictions. One day, Sebastian stumbles upon her account and, unable to help himself, reads all the stuff she has written about him. He didn't mean to fall so hard for her but he does. How can he not? She has shown him parts of himself that he never even knew existed.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay so a few weeks ago I read a similar (but dark) fanfic and I really wanted to write a softer version of it... Enjoy!

---

Same old, boring routine.

Y/N hit post and slumped against the headrest of her bed, sighing. She waited; a minute, then two passed and she noticed that someone had liked her post. She smiled to herself as she kept her phone away. Though boring, she wouldn't trade her life for the world. Y/N… well, she was a university student first and foremost but she was also a writer.

Being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she had started writing fanfictions a few years ago. She posted them on Tumblr, where her blog, though not very well-known, stood out enough for her posts to get around 800-1000 likes per post. She loved it; she loved writing, she loved posting her stories and especially, she loved the feedback.

Sometimes people were rude, but most times, the reviews she got were fantastic. She read each and every one of them, smiling goofily as people freaked out over her fanfictions. It warmed her heart. A smile automatically blooming on her face, Y/N lay down on the bed and decided to go to sleep, it being almost 3 am.

Unbeknownst to her, someone else was up at the same time, tossing and turning in his bed, restless.

Sebastian sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He drank some water and lay down again, closing his eyes but it was like sleep was mad at him. Refused to be anywhere near him. He groaned to himself and picked up his phone from the nightstand, deciding to go through Instagram, hoping he'd finally fall asleep to the glare of the screen.

As he logged into his account, he skipped the activity page and went straight to the explore page. Bored, he continued scrolling until his eyes landed on a specific photo. And the breath escaped his lungs when he clicked on it; the woman in the picture was absolutely gorgeous. He just couldn't resist going to her page, smiling widely when he read her bio.

It gave him her basic information; her name, her age, the university she attended. But what caught his eye was the link below the bio. My Marvel Fanfictions Master List. Marvel fanfictions? She was a writer? Smirking, he clicked on the link and it took him to Tumblr. Of course, he'd heard of the site, but didn't have an account on there. At 3 am, his mind sure wasn't working right.

A post popped up on the screen, the same master list she had mentioned earlier. And his eyes bulged out of their sockets; damn, those are a lot of fanfictions. He went through the whole thing, smirking again when he noticed that she had written the most fanfictions about him. Not Bucky Barnes, no, Sebastian Stan.

He clicked on the first one. The date of posting was way back, in 2019. He started reading; nothing about it felt weird to him; he was intrigued, if anything. And as he continued reading, he couldn't help but imagine her being in the stead of the female protagonist. Her, the writer. The woman whose picture had made him end up reading in the first place.

When he finished the story, his heart thudded wildly in his chest. Wow, she really has a way with words. And he had also noticed how in the author's note, she used a lot of slang but reading the story had made him realize that she had an amazing, extensive vocabulary. He went back to the master list and clicked on the latest post under his name.

Posted: 15 minutes ago.

His breath hitched in his throat when he read the warnings: there was going to be sexual intercourse in this one. For one moment, he hesitated; did he really want to read this? "Oh fuck it," he huffed and scrolled, starting to read. The more he read, the more his shaft twitched in his pants. He wasn't really like that during… but oh damn, he wasn't complaining.

"Oh, Seb…"

His hand slid down and he rubbed himself through his boxers, unable to take his eyes off the text in front of him. His strokes got harder and faster as the sex got steamier. "Ungh, I'm gonna cum—" And he suddenly came in his boxers, groaning. Slumping down on the bed, he quickly finished reading the rest of it, going back to the master list.

He took a screenshot with the account's name in it and then went back to her Instagram account to take another screenshot. Keeping his phone away, he slipped out of his boxers, cleaned himself and pulled the covers on top of him, finally feeling tired enough to fall asleep.

---

Y/N was walking across the campus of her university, going to the cafeteria when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking it out, she opened Tumblr to read the message someone had sent her just then.

his-username: Hi there! I was binging your account last night, you write really well

your-username: Omg thank you!!!! I really appreciate it, I love getting feedback! 🥺❤

his-username: You're welcome! Especially your latest post, that was really good ;)

your-username: hehe 😈 glad you liked it!

Smiling widely, she kept her phone away and continued walking, not knowing that the person who had texted her was the same man she had written about. Sebastian smiled to himself when he read her text. After getting up in the morning, the first thing he had done was install Tumblr on his phone. Then he made an account for himself.

Figuring out the app was easy; he found out that there was an option to keep your liked posts and the accounts you followed hidden, and selected it immediately. No one needed to know what he did on the app. Then he went back to her account, pressed the follow button and started binge-reading her fanfictions again. Last night had he read only two, and that had left him wanting more.

Funny how much things can change in a night. He liked and reblogged all her posts without a second thought; he even read all her Bucky Barnes posts. She understood his character so well, put him on what he thought was an undeserved pedestal while writing about him. Some of the stories were AUs, which he found out stood for Alternate Universes. Mostly mobster or mafia stuff.

He had the day off, and he spent the entire time cooped up in his apartment, on his bed, reading. The more he read, the more he started fawning over her, over the version of him that she put out to the world. Dominating, suave and just perfect. He loved it. At the end of the day, he decided to text her again, hoping she wouldn't think he was weird or find out the truth.

his-username: do you wanna be friends, maybe? I'm new to the app, don't really have any friends here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That was a lie, he knew Mark Ruffalo had an active Tumblr account. But it's not like he could tell him.

your-username: Yes sure!!!! I was also thinking of making some friends on this app lol

his-username: You don't have any on here? But you've been here for years, haven't you?

your-username: haha yeah, but I don't really reach out to people much. Sometimes people leave their feedbacks on my posts, text me but that's that

his-username: Ohhh

his-username: well, let's start with names. Mine's Sebastian

your-username: Really?????? omg that's so cool lmaooooooo (didn't think you were a boy but 😳👀)

his-username: Not a boy, I'm a man 😤😂

your-username: 🤣 im y/n, btw

his-username: Y/N, that's a nice name

your-username: thank you!!!! So, what do you do?

his-username: nothing really that interesting, I'm in theatre

your-username: theatre is nice! I'm studying at [university] in New York lmao

his-username: Wait you're in New York? So am I!

your-username: ASDFHKSHKGF that's awesome!!! also I noticed that you've been going through my account the whole day 😏 notifications upon notifications keeping my phone busy

his-username: Oopsie?

your-username: 😂😂 I really don't mind, it was great! Despite the amount of likes on my posts, I only have a few loyal followers lmao gaining one more felt nice

your-username: You a big fan of Sebastian Stan? Cuz I noticed that you were only reading his and Bucky's fics 👀

Sebastian's face heated up.

his-username: kinda yeah 🤷🏻‍♂️😁

your-username: Cool cool cool, I'm a big fan of his too!!!! also got a crush on him but whatever 😳

Sebastian smirked at his phone. A crush on him, huh? That… was acceptable. He suddenly felt his cocky side coming out; the one she described in nearly all her fanfictions.

his-username: wouldn't blame ya, I mean, look at him. You have also written the most fics about him and Bucky

your-username: right????? damn that man has raised my standards. Anyway, I gtg now, I have to finish a paper before midnight. ttyl!

his-username: Bye! 👋🏻

He kept his phone away and took in a deep breath. This was the most fun he had had in years, and he was not letting her go so easy. He realized he was quickly falling for her; rather unhealthy, but he couldn't help it. Look at her. She looks like a goddamn angel, writes like one, makes him feel like one, do you really expect him not to fall for her? That's insane.

---

Months passed by like a breeze. Y/N and Sebastian had become very good friends, and he knew his way around words just enough to keep her from finding out his identity while not lying to her. Y/N also appreciated his friendship, because he was the one to whom she could rant about her most favorite man in the world— Sebastian Stan.

Sometimes, she thought about how weird of a coincidence it was that her new friend and the actor shared the same names, but then she used to brush it off; that was a common name, right? They talked for hours on end; Sebastian (her friend, not the actor) was extremely witty, smart and fun to talk to, she had to admit. Sebastian felt the same way.

His feelings had worsened. Y/N entirely owned his heart now. Somedays, he'd just go on Instagram, go to her account— her username memorized by him— and stare at her photos until he grew tired; he'd never get tired of looking at her beautiful face but his stiff body afterwards begged to differ. She was just so Elysian. He longed for the moment when he could meet her in real life.

His personality had also changed majorly, and people had caught on. Especially his Marvel co-stars, who knew him to be introverted, shy and, in Anthony Mackie's words, "boring". They were surprised at his sudden change in attitude; he knew his worth and Y/N had helped tremendously in finding it. Now, all those adjectives that she used in her fanfictions fit him perfectly.

Sebastian was never tempted to read fanfictions about himself from authors other than Y/N. No, he only loved her work. He was sure no one else could write as beautifully as she did, he was her #1 fan. Y/N even sent him funny Marvel memes she found on the app and he used to enjoy them heartily; God, the others have no idea what they're missing out on. Our fans are awesome.

Everything was going well.

Until one day.

Sebastian was getting bored at home, so he decided to go to the nearby library to clear his mind. He had read not one book in the past few months, hung up on Y/N's fanfictions. At this point, he was obsessed with her and he knew it. It was nothing dark, per se, it was— it was similar to how Y/N was attracted to Sebastian. How she was a fan of his work.

Just the same. He was a fan of her work in the same way. Just how she was attracted to him, he was attracted to her. Walking into the library that he visited often, he gave the librarian a smile and ventured further into the dark place. He checked his watch; the library closed at 12 am, it was currently 9:30 pm.

Not many people were around, heck, nobody was around. He thought himself to be all alone until he heard it. A sigh, coming from a few aisles away. He walked in that direction and peeked around the corner, freezing when he saw the other person. Y/N? Her books were strewn all across the table as she sat alone at the booth, rubbing her temples.

"You okay?"

She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. I'm dreaming. This is not real. Now I know for a fact that Sebastian Stan is not standing in front of me, asking me if I'm— "Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I, uh— I'm— h-hi," she stammered and he almost chuckled. "Hi." She gulped visibly and blinked at the table, not meeting his eyes.

"Can I have a seat?" He wants to sit with me?! "Y-Yes, sure, sir," she blurted out and he easily slid into the booth next to her. "Hey, please, call me Sebastian. What's your name?" He gave her a friendly smile, even though all he wanted to do was push her back into the booth and kiss her wildly. His shaft twitched just by thinking about it; Y/N was a thousand times more beautiful in person.

"I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you, I'm… I'm a fan," she admitted, playing with the ring she wore on her left thumb. I'm your fan too, sweetheart, the biggest one. "Y/N, nice name. You come here often? I haven't really seen you around." She shook her head. "Oh no no, I moved to this part of the city just a week ago, this is my first time here. The library is cozy," she shrugged, easing out of her tense position.

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I know, this place is awesome. Got all my favorite books here," he chuckled and she smiled at him. "What's all this?" A groan left her lips. "Ugh, stupid university work. I have to write a book report but I don't even know what to write about." He smiled gently. "Well, I have a few favorite books, would you like some suggestions?"

"Oh, please! Tell me!"

He started listing some of his favorite works and Y/N noted the names down until he said the last name. At that, she froze. That's the name of my latest— She looked up but he had a smile on his face. "Oh, and the last one is by my favorite author." He took a pause. "Y/N Y/L/N." She froze completely, staring at the man with her jaw dropped.

Sebastian grinned. "We finally meet, Y/N, I've been waiting for months." Her mouth opened and closed several times as she recalled every interaction she had had with her online best friend— scratch that— her celebrity crush. All the times she had confessed her love for Sebastian Stan, all the dirty and inappropriate memes that she'd sent him…

Embarrassment flooded her entire body as she exhaled shakily. "It was you," she croaked out, "On Tumblr, the account— I'm so sorry—" Sebastian frowned in confusion when she blinked back sudden tears, a few still rolling down her cheeks as shame replaced embarrassment. "Y/N, please don't cry…" She looked up at him, his figure blurry due to her tears.

"You've read everything, haven't you? I just— I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable—" He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Y/N couldn't hug back, though she appreciated the hug especially since it came from him. "You don't know how much you mean to me, doll," he mumbled into her shoulder, using the nickname she often used in the stories she wrote about him. He grew accustomed to it easily.

"Huh?"

He pulled away to wipe her tears. "It was an accident," he admitted, "But I stumbled onto your Instagram account from my explore page. Then I clicked on your account, saw that you wrote Marvel fanfictions and I just couldn't resist the urge to read what you had written. Blame it on 3 am me, to be honest. You're a great writer, and I was immediately drawn to your works. They're awesome.

"They've helped me so much in the past few months. You see this changed attitude that everyone's been talking about lately? All because of you, sweetheart. I'm sorry for keeping my identity secret, but after reading your works, I knew I had to get closer to you. I made the Tumblr account just for you, just so I could talk to you. I'm sorry for lying, but thank you."

Y/N dumbfoundedly stared at him for a few moments, her heart beat getting steady with each thump. Here was a man she admired, loved more than anyone else in the world, telling her that he harbored the same feelings for her. How crazy was that?! Not trusting her words, she simply pulled him into another hug. Sebastian wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her flush against him.

"Can I kiss you, doll?"

She slowly pulled away from him and nodded, shyly biting her lip. Grinning at the endearing gesture, Sebastian cupped her face and leaned in, gently pressing his lips to hers. The kiss grew hungry in a matter of seconds, and Y/N responded just as eagerly. His hands slid down to her waist and tugged on it, pulling her on his lap. She straddled his thighs as they continued kissing.

"Fuck," he groaned when they finally pulled away from each other, out of breath and panting. "You see what you do to me, doll?" Sebastian spoke huskily as he took her hand, placing it right on top of the tent that was forming in his pants. "Oh," Y/N whimpered when she felt him, the sound going straight to his shaft. "How about I take you home and we recreate some of the scenes from your stories, hm?"

"O-Okay."

"Good girl."

---

A/N: What a meta experience 🤡 Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[incurablyromanticsblog]

Don't know how people are gonna feel about this but Loki should've been dealt with the way they dealt with Lucifer (from the Netflix show) I mean while the show straight up dismissed loki's feelings, lucifer netflix really showed us the natural and organic character growth with ups and downs while still maintaining the comic hilarity (WHICH WASNT AT THE EXPENSE OF THE MC). It's love interest and side characters are all original characters dealt as independent characters rather as brownie or plot points.

And the scenes that prompted me to think this?

1. Lucifer asking his Mazikeen to cut off his wings because he's moved past being a pawn in his father's 'Great Plan'. We could've had loki come to this conclusion and tell Mobius (who would've been an actual all out ally who was forced into doin lg what he did) that he no longer wanted any place in a land that hated him. (Once again like Lucifer calling the silver city hell)

2. Lucifer actually being the way he's supposed to be (angel of light, light bringer etc.) We could've had Loki act like the way he Actually Is. Not like how @iamnmbr3 so eloquently put it 'like larry the dumb lookalike'. We could've had Loki being stern yet having that air of sarcasm and wit that he had in his the films. His eloquence, his physical prowess (none of the falling flat on his face stuff, a lot of people talk about how he was trying not to hurt the people in ep 2 but srsly Loki would just immediately disarm them), and most of all his agency and refusal to cower or the pathetic attempts at lying.

3. Costumes. The lucifer netflix team had an extensive costume department that ironically pales in comparison to what disney is capable of but still we see Lucifer have a wide array of clothes and styles. Have Loki take the first chance to change his clothes. If he wants the 50s aesthetic have at it! he can wear the tuxedos and the nice leather. Or maybe change into some nice Viking-inspired leathers and battle armor. Have him as a pirate, or a knight or a cowboy. You're traveling through time good man! you can at least hit some of the cool spots.

4. In depth analysis of lucifer's mental health. the only episode of the Loki tv show I liked (loose term) is the first one cause it's the only one that gave a fraction of what we were promised: an insight into loki. That's it.

5. Lucifer's organic growth. This is self-explanatory. Loki watched one video and was good. Very good five stars. I understand that they only had six episodes but come-on. You could've had the subtle changes through out all the eps and lead to the big finish finally. With each episode focusing on certain aspects of Loki.

5. Lucifer's exploration of self-loathing. This deserves to be a separate point because Istg it was done so well. Basically lucifer messes up and he's faced with the hatred that's been conditioned into him (not unlike Loki) and then he learns what it is and actually tries to love himself. And not by kissing a female variant of himself (ew and also respect the gender fluid persons). He actually saw the good in him by reflecting and his actual good friends helping him.

6. Lucifer actually wanting to be good. Look Idc what shut mike waldron wrote, loki is not selfish when his whole arc has been doing things for asgard, thor, odin, frigga etc. We all know that New York was mind control, I do not know why it's being swept under the rug. But here's the thing, that self loathing I mentioned earlier is a huge part of Loki thinking he's some monster and intent on proving it.

7. Lucifer facing his 'devil-face'. Loki should've come to terms with his Jotun heritage. The TVA could've had a case in Jotunheim concerning the Royal Family and Loki could've seen the entirety of Jotunheim and it's people not just that most-likely war propaganda the Asgardians force-fed him. Maybe have him meet his siblings or better yet his mother. There's a very nice fic on A03 called Asgardian Galdr that deals with this beautifully.

8. Luicfer having a Breakdown and Crying: First off this happens gradually, his problems pile up etc etc. and he faces off his father and gets angry until he finally breaks down. And basically God says, "I'm sorry but i can't fix you," And Lucifer in all his grief and desperation asks, "But you're God,'. I know we talk a lot about Loki being made weak in the Show but that's specifically about him being made weak and helpless to make Sylvie seem like a stronger character (Don't get me started on the Sif and Narcissm scene istfg), But maybe seeing Loki try awkwardly to be good and near the finish of the show we see it blow up in some angsty way? only for some conversation like this to happen and have Loki understand that being good is something that is innate and something he already had the potential for all along. Maybe learn that he's not lawful good but as always the morally grey character we know him as. (Protector of misfits, god of outcasts i.e all the shit Marvel shat on) and rise as the God of Chaos and Stories against the rigid bonds of The TVA and essentially Kang.

9. Lucifer having a nice healthy romantic interest and relationship. Lucifer and Chloe's relationship is more often than not the main point of the show but no matter how much it is focused on it remains health, organic and not a weird allegory for something disgusting. Even if Sylvie weren't a Loki (once again ew) the whole dynamic was toxic. She constantly put him down, and invalidated his feelings (Sounds like Odin huh?) and guess what Loki fell in love with her after one day, one conversation of what love was and Mobius calling her his girlfriend (he also said that it was freakish and i agree). We could've had Sigyn sweet lord. (I'll make another post about this)

10. Lucifer's Sexuality. There is a whole episode in which Loki's paramours are getting murdered and they all vary from men to women to all that comes in between. And there's no shame, no offensive jokes. Have Loki flirt with dudes, i understand ms.karen that this is for children, don't worry the casual sex ;) was offscreen. Have Loki turn into a woman and flirt with woman cowards, maybe make some questionable remarks about horses (That make Sigyn laugh)

11. Lucifer's Powers: lemme sum up, Lucifer can, let's call it, use compulsion on people. He is known for his strength and prowess and abilites to grant favors. Have Loki shapeshift into animals, absolutely mauling people. Have him use his silver-tongue to coax people into making or changing history (Yes Brutus, Caesar is getting to be a bit much, say have you heard how sharp knives are?)

I'm pretty sure there's more that i can't remember rn. And here is one thing i would like to make very clear.

You are not bad for liking the show or hating it whatever. The problem is that the show framed a lot of bad things as good (Anything the TVA did, Mobius' torture session with Loki, the way Sylvie treated Loki only for them to become romantic partners, the Sylkie fiasco as it was offensive to genderfluid people and the bare fucking minimum of LGBTQ and POC rep). The show was also marketed specifically to make us think hey! Loki might actually be the main character only for it to blow up in our faces. We were also promised an actual plot rather than a constantly plot twisting concept that could've been worth something.

Also i'm still working on a Loki fic rn after which i will write a Loki(TV) Rewrite but unitil then ig.

[fanfics4all]

New Arrival

Request: Yes / No  Request - Female reader is Toni's cousin who arrives in Riverdale and ends up being rescued and befriended by Sweet Pea. after a few months Sweet Pea and Fangs develop a crush on her [no one knows her father is a business associate of Hiram Lodge, you don't need to have this part in. veronica is my fave female character] @whoviancumberbunny​

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Sweet Pea x Fangs Fogarty x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 2169

Warnings: A Ghoulie being an asshole and I think that’s it! 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

My Father was a bad guy. He’s associated with one of the worst people I’ve ever met, Hiram Lodge. He was the absolute worst person, especially with how he was trying to buy up the area where my cousin lives! My Father didn’t seem to give any fucks about the ‘reject’ side of the family. I was done with his shit. I packed my stuff up and decided I was gonna move to Riverdale. I had called my cousin Toni before I made the decision and she agreed to let me stay there, after she talked our Nana of course. I was so excited to see her, it’s been forever! I made sure I grabbed some money from my Father and left for Riverdale. When I got there I knew no one from the Northside of town went there, so I started my walk from the bus stop. Lucky for me I didn’t bring everything I had, so it was easy to carry my shit. Once I crossed over to the Southside, I could instantly see the difference. It was like the town didn’t give a shit about this side. Toni really wasn’t lying. I was pretty sure I was close to the trailer park, but honestly wasn’t sure. I looked down at my phone to call Toni, but I ended up walking into someone. 

“Hey, watch it bitch!” The guy growled and I looked up to see a guy in a black studded vest and dark eyeliner on. 

“Sorry dude, no need to be an asshole.” I said and went to keep walking, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me. 

“You’re new around here, clearly, so let me tell you how this works. I’m with the best gang in town, The Ghoulies, and you can’t talk that way to me. So, you’re gonna make it up to me.” He said with a smirk and looked me up and down. I rolled my eyes and got out of his grip. 

“Yeah right, idiot.” I said and continued walking. I thought that would just be the end of it, but he grabbed me and slammed me against a wall. I hit my head, but it was probably just gonna leave a killer headache. 

“Now you’re really gonna have to make it up to me.” He growled and pulled out a knife. My eyes widened and I gulped. 

“Be a good girl and you won’t get hurt.” He smirked. I felt my blood run cold and I knew what was about to happen. 

“Hey! Get the fuck off her!” Someone shouted and the guy looked back to see a tall guy with a snake tattoo on his neck. He must be with the Serpents, like Toni! 

“This isn’t your business Snake.” He growled. 

“I said-” Tall guy said, pulling out his own knife. 

“Get the fuck off her.” He growled, stepping closer to him. The guy holding me had fear flash in his eyes, but recovered quickly. 

“Whatever, bitch aint even worth it.” He said and shoved himself off me. He ran off and the tall guy walked up to me, putting his knife away. 

“You alright?” He asked and I nodded, picking some of my stuff off the ground. 

“Thanks, I just got into town and clearly don’t know much.” I said and he chuckled. 

“Clearly. What are you doing here anyway? Who the hell wants to come to Riverdale?” He asked and I gave a small smile. 

“I’m moving in with my cousin.” I answered and his eyes widened slightly. 

“Is your cousin Toni Topaz?” He asked and my smile grew. 

“Yeah, do you know her?” I asked and he smiled. 

“She’s one of my best friends.” He chuckled. 

“Thank God, I was just about to call her because I might be a little lost.” I laughed. 

“Where are you trying to go?” He asked. 

“Sunnyside Trailer Park.” I answered and he laughed. 

“Yeah, you’re a little lost. How about I give you a ride.” He offered and I smiled. 

“Really? That’d be great!” I said and he walked over to his bike. 

“Hop on.” He said. I got on the back, while keeping my stuff on my arms, and wrapped my arms around his waist. 

“I’m Sweet Pea by the way.” He said and I smiled. 

“Y/N Y/L/N.” I answered and he smiled back.

“Hold on tight.” He said and we sped off. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, but I was loving it! We made it to Toni’s trailer pretty quickly and Sweet Pea helped me carry my stuff to the door. I knocked and Toni answered with a huge smile. 

“Y/N/N!” She said and pulled me in for a hug. 

“Sweet Pea? What are you doing here?” She asked, confused. 

“Y/N here got herself into trouble with a Ghoulie, I was riding by and saved her.” He answered and Toni’s eyes widened. 

“What? Are you okay?” He asked and I smiled. 

“I’m fine T, Sweet Pea saved me before that idiot could do anything.” I said and she sighed in relief. 

“Well, thanks Pea.” She said and Sweet Pea smiled back. 

“Of course Toni.” He said. 

“Alright, well I’ll see you later tonight.” She said and Sweet Pea nodded. 

“Why don’t you come along?” He asked. 

“Where?” I asked. 

“The Wyrm. It’s the bar I work at and also the Serpents hang out.” She answered and I shrugged. 

“Yeah sure, sounds like fun.” I smiled. 

“Awesome, well I’ll see you guys later, I gotta go meet up with Fangs.” Sweet Pea said and left. 

“Fangs?” I asked and Toni chuckled. 

“I’ll introduce you later.” She said, pulling me inside. 

“Why does everyone have such weird names around here?” I asked and she laughed. 

“They’re nicknames, I’m sure you’ll get your own soon enough.” She said. 

The two of us spend the day unpacking and catching up. I realized that I didn’t know my cousin as well as I thought I did. I mean, how the hell did I not know she was bisexual!? She said that she was more into girls than guys though. Talking with her made me realize I made the right decision to come here. When it hit seven she told me we were going to the bar. I was excited to see where she worked, it sounded like a really cool place. When we got there everyone looked our way, most people greeted Toni and looked at me weirdly. 

“Yo Toni! Over here!” A short guy shouted and Toni pulled me along with her. 

“Hey guys, this is my cousin Y/N, Y/N this is Fangs, Jughead, and well you met Sweet Pea already.” She introduced me. 

“Toni! Let’s go!” An older man called her and she looked at me. 

“Sorry, gotta work. Jones, mind keeping an eye on these two for me?” She asked. 

“What? Why us?” The short guy, Fangs, asked. 

“Because, I don’t trust you two around my cousin.” She said and Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. 

“I literally saved her from a Ghoulie earlier.” He said and Toni just shrugged. “Don’t care, you two are the biggest flirts in the world and I wouldn’t be surprised if you got her drunk.” She said and walked off. 

“She’s always been protective.” I laughed. 

“I think Toni left something out when she was telling us about you.” Fangs said and I furrowed my brow. 

“What?” I asked. 

“She didn’t mention how cute you are.” He said and I couldn’t help but blush. 

“This is exactly why Toni asked me to watch you too.” Jughead said, rolling his eyes. 

“Yo Hogeye! Two beers!” Sweet Pea called and the man that called my cousin nodded. He brought Sweet Pea two beers and he offered one to me. I smiled and took it from him. 

“That’s the other reason.” Jughead sighed. 

“She’ll be fine Jones.” Sweet Pea said and I smiled. 

“Yeah, it’s just one beer.” I said. 

Getting to know Toni’s friends was awesome! Jughead shared the same sense of humor I did, he was smart, passionate, and just seemed like he’d be an awesome friend. Fangs was really cool, he was a flirt, but not as much as Sweet Pea was, and he seemed genuinely caring and sweet. Sweet Pea clearly had a sense of loyalty, but had a short temper. I knew that I would get along with everyone easily and I would really like living here. 

*Six Months Later* 

I’ve been here for half a year now and I haven’t heard anything from my Father, surprisingly. I had joined the Serpents, which everyone was very supportive of. Toni felt more like a sister to me than a cousin now and it was amazing. Jughead and I were good friends, but Sweet Pea and Fangs had become my best friends. I found myself crushing on both of them for different reasons and I felt a little guilty about it… 

I was currently at the bar working, but Toni had off tonight. She was helping Nana with something at home. I was watching Sweets and Fangs playing pool and smiled at the boys. They were betting like always and I smirked, Sweet Pea was bound to win, like always. I have never once seen Fangs beat him. The two of them walked up to the bar and Sweet Pea looked very smug, while Fangs looked sad. 

“Let me guess, Fangs is buying again?” I asked. 

“You know it Angel.” Sweets said with a smirk. 

“Maybe you’ll buy for me too when I get off in an hour?” I asked, batting my eyelashes slightly. 

“Of course Cutie, anything for you.” Fangs said and I felt my heart flutter at each of their nicknames for me. 

“Perfect, well here you go, two beers.” I said, placing the bottles on the bar. 

When I finally got off work I went to go find my two friends. I thought they would just be at the bar, but they weren’t. I was confused and decided to look near the pool table, sure enough they were there playing another game. 

“I thought you guys already played your game for tonight? What are you doing an all or nothing thing?” I asked and the two turned to face me. 

“Uh, yeah…” Fangs said and I looked at the two confused. 

“What are you guys betting this time?” I asked and they looked at each other. 

“If you wanna try and come up with a lie, you might wanna be a little more discreet about it.” I said with a small smirk. Sweet Pea sighed and looked back at me. 

“Fine, we were playing to see who got to ask you out…” He said and my eyes widened. 

“W-What?” I asked with a blush. 

“Hypothetically, who would you say yes to?” Fangs asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Dude, you can’t just ask her that!” Sweets said. 

“Why not? It’s not like we can just finish the game and do the bet now.” He said and the two looked back at me. 

“So?” Fang asked. 

“U-Uh, honestly?” I asked and they nodded. 

“Both of you.” I answered and their eyes widened. 

“What?” They asked at the same time. 

“Honestly, I have a crush on both of you. I’ve been feeling a little guilty about it because you’re both amazing and if I dated one I would still like the other and that just not fair.” I answered and they looked at each other then smiled. 

“What if you didn’t have to date just one?” Fangs asked. 

“Huh?” I asked. 

“What if you dated both of us?” Sweets asked and my eyes widened. 

“What, like a poly relationship?” I asked and they nodded. 

“And you both would be alright with that?” I asked. 

“Hey, if I have to share you with someone I’d rather it be my best friend.” Sweets answered. 

“Yeah, besides we’ve hooked up with each other before so there’s clearly some feelings there.” Fangs laughed and my eyes widened. 

“Really?” I asked and they nodded. A smile slowly made its way onto my face and I looked at the two boys I was attracted to. 

“I think this is a great idea.” I said and Sweets instantly pulled me to him. 

“You have no idea how happy you just made me with those words Angel.” He said and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. 

“Hey! She’s my girl now too!” Fangs whined and pulled me away from Pea and crashed his lips onto mine. I smiled and laughed slightly. 

“Hey!” Sweets growled and I pulled away from Fangs. 

“Alright, rule number one, no fighting over each other.” I said and they looked at each other. 

“Fine, but he can’t hog you!” They said at the same time and I laughed. 

“You two were made for each other.” I said and hugged both of them. This town just keeps getting better for me!

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs-blog1​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @rachelxwayne​ @emo-godess-loves-you​ @hiya-imthatgirl​ @mindsetjupiter​ @averysinclaire​ @mittelerde1999​ @sweetest-peas​ @rousewriter​ @camiconfessions​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @cenyddtheunicorn​ @jacksxsouthsideserpents @lover2448​ @hatter-madigan3​ @mamacobie13​ @staygoldsquatchling02​ @wanderlust-and-poetry​ @hiighdeex3​ @ayeitsjaz​ @skeletalwolfcat​ @scarrasco1325​ @reblogserpent​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @will-noble-owns-my-ass​ @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e​ 

[palbabor-writes]

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός   ther·​mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating. 

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper. 

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic. 

It’s Toga. 

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks. 

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text. 

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well. 

Hmm, well this is something, at least. 

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C. 

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

 Fuck. 

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths. 

There is a heat advisory today. 

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good. 

Wishful thinking on his part. 

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all. 

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move. 

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner. 

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him. 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down. 

You were out of town. 

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv. 

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment. 

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you. 

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too. 

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to. 

You’re gone for the better part of a week. 

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name? 

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies? 

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days. 

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you? 

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in. 

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets. 

You’ve got a nice smell. 

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now. 

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him. 

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours. 

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin. 

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance. 

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face. 

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly. 

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that. 

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo. 

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile. 

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation. 

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view. 

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head. 

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach. 

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his. 

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do. 

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes. 

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep? 

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm. 

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window. 

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them. 

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it. 

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you. 

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking. 

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now. 

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter. 

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl. 

There’s fuck all happening. 

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting. 

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.” 

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth. 

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind. 

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him. 

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close. 

He’s never been this close to you. 

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another. 

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him. 

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

 When he wakes again, you’re gone. 

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper. 

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.” 

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now. 

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed. 

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him. 

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching. 

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance. 

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down. 

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer. 

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals. 

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine. 

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress. 

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you. 

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar. 

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.  

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention. 

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display. 

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.” 

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night. 

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought. 

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front. 

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss? 

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice. 

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up. 

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright. 

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse. 

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.” 

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good. 

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in. 

Not without you. 

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him. 

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you. 

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time. 

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex. 

That sounds better than saying what he really wants. 

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it. 

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him. 

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him. 

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down. 

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face. 

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find. 

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw. 

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard. 

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin. 

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you. 

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.” 

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm. 

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness. 

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you. 

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings. 

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress. 

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions. 

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close. 

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.  

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air. 

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him. 

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt. 

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist. 

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big. 

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.  

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?” 

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him. 

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds. 

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts. 

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.” 

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back. 

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully. 

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more. 

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions. 

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out. 

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots. 

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.” 

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes. 

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet. 

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution. 

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind. 

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°  

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

[juletheghoul]

Mysticus Chapter 1

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while and after reading all of the AWESOME writing on this website and with some really lovely encouragement from some of my favourite people here I've decided to give it a go. Always open to constructive criticism!

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 1649K

Warnings: Language, tension? (Smut later on)

Literally my first fic, willing to tag if that's something you'd like!

Masterlist Chapter 2

--

“Stay away from Thomas”

The words were out of your mouth before your brain had a chance to stop you. Fuck. The girl you whose palm you held in your hands frowned.

“My date? Why?”

How. How did you always manage to shove your foot in it? You had been doing so well! A steady trickle of patrons to your admittedly shabby little stand. Okay, table with a glittery table cloth and a couple of folding chairs but nevermind that.

“Uhhh, yeah. I’m not sure why but I’m getting a really bad vibe. Is this your first date with him? Where is he?” You asked. You could feel the fear creeping in, like a drop of ice cold water that slides down your spine.

“It’s our first date, he’s grabbing us some food.” She responded, brow furrowed slightly, you could see she was having doubts about her safety.

“What kind of vibe are you getting?” The fact that she didn’t laugh you off right away let you know that she most likely wasn’t as comfortable as she should be on a date.

Your dog looked up at you from her place on the floor, seemingly interested in how you were going to explain yourself.

“Look, I don’t really know what to say I just feel like you should get away as fast as possible. I think you know what I mean, and I think you felt a little weird before you sat down.” You say plainly. You had broke your only rule. No bad news. You could feel her fear now, a wave of anxiety washing over the both of you all at once. In the corner of your peripheral you could see a handsome young man walking towards the both of you with food in both hands. Nothing particularly scary about him but you could feel the hackles raising on your normally silent dog. A low growl came from her direction and you put your hand on her head to calm her.

“There you a-“ he started but before he could say anything else the girl was up, dropping money on your table and hastily making a phone call.

“Sorry Thomas – my mom just called, there’s been an emergency and she’s on her way.”

He frowned. “I can drop you off-“

“No need, thanks for everything and hopefully we can do this again” she quickly called over her shoulder and then she was off.

He stood there for a few minutes dumbstruck. Then you saw something. A glint in his eye maybe? A trick of the lights flashing either from the rides or the games on the either side of your pathetic ‘booth’ and then it was gone. When he seemed to realize that you were sitting there, he gave you a smile and walked away. You shivered and noticed your dog was up and ready to pounce.

“It’s okay girl we’re good.” You reassured her and she once again took her place at your feet, but you noticed that she followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight. Fuck you really needed to work on thinking about what you said before you said it. At least she listened instead of telling you to fuck off, little victories.

“What do you say girl, think it’s time to go?” The dogs ears perked up as you scratched behind one, she responded by standing, her signal for yes. You grabbed the box you had stashed under the little table and started putting your makeshift booth away. The sign which read palm readings $5, the table cloth and the can with your earnings for the night. Slipping the end of the dogs leash around your wrist you folded up the table and chairs and stacked everything neatly and made your way to your Jeep. Tomorrow will be better.

Next day

Carnivals had always freaked you out. A lot of places that were supposed to be fun and whimsical freaked you out. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about these places but it made your skin crawl. The music playing gave you the creeps, the smiles of the people around you seemed wild rather than happy. There was a feeling of something bigger underneath it all, something hungry. Predatory. Patient.

It was a last resort in order to make some quick money with your palm readings, but it always seemed like you were walking into the jaws of some huge monster when entering the grounds.

The dog made you feel better. You had found her in a shelter a couple of years ago and had instantly bonded with her. The staff had told you that she’d been in there for a while since she was notoriously unfriendly but she seemed to tolerate you. You suited each other. What they took as unfriendly, you understood as selective, which was fine. You were selective too. You’d had to make a little sign saying please do not pet the dog but it was a small price to pay for her companionship. She - much like you - was an excellent judge of character.

You spotted a group of teenage girls eyeing your booth, and you perked up. Tried to turn on the charm as it were, usually teenage girls were your best customers. You were usually really good with them and these girls were just what you needed to reach your goal for the night. You smiled along and told them just what they wanted to hear, and seeing them walk away giggling with a spring in their step made you happy. That and the cash you were putting into your coffee can.

Just then you felt it. Something prickling at your skin, like static before a rainstorm. Blood rushed to your ears and it seemed like everything was somehow louder. Something in the pit of your stomach was roiling and you were afraid you might throw up when someone approached your table.

He smiled an easy smile but it held something in it, something that said he knew something secret and you weren’t in on it. You weren’t sure if it intrigued you or scared you. You looked over expecting the dog to growl but she was calm, sitting quietly by your feet. Okay. Weird. She usually didn’t like anyone except you and the occasional small child. She usually hated men in fact but no reaction. It was throwing you off a bit if you were honest but all of a sudden he was speaking to you and you felt like you could barely focus.

“Well birdie, seems like you’ve utterly captured my attention and I simply must know what knowledge you can ascertain from my palm.” He smiled and sat down.

You blinked. What the hell was going? Why did your skin feel feverish? Why wasn’t the dog freaking out like she usually did? Why aren’t you answering?

He patiently waited with his palm upturned and you tried to get your shit together as you slowly reached over and took his hand. He was handsome sure, but never had you been rendered so speechless by anyone before. His rich brown eyes bore into you as you traced the lines in his hand.

“You’re going to meet the love of your life.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s interesting, I don’t suppose you’d be able to go into specifics about how or when this fateful meeting is to occur?”

You watched his mouth as he spoke, and he noticed. Curling it into the same secret smile from earlier and you felt the blood rushing to your face. His eyes crinkled when his smile deepened it took everything in you not to smile back at him.

You noticed the blonde birthmark and for a moment you had the wild urge to run your fingers through it. You quickly suppressed that while clearing your throat.

“I don’t have a time and date for you but it’ll be real soon.” You looked back down at his palm and noticed something. There was a little mark. Nothing crazy but aside from yourself, you’d never met anyone else with the same mark on their palm. You tried very hard to keep your breathing in check.

“Is this a scar?” You asked as casually as you could manage.

“That particular mark as afflicted me since birth, curious is it not?” He asked with a tilt of his head. His drawl a little more pronounced. Is it getting hotter?

“Somewhat-“

“Has anyone ever had the privilege of reading the no doubt fantastic future in your palm birdie?”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that” you responded focusing on the pet name he’d given you.

“It suits you, I ask again- has anyone ever been fortunate enough to read your palm?”

“No.” You responded flatly, reluctantly releasing his hand and sitting back in your chair. He stated back at you and it felt as though he was looking through you, you felt curiously naked.

“As enchanted as I am basking in your presence, I unfortunately must depart. Will you be offering your palmistry services tomorrow night? I should like to see you again birdie.”

“Uhh.. yes, I’ll be back tomorrow.” You’re not even sure why you said that, you were planning on leaving town tonight.

“Wonderful, until we meet again birdie.” He rose smiling, he took your hand in his and pressed a light kiss to it. You stared up at him in shock, your skin prickling where his lips brushed it.

He smiled down at your dog and before you could even think to warn him he reached down and scratched behind her ear. Your jaw dropped as she happily licked his palm while he murmured something into her ear before promptly rising to his feet and striding off into the crowd.

You stared after him long after with the same dumbstruck look on your face. Who the hell was that?

-----------------------------------------

Tag list: @foli-vora @frannyzooey thanks for being patient with me ladies, this ones for y'all <3 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando

[harryskalechips]

Too tired

A/N Hey everyone! I’m so excited to share my little piece for @berrynarrybanana​ ‘s Sex Bucket Fic Challenge.  Thank you Casey for letting me be part of this!! ❤️ I chose to do sex in a studio LOL It’s actually very nsfw 💞🥰🧚🏻‍♀️ Please enjoy! If you would like some more smutty one shots make sure to check out the other writers who took part in the challenge!! You can also check out some of my work too!!! ;)))))) 

Warning: A lot of kinks in here! did you bring your holy water???

Word count 5k

Masterlist

~

“Hey.” Y/N greets her boyfriend as she steps inside his studio. It was just on the other side of his house away from the main living area. Harry wanted his studio to be as convenient as possible whenever he was at home.Y/N absolutely loved it since she got to stay a bit longer at his place while she watched him and his band rehearse. Some nights, she would lay on one of his couches watching him write music. It was such a sight to see.

She carefully walks around the loose wires before approaching the man who sits on the stool, playing random chords on his guitar.

“Hey.” He replies back to her greeting as he scratches his nose. He bares no mind to her, however, as he looks back down at the strings. That’s weird usually, he would open his arms to hug me.

“It’s getting kind of late… Maybe, we should head back upstairs?” She encourages softly as she looks around the messy room. There were papers scattering the floor along with some snacks left from his bandmates earlier from today. 

“You go ahead. I think I’ll be staying here a bit longer.” He suggests nonchalantly without trying to get closer to her. It was quite obvious by the way he flinched when she started walking closer to him. Y/N didn’t want to admit it but Harry has been acting a bit strange. These last few days, he couldn’t let her out of his sight but now it seems like he’s been trying to avoid her anytime she’s in the same room as him. 

Y/N bites her lip as she moves behind him to rub his shoulders. “What happens if I get lonely in bed?” Her tone of voice changes as she asks him the question. She couldn’t help but let her thumbs slide against the back of his neck. She could still feel the goosebumps that form on his soft skin because of her. It reassured her that Harry hasn’t flipped the switch on her at least not yet.

“Love, if you want to go to sleep. Go to sleep.” He takes her hands off of him. He tries to keep the tone of his voice as soft as possible. He didn’t want to make her upset. He just needed to think-have some space! Sadly after hours of practicing with his band today, he still can’t get her out of his mind. 

But what’s the problem with having your girlfriend on your mind throughout the day? Nothing is wrong with it! Matter of fact, you should think about your partner but for Harry, it’s different.  After feeling the need to have her in his arms all the time, he found himself in bed wide awake. He couldn’t stop thinking of how beautiful she is. How good she smelled -how irresistible she is! The short story is he seemed to have come to the conclusion that he’s falling in love with her. And yes, that’s cool and all but he’s scared out of his fucking mind. The last relationship where he was so sure he was in love with the girl, she cheated on him! Of course, Y/N would never do that but is he ready to put himself out there? Is he ready to tell her how he feels? Is he even ready to admit it to himself and stop with the shitty anxiety?

“Wow. Un fucking believable.” His girlfriend takes a step back as she combs her hand through her hair. “Harry, if you’re too tired of me being here I think I should just leave! You barely acknowledged me today anyway!” Y/N snaps. She was starting to get annoyed from this unfamiliar cold side he was showing her. Harry’s eyes widen as he watches her face form into a frustrated expression. Y/N tries to walk away from him but Harry puts his guitar down in a flash and grabs her wrist. 

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about being tired of you.” He stands up and holds the side of her face. She had a permanent pout due to her boyfriend being a big meanie today. “Don’t be mad bub… please.”

“I’m not mad -I’m confused!” Y/N tries to reason as she pulls away from him. “You’re being a total meanie today!” She plays with the string on her short shorts as she looks at him. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Harry pulls her in again and rests his hands on her hips. He could feel just how warm she is and it was making his mind go wild. He was starting to regret how he didn’t wake her up with his head in between her soft thighs this morning. Firstly it was because he missed her taste. Secondly, he couldn’t stop thinking of the little O her mouth makes when she’s about to come in his mouth. “I just have a lot on my mind and I needed some space to think.” 

“I’m sorry.” Her hands rest on his chest as she rubs them slowly. She loved the way his hard chest felt beneath her palm. “I’ll just go.” She tries to take his hands off her waist but Harry holds onto her a bit tighter. 

“I think I changed my mind though.” He licks his lip as he raises her shirt a bit up to slide his hands underneath. His thumbs run through her soft waist as the rest of his fingers play a bit upwards. His mind was suddenly cured of his anxiety as he could see her hard nips through the thin fabric. 

“What do you need?” Y/N plays pretend -trying to act all innocent. Truth be told, the moment he pulled her into his arms, she could see the hunger in him as his eyes became darker. 

“So many things I want to do to you. I don’t even want to waste my time bringing this back to our bedroom.” Harry slowly leans in to kiss her lips down to her jaw. 

“Wait s-so here?” She stutters as she feels his wet mouth travel down her neck. Her hands began to hold onto his shoulders a bit tighter due to the feeling of his tongue and his teeth alternating affection to a specific spot on her neck. Harry nods as he takes off her shirt in a hurry and throws it somewhere in the room. 

“God, I fucking love your titties.” He moans as he attaches his lips back onto her chest. He grabs both of them, squeezing them in his palms as his fingers play with her nipples. He awkwardly bent down a bit so he could take one of her nips in his mouth. His wet tongue circling around before gently sucking on the most sensitive spot. Y/N was a mess as she tried to stay still but the moment she felt him bite her right nipple, she couldn’t help but fall back a bit. Harry moans as he applies more pressure on her other boob, squeezing it and letting his thumb and index finger play with the other nub that's begging for attention. 

Her body unwantedly takes a step back as the mic stand behind her falls leaving Harry to pull away from the sudden thud. “Oh shit!” He laughs as he quickly moves around her to pick up the fallen metal. “You gotta be careful there love,” He couldn’t help but look at her chest again as he turned his attention back on her.

“I have to be careful? You bit me! You know that fucks me up.” Y/N whines. As soon as she felt the mic stand fall, she fell out of this bubble of wanting to have sex in her boyfriend’s studio. First off, he had way too much expensive equipment and also, too many wires. Secondly, she was scared his friends would find out about it. What happens if she forgets her panties here! She urgently tries to look for her shirt, ignoring her boyfriend who seemed really calm. Harry was taking off his shirt as a confused look played on his face. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for my shirt, H. We can’t have sex in here! You have all your equipment laying around.” Y/N tries to cover her breast from the cold room as Harry continues to strip. She knew what he was doing but she really could not let this happen -so she pretended to be oblivious to it all. He unbuckles his belt without saying anything as he watches his half-naked girlfriend look around. Funny thing is Y/N was trying so hard to pay no mind to him until she notices in her peripheral vision that he’s standing beside her naked, just touching himself!

“What are you doing?” She whispers as she looks at him. In all honesty, what turned her on the most was when Harry touched himself. He looked so hot while he did it. He would watch his hand fist himself as his eyes lazily closed shut. Especially right now -he’s so desperate to fuck her that even though she’s getting dressed, he’s decided to just jerk off.

“You don’t want me to fuck you baby so I guess I gotta do it myself -in here.” He tries to hide his smirk as he watches his girl drool a bit. He knew just how to get her hooked. From the way her cheeks turn red all the way to how her chest quickly rises -he already knew how wet she was. He can already imagine how heavenly she’s going to feel like when he pulls down those little shorts she likes to wear.

“I-” Harry’s tongue pokes his inner cheek as he watches her stutter. He slowly thrusts his dick in his hand as he walks to her right, picking up her shirt off Sarah’s drums. 

“Found your shirt. You can head to bed baby, I just gotta finish up in here.” He gives it to her as he winks. She’s speechless from seeing his hard dick in his hand. He stands just a few feet from her as he watches the way his dick leaks a bit of precum. “Aw fuck.” He moans out. His pink lips forming in a small o as he watched his red tip shoot some of his cum out.

He couldn’t help but bite his lip at how hot it was for his girlfriend to be watching him. Pretending not to care about his audience, he moves his palm a bit more upwards so his thumb could slide a bit of the liquid off his tip. “You want some? A little snack for your way up?” He gestures his hand towards Y/N. “Come on baby, don’t be shy I know you like the way daddy tastes.” He confidently walks closer to her. His free hand grasping her chin as his thumb plays with her pretty pink lips. He opens it softly as his other thumb slides in her mouth. Y/N couldn’t help but moan a bit as she looked him straight in the eyes while she sucked on his digit. His free hand grabs her left titty in his hand again, giving it a big squeeze. “You like that, don’t you?” Y/N nods as he pulls his hand away from her wet mouth. “Okay, bye.” He drops his free hand immediately as he gets back into rubbing his dick. 

Y/N stands there dumbfounded as she watches his mouth open a bit. She loved it when he touched himself but she was jealous of how his mouth was opening from the way he was thrusting himself in his hand. She wanted to make him act like that. She wanted to be the one to make him feel good!

Without another word, she drops her shirt and kneels on the floor in front of him. “What are you doing?” Harry smirks as he watches Y/N’s cheeks turn red. “You want it?” She nods silent, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Say it baby or else daddy is going to continue on.” 

“I want your cock.” Harry smiles proudly as he walks away. Y/N was confused at first but then she realized he was grabbing the office chair behind his computer for production. Harry pushes the chair in front of her and sits on it while playing with his member a bit more. “Can I now?” She pouts as she watches him enjoy himself again. 

“Open your mouth.” Harry taps her cheek with his dick. Once she obeyed, he let his dick go so she can give him all her attention. 

Y/N grabs his swollen cock in her hands as she pumps the base. She glanced a bit at Harry who seemed to be gripping the armrest on his side a bit too harsh. She was honestly drooling of how he looked. His head leaning back on the chair as he sat there watching her on her knees. How his chest was starting to rise quicker and quicker. For God’s sake! His teeth were biting his bottom lip without mercy! She loved it so much.

As she continued to pump him slowly, she placed her hot wet mouth on his tip -swirling her tongue around him while she began to go deeper and deeper. Harry took his hand off the armrest to hold her up, making it into a makeshift ponytail. 

“You look so good like this baby. You like my cock don’t you. You’re going to let me fuck your mouth?” Harry couldn’t help but blabber. After purposely avoiding her today, all he wanted to do was fuck her so hard so she wouldn’t be upset with him anymore. 

“Mmm.” Y/N murmurs as she takes as much as she can in her mouth. Her hands playing with his balls -making sure to apply the right pressure. She personally couldn’t deepthroat but she loves it when Harry would be so horny that he would force his dick down her throat. She loved feeling her eyes becoming wet as he would hold onto her hair so tightly. 

Harry leans down to kiss her forehead, his hands softly running through her scalp. As he sits back onto his chair again, he holds his girlfriend’s hair while she blew him. Y/N pulls away leaving kitten licks all over him. She needed to tease him -make him go crazy. 

“Fuck, can I fuck your mouth baby… please!” Harry begs as he watches her tongue wander around him. She reaches over and kisses his pelvic bone with a sweet smile and Harry knew just from there, tonight was going to be so much more different than the others. 

Harry grabs his dick as aims in her mouth. He sits up a bit as he smooths his baby’s scalp. He knew he was going to fuck up her throat but the least he could do was show some love right now. Harry’s hips thrust slowly in her mouth as soft quiet moans leave his mouth. Y/N was getting excited from the way she could see his vein in his throat becoming bigger. 

Before she knows it, Harry thrusts himself in her mouth a bit harder. She finds herself making eye contact with him as her body begins to fidget. From his sudden force, she had no choice but to sit on her knees while she held onto his thighs. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry if you get a sore mouth tomorrow but fu-fuck me -oh God.” Harry pulls her hair tighter as he fucks her mouth. He could see the tears forming in her eyes and although it may seem to scare a guy in love, he absolutely loved it. “Shit, we gotta stop.” Harry pulls himself out of her. He pumps himself once before standing up and helping her up as well. “You okay, baby.” He pulls her into him. 

“Yeah.” Her cheeks were very red as her hair was also a mess. 

“Can I fuck you in here? I know it’s a bit messy but fucking you in here turns me on so badly.” He kisses her. His hand rests on her face as he leads her into opening her mouth a bit so his tongue can enter too. Y/N moans as her hands intertwine with his hair. She could feel him untying the knot on her shorts while his other hand grabbed and played with her breast. 

“Lie on the floor,” Harry instructs her as he pulls away once again. Y/N obeys as she sits on the plush carpet. She was praying that whatever Harry planned on doing, it wouldn’t end with her having a massive carpet burn. Harry smirks as he watches her already opening her legs. He eagerly pulls her shorts and her panties off. “Fuck look how wet you are.” He kneels down in front of her as his finger plays with her wetness. He takes a large amount on his finger and brings it up to his mouth so he can have a taste. “So fucking sweet baby.” He closes his eyes and takes in her taste. “Suck.” He brings his two clean fingers and gestures it to her. Y/N opens her mouth as she leans on her elbows, taking him in again. As he pulls away, he leans more closer to her to give her a kiss on the mouth. His mouth slowly trickles down from jaw to her neck. Just when she thought he was done, Harry further brings his mouth down to the middle of her breast. He continues to watch her face as his mouth teasingly circles both of her nipples. His tongue dipping down to her stomach until he reaches her heat. 

“Harry fuck. What are you waiting for?” Y/N whines as she watches his dark eyes look down at her wet centre. 

“I love teasing you.” He smirks as his fingers instantly thrust in her. Just as she was about to moan, he pulls out. 

“Harry!”

“You sure you want to be calling me that right now?” He moves himself a bit more down so he can kiss her thighs. He leaves kitten licks all over the inside of her thighs but for some reason, he loved her left inner thigh. He loved sucking on it and licking on a specific spot that made his girl go crazy. That made her fidget underneath him!

“Daddy please!” She begs as she finally lays completely on the floor. She closes her eyes as she grabs her tits. 

“Fuck you look so good playing with yourself.” Harry moans as one of his fingers play with the lips of her pussy. His other hand seemed a bit too busy touching himself. Y/N opens her eyes as she stares at the fairy lights hanging around her boyfriend’s ceiling. She continues to touch herself while she feels Harry’s finger dancing around her needy core, acting as if he didn’t know what to do. She was about to reach down and fuck herself but suddenly, she felt her boyfriend’s spit sliding down her, all the way to her bottom. 

Harry quickly leans down eating her out as his other fingers continue to thrust in her. He had to pull away a bit to put one of her legs on his shoulders. It was a bit hard since they were laying on the ground but as he watched her, falling apart surrounded by instruments, he knew this was a perfect idea. His hand continues to thrust into her at a fast rhythm. He pulled his mouth away and unhooked her leg off him so he could reach over to her and suck her fucking nipples again. I mean let’s face it. He loved her titties too much. His other hand chokes her just a bit as he fucked his hand faster in her. 

“Come on baby, ride my fingers. Let me make you come.” His raspy voice whispers as his thumb reached her sensitive nub to rub it. His little beard tickled her a bit as he continued to praise her body. He left kisses all over her and made sure to leave some marks wherever he could. 

Y/N moans out loudly as she cums from the intense pressure building in her stomach. Harry doesn’t stop fucking his fingers in her. He makes sure to curve his fingers while he fucks her faster. By the time, she could try to push him away, she could feel him pull his fingers out and replace it with his cock. He didn’t insert it but he slid his dick all over her wet core so he could lubricate himself. 

Y/N looks at Harry while she watches him stare at their centres rubbing against each other and fuck, it looked so hot. So fucking hot. Harry catches her looking at him and he couldn’t help but smile. He brings his thumb to her mouth, pulling her bottom lip out. 

“You ready to get fucked. I wanna fuck your pussy so hard.” He smirks as he stares at her. “Isn’t it nice the room is soundproof.” Harry winks as he teases his tip in her entrance. 

“Daddy.” She softly whimpers at the feeling. Harry pulls away and stands up again while he looks around the room. “What are you looking for?” She pouts and closes her legs from his sudden action of standing up. Harry bites his lip as he touches himself a bit. He’s such a tease.

“I’m looking at some places where I wanna fuck you.” He looks down at her and smirks. Harry helps her off the floor before leading her to the black leather couch.

 “First let’s start with something a bit vanilla. At least in my opinion.” Harry smirks as he opens her legs again. His hands run smoothly against her legs as he looks at her wet core. He leans a bit more forward so he can put his hard dick in her wet tight hole. 

“Fuck!” Y/N moans as she feels him thrust himself in her fully without a pause. “I didn’t stretch you enough, did I? You feel so fucking tight.” Harry brings her left leg on top of his shoulder. He continues to speed up his rhythm as he leaves small kisses on her ankle. He was watching her the whole time. How her eyes fell back on the soft cushion. How her nails were scratching the leather while her other hand slipped through between them so she can feel his dick entering her. 

“Daddy, fuck. You’re so big.” Truth be told, Y/N sometimes cringed when she spoke a bit dirty. She felt a bit stupid for saying things like that but after meeting Harry, she found herself not caring about her filter. He must’ve been fucking her so good that she forgot all about her insecurities. 

Harry moans as his hand reaches her neck. “Fuck.” He squeezes her a bit harder as he glances down at her tits that continue to move up and down from the force he was implying. Harry puts her leg down and spits on her wet center again. His tip spreads it around as they both look at it, drooling at how fucking hot it looked like. “You mind if I fuck you against the wall?” Harry pants as he looks at the soft square cushions on the wall. Y/N looks at where he’s looking at and smiles. Without a word, she reaches both of her arms up so Harry could pick her up. He picks her up and carefully brings them towards a clear wall. He rests his girl on the surface as her legs cling onto him. He moves a bit so he can insert himself into her again.

“Uh.” Harry moans the same time she does. He begins to fuck her again harder than last time They’ve kind of been edging themselves so this was probably the last one before Harry bends her over his desk so he can ruin her. 

“Fuck.” She whispers as she looks at him. Y/N places a hand on his face as they look at each other. Harry kisses her and they both moan as his pace quickens. His hands were both holding her up as he squeezed her bottom. 

Instantly, she was no longer on a wall but Harry brought them to his big production desk where he works with Kid and Jeff at times. He sits her on the desk while he fucks into her harder. They both look at their parts connecting. How wet his cock is and he continues to thrust faster and faster into her.

“Oh my god, daddy! Fuck!” Y/N moans as Harry quickens his pace with impossible speed. His hands grabbing at whatever he could -grabbing at the flesh on her hips, her squishy titties, her soft appealing neck that was begging to be choked. 

“You like that baby? Do you like it when daddy ruins you? Stretching you out so fucking good because you deserve it, baby. You really do.” He leaves a wet kiss on her jaw while his hand holds onto her face while he fucks her. 

“I- fuck!” Y/N cries out as he fucks her harder. “I’m going to come!” “Come on baby. You feel so good around on me.” and without another second, Y/N comes while Harry fucks her harder as he rubs her throbbing clit.

“Fuck.” He glances down at them as he closes his eyes. “Baby, give me one more!”

“I can’t.” Y/N scratches his back while he fucks her. “Daddy! Daddy!” She whines. Harry pulls out without another word carrying her behind his piano. 

“I know you have another one in you. Come on baby, you’re dripping right now. I want to cum in you so badly.” Harry turns her over and pushes her against the piano. Her hands harshly grip on the edge as she tries her best not to let her elbows fall onto the keys. “You look so hot, bent over my fucking piano baby.”

Harry inserts himself again from behind and fucks her. He fucks her fast without a doubt. He grabs her hair and pulls onto it harshly as the other hand reaches over her to continue rubbing. He may secretly have been wanting her to squirt again. Last time she did it, he couldn’t get the picture out of his for a month straight. He would be having a conversation with his friends and he would still be thinking about it! “Fuck, Daddy!” Harry thrusts into her, barely catching his breath. His palms slapping her right butt cheek. He loved watching it turn red. 

“Come on baby. Give daddy one more. I know you have it in you. Clench around my cock, let me feel how fucking good you are” He continues to slap her ass as he pulls onto her hair. He spits again, watching his saliva lubricate them once more. 

“Fuck faster!” Y/N cries out as she feels herself lean in, making the piano keys go off yet neither of them was startled since they were too busy, trying to make the pleasure last. “Daddy! Holy- fuck me - oh my god! Oh my fucking god!” She yells out in pleaser. Harry smacks her ass harder as he takes both of his hands and grips her waist so he can fuck her right. “Harry oh fuck.”

Harry pulls her off the piano and back onto the couch. He lays her on the couch as he hovers over her. He thrusts faster and faster, choking her as she pulls onto his hair and scratches his chest. “I’m going to cum.” He chokes out as he continues to stare at her intensely. “Fuck, you keep clenching like that, I’m gonna blow before you do.” Y/N had to admit it. For some reason, Harry had the best stamina from any guy she has been with. 

“Fuck!” Y/N comes for the third time, almost instantly, Harry cums as well. His hot liquid shoots in her as he slowly thrusts in her. 

“Oh god, I fucking love you.” He closes his eyes and kisses her. He loves it here. He loves her. His eyes almost widened immediately as he realized he just blurted it out. “Y/N, I-” his eyes full of worry as he searched for the rejection in her eyes. Y/N smiles as she pulls Harry back into her arms.

“I love you too H. I really do.” After that, Harry and she closed their eyes a bit as they listened to their hearts beat in sync. They were almost asleep but as time passed, Harry knew they couldn’t sleep on this couch for the whole night. He wanted his girl to sleep on the soft bed upstairs. So he stood up and left for the washroom so he could get a towel and clean his girl up. He helped her dress up as he fixed himself up too. He looked at his phone to notice it was already 2 AM. 

“I would really love to walk back upstairs with you but I can’t feel my legs.” Y/N blushes as she plays with her shirt. Harry just laughs as he puts her used panties in his pocket and turns over so he could give her a piggyback ride. 

They both leave the room as Y/N lazily closes her eyes while holding onto their phones. Her squishy cheek lays on his shoulder as she feels him carry her to the bedroom. “Harry?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you were avoiding me today? Because you love me?” She was just curious. She was happy that she snapped at him earlier tonight or else she wouldn’t have known how he felt nor have mind-blowing sex with him.

“Yes, bub. I wanted to think about it more and let you know a bit more later but I realized that I had to tell you.” his voice was raspy as he turned the last light off before walking up the stairs.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too.” 

[phoenixyfriend]

A Smattering of Ideas for a Neji Time-Travel Fic

[EDIT: okay so viewing the post on dash or sidebar blog completely ruins the bullet nesting for some reason. Please open it in a new tab.]

Okay so I actually wrote the first chapter or two of this like... almost a decade ago probably, but the concept was:

Neji, upon dying, gets sent back, and he's perfectly healthy again, pretty much exactly as he was just before getting mokuton-stabbed... except the seal damage wasn't reversed, so he's blind.

I think he ended up like riiiiiight before the Hyuuga Incident, so about of age with Kakashi & co.

But yeah like imagine telling Hiashi about it.

We have a new Jounin! It's a blind Hyuuga.

His seal is gone! He's technically your nephew.

He needs to be retrained for blindness! He needs to be protected for the information he carries.

He's a time-traveler!

Have fun.

The Hyuuga clan has like a million things going on but future Neji is just finding his younger self and Hinata to cuddle them.

He can't see shit but he Needs To Hug Baby Hinata

She's so small? She needs to be protected?

"Sir, you're blind now." "If Lee can be a ninja without chakra, I can be a ninja without eyes." "Sir. Sir that's--that's not the same thing, you can't--SIR." "I'll ask Hatake for advice." "He's still got half of his--SIR!"

Neji is a genius, if there's anyone who can pivot their entire fighting style from "I can see everything" to "I don't need to see anything" it's someone like him. Especially with the "I need to protect all these smols and be strong enough to force people to take my advice seriously if necessary" motivation

BUT But But for the first few days, it's just like. Sir. I understand you want to protect this small child, but you walked into three walls in the past hour. Please st--sir.

Fun option is "Neji spills all the beans... to Hiashi, not the Hokage."

Hiashi: Okay so like. Give me a few days to come up with a cover story for your existence. Neji: That's fair. Hiashi: Do. Do you want me to send in Hizashi or...? Neji: I'll tell him the truth if you do. Hiashi: That's, uh... that's fine. Neji: Then yes. Please. Hiashi, thoroughly unnerved for a variety of reasons: Right. I'll go do that.

Relevant: "Stop trying to convince me to put the Caged Bird Seal on a man who is already blind."

Since that's the ostensible reasoning of the seal, and like. You can't make that argument about keeping the eyes safe when the eyes don't... work.

Courtesy of @firebirdeternal​, along with a bunch of other stuff but especially this:

ooooh feels moment: Neji starts his retraining to become Strong Enough without his eyesight, guess who sees him working his ass off to overcome a disadvantage and thinks "Oh, there's a person I should Be Friends With!"

Part of me just went "Gai gets injured on a mission and, while waiting out his medical leave, gets assigned to Neji as a guide/sparring partner"

Or, well, not assigned. He's just doing one-armed pushups in the training yard with a cast on half his limbs after breaking out of the hospital and zeros in on Neji like "Ah yes, medically inadvisable training, a Bonding Activity!"

Neji goes from "I can see everything" to "I can't see shit but if you're within arms reach you're fucked"

A lot of it comes down to Neji building up non-Byakugan sensing abilities, I think?

It won't help him read, but it'll sure help him avoid getting punched.

I think that's really the crux of his New Style, however he works it out, instead of having this Massive Range of perfect perception he just trains his other senses until he still has that perfect perception effectively, just in like a two foot radius around his person

and then he goes full Rock Lee and trains speed and reaction time until that two feet is enough

I want Daredevil-style bitchiness at some point, in the "Okay, I'm sure the contract is lovely, but do you have it in braille, perhaps?" sense

And Toph-style stuff

Genma, in the Jounin lounge: "Hey guys I think I've got a design finished for the new tattoo I'm gonna get, what do ya'll think?" 'holds up scroll' Kakashi: "Why would you get a tattoo of an ugly couch?" Genma: "It's not an ugly couch it's the Hokage Monument!" Neji: "It looks perfect to me" Genma: "Thank you! I worked really hard on-..... why do you feel the need to do these things."

Also I want Neji to have the same approach as Matt to a cane. He can make do without it, but it sure does make his life easier when he's off-duty.

Like, yes if he focuses his entire, highly trained person, on perceiving his surroundings, he can sense his way around. But that is very tiring

Like that is a lot of work to be doing, when you are just trying to get to the coffee shop for a bagel

Neji learns Sage Mode solely because he wants to be able to tree-hop again

Neji visits Kakashi like "I can't ask the Inuzuka for this because their dogs are clan-specific, but do you know where I can find a guide dog that can double as a ninken in the field?"

Neji asking Gai to help him pick out a feminine yukata because if ANYONE is going to not judge...

Listen I'm just really invested in what Naruto SD told us about how often Neji cross-dresses

Someone asked me which summons Neji learns Sage Mode from, and 

I mean, Hashirama supposedly just. Learned it? Without summons?

So maybe Neji does that and just learns from Jiraiya or something

Though it's not... particularly safe.

Birdie had the best response

learning it Without a Summon is very much in the vein of Neji's past attitudes towards Special Secret Techniques, given that he learned the Kaiten with no help even though it was a Secret Technique of the Hyuuga.

"I know it's possible to do, so the hard part is already over, the rest is just figuring it out and doing it"

Neji: I'm here, I'm queer, I'm blind as fuck.

Neji hanging out with Gai and Kakashi is, admittedly, not that different from hanging out with Lee and TenTen

Kakashi is a bit more likely to join in on the shenanigans than Tenten was, but he's still just as available for "We're judging you" sessions

Neji, sipping tea as Gai yells: this is my comfort zone.

Neji with a white cane: This is my whacking stick. Hiashi: Don't you mean walking stick? Neji: No.

Because... what ninja wouldn't ensure that any normal part of their daily life was fit for battle.

Like if Karin can hide lockpicks in a photo and a knife in her glasses, Neji can ensure his white cane is suitable for battle.

(Going off the earlier Daredevil comparisons, I’d say this is similar to Matt turning his cane into billy clubs sometimes.)

Neji, assuming the role of Chief Babysitter for SmolNeji and Hinata, senses Lee and Tenten at the park. Nudges SmolNeji: "Go, be friends with them"

SmolNeji, watching Lee faceplant into the dirt while trying to jump off the swing while Tenten chases two boys around with a weird frog she found: ".... why"

Neji: "Just trust me"

Also consider older Neji giving baby Hinata shoulder rides

Baby Hinata is delighted by this whole affair.

More time with big brother, and a new even bigger brother? Best times.

Bigger brother needs help reading sometimes and Hinata is so excited to help. Hiashi even approves because helping older Neji read things like menus and the like is helping Hinata learn how to read, so it benefits everyone.

Consider also: Neji encouraging the smols to play with bby Naruto, a Hyuuga elder (or possibly Hiashi, but I want him to be a confused accomplice) complains exactly once and Neji exudes such a powerful "Do not test me" energy that he just kind of. Drops it.

Neji's attitude towards baby Naruto is somewhere between "They're good dogs Brent" and "I died for him once already, do you think I'd hesitate to kill?" and it depends entirely on how seriously he thinks you're talking shit about him

Neji plays with the smols, including smol Naruto, by just being the Perfect Straight Man. Just taking every nonsense thing Naruto says Completely Seriously and using deadpan reactions to chaos to make them giggle. This drifts into Feels for Naruto when he's the first adult who takes his "I'm gonna be the Hokage" completely seriously

"Of course, chibi-Hokage-sama"

Hiashi: "What.... are you.... doing?" Neji: "Ah, Hiashi-sama. Please exercise caution, the floor has mysteriously transformed into molten rock. I suspect enemy action, but have no further intelligence at this time" SmolNeji, Hinata, and Naruto: 'wild giggling as they dangle from rafters/stand balanced precariously on chairs'

Hiashi takes one step into the room and all the kids start screaming so loud he steps back out in shock

Neji out in Konoha just Causing Shit with plausible deniability

Listen. Neji is PETTY.

Someone describes Naruto as "the annoying blonde child with the whiskers, you know, the skin brat" and Neji says "I'm a sensor and have encountered no demonic chakra"

"okay just avoid the blonde kid with the whiskers"

"I don't know how to tell you this..." 

"Sir, I know you're new in town, but that kid isn't really good news--" "A child can't be news unless they're recently born." "No, I mean, didn't anyone tell you to avoid the blonde kid with the whiskers?" "Naruto's blonde?"

Possibly "Hinata's blonde?"

He just, aggressively misunderstands that any insinuation about Naruto is about the Hyuuga heir instead

Birdie said they like the idea that he uses the aggressive deliberate misunderstanding to force people to either be embarrassed by how they're acting by having to spell it out or give up in quieter shame

Sometimes Neji gets tired of being obtuse and just lets Gai do it for him

Gai babysits on occasion, SmolNeji is aghast, Hinata mostly just confused, Naruto is delighted

Naruto is just Stars In Eyes about Gai

Kakashi: this is not the excuse I expected to have for visiting Naruto but I'm taking it

[penguinsledder]

look into your eyes (and the sky’s the limit)

Rating: K+ (maybe T for some crass language?) Word Count: 4.8k Genre: Romance, FLUFF

ff.net | AO3 | ko-fi

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he said with a smile, his eyes never leaving hers. 

A fluffy in-universe Kataang AU where Aang saves the world without her, and they meet after the war instead. If you’ve ever wanted to read love at first sight Kataang, pining!Katara, and smack in the middle of charming and dorky!Aang, this might be up your alley. Inspired by the song “Helpless” from Hamilton. For @kataang-week‘s Kataang Valentine’s Bash 2021, with the prompt pair air and water.

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE’S YALL! Before you read this I must also plug the absolute cutest crossover art by tumblr user @minky-for-short, which also served as an inspiration for this fic. Aang’s 15 here, btw, and Katara’s 17.

This is by far the LONGEST oneshot I’ve written (it was originally supposed to be so short but it got away from me) and … here we go.

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or Hamilton.

--

Katara was not enjoying herself.

She’d only been back at the South for a week when they’d received word of a grand ball at the Earth Kingdom palace, celebrating the anniversary of the reclamation of Ba Sing Se. And while her father and brother were no strangers to these events as the Southern Chief and Ambassador, Katara was very well a fish out of water.

Sure, she’d attended some functions as a master waterbender during her stay at the North, but it was never anything of this magnitude. The glittering gold and jade green that colored the walls were far cries from all the icy whites and blue she was accustomed to all her life. Her gaze swept the room as she took in the hundreds of people gathered, all dressed to the nines in the latest fashion of their nation.

She herself wore a high-collared ocean blue dress with fur trimmings. She decided to wear her hair down for the occasion, but kept her signature tiny braids so she wouldn’t look too different (hair loopies, she could already hear her brother saying). Patterned white and blue bracelets adorned both her arms, standing out against her brown skin. Animal hide boots just peeked out from underneath her long skirt, completing her unmistakably Water Tribe look.

It was one she wore with pride. However as the night went on, she was realizing that if the room were any marker, the Water Tribes were very few compared to the populations of the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation. On top of that, the Southern Water Tribe was almost completely cut off from the world during the war, so their specific styles hadn’t been seen by the rest of the world in years. And how different they really were—the garb she wore seemed almost out of place alongside the silk robes and dainty shoes common to both larger nations. She’d even been getting looks from different people, some curious, some confused, and some just plain rude.

As if to drive the point home, a gaggle of giggling Earth Kingdom girls with powder-white faces passed by and gave her a cold once over, making her face burn. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear self-consciously as she heard the click of a tongue, then more muffled giggles before they went on their merry way.

She was highly considering bending some of the nearby punch onto their faces when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Enjoying the party?” She stopped, sighing—it could only be one person.

“No,” she grumbled as she turn to face him. He stood out from the crowd just as much as she did, though he was clad in garments colored a shade darker than hers. “You shouldn’t have brought me here, Sokka. This isn’t my job.”

“Oh, lighten up, little sister!” He elbowed her. “You deserve a break after all that training at the North Pole.”

“That’s why I went home! I wanted to spend some quiet time back home, not at some grand party where I don’t know anybody,” she said, gesturing wildly.

He scoffed. “You’re practically the princess of the South Pole. Think of it as political work.”

She smirked, seeing her opening. “Princess, huh? You introduced yourself as a prince, didn’t you?”

“It’s not not true,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure they were very impressed,” she said dryly.

“Of course she was!”

“Oh, so it’s a she, huh?” she said giddily. The joy she derived from teasing her brother was truly unparalleled.

“Well, how about you?” he goaded her, changing the topic. “Met any guys tonight?”

“A few guys have said ‘hey’ here and there,” she said nonchalantly. “They were … eh.”

“Wow, you truly have a way with words, Katara.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Listen, they’re boring. We barely make it past a few sentences.”

Sokka pursed his lips as he studied her. “Ah, maybe it’s because of that.” He pointed at her neck.

“Mom’s necklace?” she said skeptically.

“It’s a betrothal necklace, right?”

“In the North,” she stressed. “We all know it’s just a regular necklace in the South.”

“Ok, but we don’t know what they’re thinking. Here.” He reached over to tuck her necklace into her high collar. “Now you don’t give off ‘I’m engaged’ signals.”

“Hooray, just undeniably single now,” she deadpanned. “Look, it’s probably not that, they’re also just … not my type.”

“Oh? And what is your type?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

A blush crept into her cheeks. “I don’t know. Tall? Handsome? Thinks waterbending is great?” She shook her head. “Come to think of it, some of them get weird when we talk about waterbending.”

A look of understanding crossed her brother’s face. “Ah.”

“What?”

“Listen, Katara. I know you’re like the first waterbending master from the South in decades, and the first female one in the North, but …”

“Are you calling me a show-off?” she said indignantly.

“No!” He raised his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying that some men don’t like that. They got a lot of pride, and they get … intimidated when a woman is—”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well good, because I don’t want them either. Just because I’m of marrying age doesn’t mean I—” She stopped, suddenly distracted as a tall, striking figure entered her field of vision.

He was clad in autumn-colored robes that weren’t quite as fancy as the red and green ones she’d seen earlier. He seemed to be around her age, and she couldn’t deny that he possessed a certain handsomeness—one that was boyish and yet mature at the same time. She looked on as he chatted animatedly to King Kuei himself, and another young man she assumed to be Fire Nation royalty from the royal hairpiece and his regal red and black outfit.

However, what intrigued her the most was the powder blue marking that arched over his bald head. It seemed to be a tattoo of some sort, and if she squinted, she could barely make out what seemed to be an arrow. It was a familiar symbol, but for some reason, she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was at that moment. She continued to stare as the boy burst out laughing at the Fire Nation man, and Katara felt a little flutter in her chest as a small smile escaped her—his energy was infectious.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sokka followed his sister’s eyes suspiciously, then let out a loud groan. “Oh … oh no. Of all the guys, Katara!”

“Wh—What are you talking about?” she snapped, looking away defensively.

She heard the sound of his palm hitting his forehead, something she was unfortunately all too familiar with. “I know I kind of expected you to meet a guy tonight but really? So many possible men here and you decide to go for the Fire Lord?”

“The Fire Lord? Huh? What—no!” she sputtered. “It’s not him!”

“Aha, so you were staring at someone!” he said accusingly, wagging a finger at her.

She watched tensely as Sokka thoughtfully stroked an imaginary beard on his chin. “The Earth King then?” Sokka cringed. “Really, Katara, you might wanna try—“

“What do you even think of me?” she fumed.

“Wait.” Sokka’s eyes went wide as he threw a quick glance back at the trio across the room. He gasped, and Katara braced herself. “The Avatar?”

Sokka’s words hit her like a bucket of cold water. The Avatar! Tui and La, how did she not recognize him?! “I—“ She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “The Avatar?” she asked as calmly as possible.

“Katara, you were practically eye-fucking him across the room!” Sokka hissed, then shuddered. “Spirits, it creeps me out to say that but it’s true.”

“Shut up, Sokka.” Her face was burning at this point, and it was taking all her self-control not to wrap her hands around his wolf tooth choker and throttle him.

He sighed, not seeming to hear her. “Well, I suppose he is single.”

“Wait, he is?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean, he’s a monk, right?

Sokka gave her a look that was in between a cringe and disbelief. “Oh, Katara, everyone makes a fuss about that! At any rate, I don’t think he’s … celibate. In fact, he’s practically the most eligible bachelor in the world, and trust me, it’s not due to a lack of choices.”

She deflated, looking down in embarrassment. Great, now she was just like all the dozens of fangirls who’d gotten starry-eyed over the Avatar. But there really was something about him that drew her like a magnet, and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with—

“Spirits, Katara, I think he’s looking at you too.”

She snapped her head back up, and to her shock, he indeed was looking right at her, seemingly awestruck. Sapphire crashed into silver, and he gave her a small, timid smile that made her feel like she was going to spontaneously combust right there and then.

Beside her, she heard Sokka groan. “Okay, he’s definitely looking at you. Guess that means I’m going to have to introduce you now.” He sighed, holding out his arm. “Come on.”

She looped an arm around her brother’s, and together, they walked across the room. Her heart sounding like a stomping herd of buffalo yaks, and she tried to ignore it by focusing on tucking some more loose strands behind her ears. When this was met with little success, she turned to fixing the folds of her dress with her free hand, unfortunately rumpling it even more than before. She only had enough time left to curse under her breath before they’d gotten close enough for Sokka to start getting the Avatar’s attention.

“Avatar Aang!” Sokka greeted him, waving at the young monk.

The young man looked up, a wide smile spreading across his face as he saw who had called. “Ambassador Sokka! It’s good to see you again,” he said as they clasped each other’s forearms in traditional Water Tribe greeting. The contrast between the Avatar’s lighter skin and her brother’s brown tone drew her attention, and she realized with a start that there were arrows on his arms and hands as well. “Are you here with Chief Hakoda?”

“Nah.” Sokka shook his head. “Dad had to take care of some business back at home, you know, with the reconstruction and all.”

“I see. And you’re with ….” He looked curiously at her, making her heart rate grow even more erratic.

“Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” she said, trying to sound confident. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A questioning look flashed across his features. “Southern Water Tribe?” he asked, glancing at Sokka.

“My sister.” Katara thought she saw a hint of relief touch his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Dad sent us here in his stead.”

“Thank you for ending the war, Avatar Aang. We’re greatly indebted to you,” she said, bowing deeply.

He held her gaze for what seemed to be the longest moment of her life before leaning down to take her hand and press a kiss to it. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he said with a smile, his eyes never leaving hers.

There was a pregnant silence as she dumbfoundedly took in his eyes, his words, his hand, his lips on her hand. Her mouth hung slightly ajar, and she was pretty sure Sokka’s was doing the same too.

“All right, this is too much for me,” Sokka finally said, breaking the tension. He raised his hands and started to back away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The pair watched as Sokka retreated, disappearing into the sea of party guests. Suddenly realizing that they were still in contact, Katara pulled her hand back and they both stood up straight, looking at anything but each other. After a few agonizing seconds, she attempted to start a conversation at the same time as he did, unfortunately, and the two got pushed back into an even more excruciating silence. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, the Avatar cleared his throat.

“So, I uh, I guess I haven’t properly introduced myself yet,” he said, awkwardly rubbing his neck and putting on the absolute cutest half-smile Katara had ever seen. “I’m Aang. No need for titles.”

“Aang,” she tested it out. It felt surprisingly natural. “Just call me Katara, then.”

“Okay, Katara.” An unexpected thrill went through her as he said her name, and she bit back a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve met with Sokka and Chief Hakoda a couple of times, and I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Oh really,” she said, cringing. “What did they say?”

“Hey, nothing bad!” he assured her quickly. “For starters, they said you were a waterbender, and you’ve been training at the North Pole.”

“Oh.” That put her a bit more at ease. “That’s true.”

“Not only that,” he went on. “But Chief Hakoda said you were excellent and the first North-trained female master in centuries! Master Pakku taught me too so … I know how big a deal that is,” he added cheekily.

“It definitely wasn’t easy convincing him,” she chuckled, fully relaxing. This was going better than every other conversation she’d had that night. “But he’s asked me to help him train his waterbending students, so I guess we’re on good terms.”

“That’s incredible! I’d personally love to see you waterbend sometime.”

Katara blushed. “What? No, I can’t—you’re the Avatar! What’s my bending going to look like to you of all people?”

He was unruffled. “Probably great. I can bend all four elements, but that doesn’t mean I’m the absolute best at them all. You can ask Toph.” He winced.

The waterbender laughed. Toph Beifong was collectively known as the greatest earthbender of all time, partly due to objective acknowledgement of her talents, and partly due to her constant self-declaration of it. “I’ll be sure to do that. Is she here tonight?”

“Nah, she’s busy with her own stuff these days. She’s found other students to yell at instead of me,” he said dryly.

“Good for you,” she said, grinning. “Anyway, I’d love to see you airbend sometime, too. I’ve never seen airbending before!”

Aang perked up immediately, looking excited as he reached into the folds of his robes. “Oh really?! Well, check this out!” He clasped his hands together for a second before parting them with a wicked grin.

Katara blinked. A couple of marbles were spinning around midair in between the Avatar’s palms. Aang looked at her eagerly, and she quickly tried to rearrange her confused shock into a (hopefully) impressed look.

“That’s uh—that’s great!” she said, and much to her relief, he didn’t seem to notice her hesitation.

“Right! This is my favorite trick,” he said proudly, before bringing his hands together again and returning the marbles to his pocket.

He’s a dork, she decided. An unexpected burst of affection swelled in her chest at the thought, and she decided she liked that about him.

“I’ve got another trick to show you,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts. Katara could have sworn there was an almost mischievous glint in his eye as he said that.

He looked pointedly at a nearby Earth Kingdom general wearing a cape, and she watched as he did several deft twisting motions with his left wrist. All of a sudden, a gush of wind threw the general’s cape up, flipping it over and consequently covering his face.

The pair exploded in a fit of giggles as their victim threw the cape off his face angrily, revealing a very red and livid face. He started cursing as he angrily searched for a suspect.

“Uh-oh.” Aang said, ducking his head. “We better get out of sight.” He paused for a moment, calculating.

“How—“

“Just take my hand.”

She looked at him like he was crazy, but his face told her he was dead serious. All things considered, trusting him did seem to be her best option at the moment. “Okay.”

The moment her hand was in his, he spun her around skillfully into his arms with one turn. She looked up at him incredulously. “Are we going to dance?”

“Oh no, we’re going to be doing some bending practice.” He grinned impishly, placing his free hand on her shoulder. She gulped.

“Just follow my lead, Master Katara.”

The tinkling of the bianqing echoed throughout the room to signal the transition of music, and she decided Aang must have been familiar with the piece, because they took off at the same time the erhu started with its first note.

He led her through the dance floor with utmost grace, blending the both of them seamlessly into the crowd. If Katara didn’t know any better, she would have thought they really were just dancing. But observing closely, she had never seen any dance quite like whatever Aang was doing—the spiraling movements, the ability to turn himself (and her) to a different direction at a moment’s notice. They might as well have been leaves in the wind.

So this was airbending, she thought.

However, as their little “dance” went on, she started to notice a hint of familiarity to their motions—the way he would alternate between drawing her towards him and holding her at arm’s length, the way the weight transferred back and forth between the two of them—unmistakably, there was also an ebb and flow to his breeze, a push and pull.

“Waterbending,” she breathed, low enough that he didn’t hear her. She’d read about how airbenders just trusted the air to let it carry them but she’d never realized how similar it could be to her element’s constant shift of energy. That is, until this display.

A deft spin pulled her out of her thoughts, and before she could process what was happening, she found herself mere inches away from his face. Argentine eyes took up her entire vision, and she could only hear their ragged breaths and beating hearts. Agonizingly slowly, the distance between them started to close, but it wasn’t until she felt his warm breath on her lips did she realize just how close they were.

“So,” she said, ducking her head in a panic and suddenly taking interest in the orchestra playing at the end of the ballroom. The music had quieted to a soft melody, and she fixed her gaze on the bamboo flute producing it. Her cheeks burned both at their almost-encounter, and she prayed to the spirits that her complexion was enough to hide it. “Flight and evasion. Very airbender.”

The Avatar blinked, then shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “You know for someone who says she’s never seen airbending, you sure seem to know a lot about it.” He lightly swayed them to the music, just enough to blend in without actually changing position.

She scoffed. “You’re the talk of the Four Nations, you know. Plus, Master Pakku told me that learning the bending styles of the other nations would help me greatly, so I read up at the North’s libraries while I was training there.”

“From firsthand experience, I can tell you it does help greatly.” He paused for a moment. “On that note, I’m curious if you’ve read anything about the Avatar.”

She shrugged. “Sure. Comes with the territory of the four elements.”

“So, how have I fared?” he probed playfully. “Living up to your textbook expectations?”

“Well for one, I didn’t expect the Avatar would be such an incurable prankster.”

She had to bite back a giggle as her partner did his best to feign offense. “Me? I’m just a simple monk,” he said innocently.

She laughed in earnest this time. “Could have fooled me. Do you always charm girls by kissing their hands and whisking them away to dance?”

“I—“ He stopped swaying. “You think I’m charming?”

Katara flushed. “I—“ She swallowed. “Um … sorry.”

“What? No, why are you apologizing?”

“Sorry, Aang, can we just drop this?”

“If it makes you feel better, I—I think you’re beautiful.” Katara froze, and the Avatar averted his gaze. “And um, to answer your question, no, this isn’t a regular thing.”

Katara’s world completely stopped. Did … Did the Avatar—did Aang just … what did that mean?

“Aang! There you are.” The two immediately jumped apart at the sound. Katara turned in its direction, and her panicked mind picked up various disjointed information about the approaching figure. Regal crimson robes, a golden headpiece, silky black hair, a scar … Sacred spirits, she realized with a start. “I’ve been loo—” The Fire Lord’s golden eyes flitted between their two flushed faces. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Katara desperately willed Aang to earthbend the ground to swallow them whole, but to her dismay, he had other plans. “No, nothing at all,” he said lightly, plastering an easy look onto his face. “Zuko, this is Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara, meet his fieriness himself, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Zuko ignored the last part. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Katara.” He touched a fist to his palm and bowed to her, and Katara returned the gesture graciously.

“The pleasure’s all mine, your honor.” Something in Zuko’s expression shifted, and to her even greater confusion, Aang snickered next to her. She decided she’d ask about it … some other time.

“Now, what was it you were saying, Sifu Hotman?” Aang asked, a grin still playing on his mouth.

Katara found it harder to stifle laughter as the Fire Lord scowled, making no effort to hide his annoyance at the nickname. “I’ve just gotten word about the New Ozai Society causing unrest back in Caldera City. I need to get back as soon as possible, and I wanted to ask if you could come with me.”

A sinking feeling came over her at the rueful look Aang shot her. He took a deep breath. “Of course. Let’s take Appa so it’s quicker.”

Zuko nodded. “Thank you, Aang. I’ll just take a bit to look for Mai, then we’ll meet you by Appa.” He looked over at her, bowing once more. “I apologize for the abruptness of this. But it was nice meeting you, Master Katara.”

She bowed back. “Same to you, Fire Lord Zuko.”

She watched numbly as the Fire Lord left. Well, what did she expect? He was the Avatar, for spirits’ sake! It was just her luck that she had to start falling for him, of all people. How did she ever think—why did she ever think something was possible?

And it’s not like she was sure he liked her back? Sure, he called her beautiful, but that could have meant nothing. Regardless, it was just so damn frustrating because something was there, and they were being pulled apart before they had a chance to make sense of it.

“Katara?” He said her name timidly. She turned to look at him. His silver eyes, which had been so light and playful earlier, were filled with sadness. “I—“

“You need to go.” Aang winced, and Katara felt a pang of regret—her words might have ended up sounding much icier than expected. “Aang, it’s not your fault. Keeping peace is the Avatar’s duty.”

He gave a small sigh. “Yes, it is. But that’s not what I was going to say.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. What was it then?”

“I wanted to tell you … I had fun tonight,” he said with a shy smile, easily melting her defenses once more. Spirits, what was with this boy? “I really enjoyed talking to you. And dancing with you.”

“I did too.” She hesitated. Nothing to lose, she told herself. “I … really wish we had more time.” She just knew she was blushing, but she had to try.

“Me too.” She was desperately racking her brain for something to say next, when Aang suddenly perked up.

“Could I write you?” Katara looked up, surprised. “I could send you a hawk once I get to the Fire Nation. And you can send me a letter back on the same hawk—it’d know where to find me. And I could visit you in the South Pole as soon as I can! If you want,” he added quickly.

Her initial shock soon dissipated and was replaced by warmth at his unabashed enthusiasm. He did like her. He was willing to try, and it was going to be hard, but he wanted to make it work.

And truthfully, so did she.

“Sounds perfect,” she told him.

Affection swelled in her as she watched his gray eyes brighten at her response. She listened as he excitedly rattle off a seemingly never-ending list of things they could do, ranging from something as mundane as trying out the local food to a seemingly surreal cloudbending trip (“We can take Appa!” “Okay, who is Appa?” “He’s my best friend.” “That we can ride on?” “Sure. He’s a flying bison.” “. . . oh. Neat!”)

There was really something about Aang that she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was his surprisingly troublemaker energy, or his catching enthusiasm. Maybe it was the way his native element just exuded from him in every way, and how easily it worked with hers. Or maybe, it was the way looking into his eyes was all it took for her to believe that cloudbending really was a thing they could do, despite her never having heard of it in her experience as a master waterbender. After all, sky seemed to be the limit with this airbender.

But even if she wasn’t yet sure what it was, she couldn’t be happier to know that they were going to have a chance to find out.

“… or you could show me around your village, and we could skate on some ice and I don’t know if this sounds weird but … will you go penguin sledding with me?”

She blinked. Penguin sledding. It was honestly one of the last things she ever thought she’d be doing on a date, and the whole thing was just so … unpredictable. And fun. And free. So … Aang.

“Of course,” she said, her face breaking into a smile.

He beamed at her. “Great! It’s a date!” He immediately blushed when he realized what he had just said. “I—I mean, the date, like you know, the fruit … not …”

That was it. He was just so darn adorable with his attempt to cover up that she couldn’t help but lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s a date,” she assured him, watching with much enjoyment as Aang, who was scarlet by this time with his jaw slack, touched the spot where her lips had been.

“What, gotta catch your breath, airbender?” she asked teasingly.

“I—I—um,” he stammered.

Katara shoved his arm lightly. “Get going, Avatar, the world needs you. But I’ll be expecting the hawk.”

“Airbender’s honor,” he said, giving her one last dopey smile before he turned on his heel and walked away. He seemed to navigate the crowd with a new spring in his step, just barely touching the ground. Clearly, walking on air was a literal thing for him, she thought with a chuckle.

“OKAY, I SAW THAT!” a voice interrupted her thoughts with a screech. She turned to see none other than Sokka aggressively making his way to her. “OOGIES CENTRAL, little sister. OO—”

“Sokka, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You talk like I didn’t see you flirting with that Earth Kingdom girl the whole night.”

“That’s different! I’ve met Suki more than once.” She raised an eyebrow at him, but he went on. “I can’t believe it. You … and the Avatar …” he whispered tensely. “Oh man, wait ‘til Dad hears about this. You attend ONE party and you suddenly have a boy wrapped around your finger!”

“Well, didn’t you and Dad say I should meet more guys?” she said coolly. “And now the tribe can stop complaining about me not snagging myself some North Pole husband.”

“We didn’t mean the AVATAR!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Why not?” She glared at him. “I’m sure everyone would love to meet him.”

Sokka scrunched his eyebrows. “Meet him?”

“Aang said he’d come over to visit the South Pole as soon as he can,” she said a-matter-of-factly. “We’re going penguin sledding.”

“He WHAT?” Sokka sputtered. “The Avatar? Is coming to the South Pole? And you’re going penguin sledding???”

“Yup. He asked me, and I said yes,” she said with a grin, already giddily imagining sledding down the South Pole’s slopes with him. She felt a rush run through her, making her feel light-headed with glee. In that moment, realized she might actually have half a mind to go over to the Fire Nation herself should the New Ozai Society start delaying their plans.

“Ohhh no. I know that look.” Sokka groaned. “Spirits, you’re … you’re helpless.”

Katara kept smiling. Maybe she was.

But so was he.

--

A/N: Btw, the bianqing is a Chinese stone chimes instrument.

The whole point of a Helpless-inspired AU was a love at first sight AU basically, which was an interesting angle for me to write since Kataang is canonically a slow burn friends to lovers couple. Also: first move x pining Katara? Natural charmer x awkward bean Aang? I needed that in my life so I wrote it lol.

I also had so much fun peppering this with so many references (from both the actual Avatar shows and Hamilton!) If you wanna point out as much as you can I would love you for it.

[homeformyheart]

Oh gosh the "A whisper in the ear" for Mason and Brooks pleeaase? 💕💕

thank you soso! this came together so fast 🥰 I really do love their dynamic. there are a couple small callbacks to things that happened in my others fics with these two: menage and dinner date.

author’s note: these prompts are so cute and thank you for requesting! this might be my favorite mason that I’ve written thus far. hope you all enjoy! copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – mason x nb!detective (brooklyn kingston) rating/warnings: 16+; swearing based on/prompt: The way you said “I love you.” // 14. A whisper in the ear word count: 1.2k summary: mason willingly accompanies brooklyn to a sci-fi convention.

where to?

a sci-fi convention was the last fucking place mason wanted to be. bright lights, noisy gadgets, weird music, and the smell of humans and supernaturals crowding every one of his senses. it was far too easy to forget that they were walking around in one of the largest spaces available in the city. with only three exits. and no windows.

exactly the opposite of the kind of environment mason enjoyed.

he shuffled closer to brooklyn, her proximity dulling the raging headache pounding in his skull by more than a fraction. even surrounded by sensory overload, his fingers didn’t twitch for a cigarette. brooklyn’s scent and occasional touch was enough. he had stopped wondering why a long time ago – who was he to complain about something that provided him relief?

he glanced sideways at brooklyn, who was currently smiling ear-to-ear and practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this excited. he noticed the bizarre, disorienting lights from the neighboring booths dancing around in her eyes, a soft blush on her cheeks, a thin sheen of sweat mottling wisps of hair against her forehead underneath a ridiculous baseball hat.

the hat in question said “police ‘public call’ box” but brooks had told him it didn’t have anything to do with her job but was referencing a show about… time travel, was it?

he couldn’t remember the specifics, but he did know that he’d never seen brooks wear a baseball cap in the two years that he’s known her. although, he supposes he never thought he’d be walking around a crowded space like this of his own volition. maybe he should’ve let nat come to this thing with brooklyn.

a few weeks earlier

brooklyn sped into the living room at a pace very unlike her usual poised, professional demeanor. “nat, the sci-fi convention i told you about will take place in the city! i was able to get two passes, would you like to come?”

before nat could respond, mason had slinked over to the two of them. “why wouldn’t you ask me to go, sweetheart?”

felix slowly glanced back and forth between them. “are you… volunteering to go to a very crowded and noisy event?”

mason ignored felix’s bait as brooklyn turned to him, stunned. they had gotten a lot closer over the past two years – at least, she’d like to think so judging by the amount of time they spent together without mason making sexual advances – but she would never have predicted he’d willingly subject himself to sensory overload.

“there’s going to be thousands of people there. it’ll be loud and i didn’t think it’d be your scene,” she said softly.

the knowing and understanding look on her face made his chest itch and he scratched at it absentmindedly. “what do i keep telling you?”

her smile brightened in a way that lit up the rest of her face and made that itch from before start to sting. “right. you go where i go.”

“you will be on-duty to protect the detective, mason. this is not a vacation. remember that,” ava warned.

mason had just given ava a look – not even bothering to retort with one of his remarks about how he can protect the detective and have fun with them too. he hadn’t had the urge to make those types of comments regarding brooklyn in a very long time.

his brow furrowed in thought, but whatever it was flit away quickly as the line seemed to move and brooklyn stepped eagerly forward, creating a small gap between them. he glared at the unacceptable amount of space between them. he stepped up next to her and slid an arm around her back, resting his hand on her hip and gently stroking the fabric of her shirt with his thumb.

“what can i do for you, little lady?” the person behind the booth – a forgettable face, in mason’s opinion – asked.

the frowns on both their faces appeared simultaneously.

“i may be ‘little,’ but i’m not a lady,” brooklyn said bluntly. mason noticed she was holding a small booklet in her hands with illustrations of superheroes or supernaturals or something like that on the cover.

“sure, whatever you say,” the man said quickly, but the flick of their eyes upward in a half-roll indicated otherwise. mason heard him mutter “fucking millennials” before plastering on a fake smile and turning back to brooklyn.

“what would you like? an autograph? a picture?”

“um,” brooklyn hesitated before answering, her voice unusually meek. her arms had already begun the motion of handing him her comic before she pulled them back. “a picture? if that’s okay.”

she moved to the other side of the booth after handing her phone to mason to stand next to the asshole, who very quickly wrapped his arm around brooklyn’s shoulder and pulled her in. mason raised the phone and took a few pictures quickly, but knew the smile on brooklyn’s face was forced and the excitement from before was nowhere to be seen.

she thanked the man and quickly walked over to where mason was standing off to the side, tucking her phone immediately away when he handed it to her.

“you okay?” he asked quietly.

“they do say that you should never meet your idols,” she chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “i’m sorry, i know this is all too much for you. we should just go.”

“come with me,” he said brusquely, grabbing her hand and heading back to where the asshole was currently taking pictures with a group of fans.

he reached for the comic in her hands and slammed it on the table loud enough that the man flinched in surprise.

“hey asshole. when someone asks you not to call them something, they’re asking for the bare minimum as a person and you will fucking respect that, got it?”

the man’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously before nodding.

“good, you owe her an autograph.” mason pushed the comic toward him and glared as the man quickly signed it.

he didn’t see the awed look on brooklyn’s face as he handed her the signed comic and ushered her away from the booth. she took his hand and led him to the next aisle over, where the booths at the end seemed to have the least number of people.

it was still way too many for his taste, but he kept that to himself. holding her hand helped.

she looked up at him searchingly, eyes hopeful as she raised a hand to his cheek. he raised an eyebrow at her quizzically, whether it was at her behavior or at how his heartbeat seemed to suddenly quicken, he wasn’t sure.

she leaned in and mason stayed perfectly still. it didn’t seem like she was going in for a kiss – and he wasn’t going to presume – she was on her tiptoes and moving toward his ear. the softest whisper breezed past his ear, goosebumps gently rippling down his arms at the bit of sunshine she breathed out before settling back down on her feet.

he heard her. he always did.

she didn’t need him to say anything back because he was going to need time and space to figure things out. but she was still smiling at him like he was the fucking moon on a dark night guiding her way home.

he felt himself return her smile – the muscle movement clunky and unfamiliar – and hers grew even bigger.

“where to next, sweetheart?”

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @fhauvilles; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @pearlsandsteel; one-off: @honourlight; @tpcignits

[moondustaeil]

ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴇᴄʀᴜ ⊰❀ ᴋ.ᴊᴡ

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. colourized ecru

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅  genre : soulmates!au - fluff, angst, suggestive content

⋅  pairing : Jungwoo x reader

⋅  word count : 25.8k

⋅  warning: it gets a little bit suggestive at the end, but no actual smut

⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅   “Pick a colour” said lady Cyan who was strangely familiar. Your fingertip had endlessly trailed over the palette, but you picked ecru. Every day that goes by: you sit under the Daimyo oak that protected five little daisies, little did you know one of the five daisies is willing to give you a “loves me” or “loves me not” with Jungwoo, the boy from the enchanted soulmate library...

⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ colours

⋅  this is a collab created by @neo-cult-ure​ , where me and other writers went for a soulmate concept but each went our own ways with a specific plot. I would like to take the time to thank everyone in this collab: for the friendship and for the process that we underwent together ! Please check out their fics as well. [Author’s note is at the bottom]

「ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ : # ꜰꜰꜰꜰꜰꜰ」

Sat with your back against a tree, it nearly appears that you're one of the stereotypical nature-lovers on earth. It would have looked like a regular thing to do, if only you held a cliché poetry book, or if you weren't sitting there whilst clouds were turning into a very dark shade of blue. The if-only scenarios were only fiction as in reality you were sitting against a tree in the middle of a weather transition, your hands empty and your eyes shut.

"pick a colour," a faint but comforting voice tells you, you nearly feel comfortable due to the sugary sweet undertone in the voice if it weren't for the pair of eyes you were greeted with. The cyan-coloured eyes look straight into yours even if yours were shut in reality.

Upon hearing the request, your eyes open themselves to do as you are asked. A soft layer of dust seems to coat your eyelashes which causes your eyes to flutter open a couple of times before you're greeted with the world. Your expectations don't meet up with what's actually in front of you, the last thing you had in mind was an empty landscape on each angle that your eyes explored. No one with a cyan-coloured pair of eyes staring into yours, in fact, no one is around you at all. There is no colour palette from which you can pick a colour, the only colour palette is that of the scenery. Just a stereotypical scene surrounds you: green grass, white daisies, and a very dark rain-filled sky.

It's going to rain, and it's a shame that you have to find out the second it's too late. Little droplets rapidly leak from the dark clouds, not enough to get you soaked, but enough to make you realise it was time to leave. You get up from under the tree, setting off in a fast walking pace as you leave the park. You don't run as you don't want to look like the fool who sat in the park whilst knowing it would rain, that embarrassing feeling is not something you want to give yourself. Whatever you were doing under a tree on a rainy Sunday evening is forgotten momentarily.

The world seems strangely different but one thing that stayed the same was the way to your apartment, and you're lucky it's only a ten-minute walk, nine if you continue to keep up the slightly faster walking pace. Though thanks to the weather, the walk seems a bit longer, but still only exactly nine minutes pass when you sprint up to the stairs towards the second floor.

You close the front door behind yourself once you're inside the apartment. The first thing you do is kick off the wet pair of Vans on your feet, you leave them in the middle of the hallway before stepping over them to get into your living room. You stare at the decorated living room, staying silent as there is no roommate you have to greet, which luckily allows you to glue yourself onto the sofa for the rest of the night. Dinner could have been made but you're not in the mood to make a mish-mash out of leftover ingredients.

For everything in life, there's a useful app, just like there's a useful app that you use to order your dinner with. Unfortunately, there's no such thing that gives you an explanation for your own weird actions like sitting underneath a tree for god knows how long. You pay for your dinner before throwing your phone aside, leaving social media to drown in its toxic nature.

You stand up from the sofa and head to the bathroom. You wash up by taking a quick shower, brush your teeth, do your overly extensive skincare routine even though you don't feel like it, and lastly change into your most comfortable nightwear. Right when you leave the bathroom and are about to settle yourself down on the sofa, the intercom stops you and tells you the food arrived. Luckily for you, you already paid and the delivery man is nice enough to drop off your food right in front of your door instead of two floors down.

"thank you!" you say extra loud so that the delivery man manages to hear you even when he's already on his way downstairs. You lift up the bag with food and instantly take it inside before any of your friendly neighbours come outside to have a healing talk. Once you close the door again, you decide that it's the moment to lock yourself in for the rest of the evening. A house party by yourself seems the perfect way to name what you're about to do: watch abandoned Netflix series while you occupy your sofa as a dining area.

You slowly start eating whilst Netflix provides you with entertainment. Yet, the series isn't interesting enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts, that or your thoughts are very determined to keep the subject alive. The view of two characters getting in a petty fight over money is replaced by the same view as earlier: the pair of cyan-coloured eyes that were staring into yours, followed by the sight of the tree you had been sitting under not long ago. There was something about the scene that seemed too important to forget as it constantly returned to your mind.

But why was it that you couldn't forget about it? Your eyes close as you give in to the thoughts before they consume your entire brain. It seems like a bunch of little white clouds start to form in your mind, each of them is filled with a tiny piece of information about the unforgettable encounter. Despite your confusion, you’re willing to make those little clouds pop in order to receive some new information. Firstly told was that you weren’t allowed to forget the tree or lose focus of it, another cloud tells you to remember the tree because it might not be there forever. The little clouds fill the blank spaces in your mind, but it’s not enough.

You indeed never saw the tree before, it is something you can conclude after you went on a train of memories. Before today, you had been in the park numerous times to situate objects and pieces of nature, it was a little bit too familiar to say that you had no idea whether you saw the tree before or not. A piece of your heart interrupts your thoughts, without words making your interest in the tree bigger with each second you thought about it. Perhaps you would listen to yourself and keep an eye out for the tree, just to check if you weren’t betraying yourself.

After sighing, you shake your head to yourself. “You’re going crazy,” you tell yourself in a whisper, taking the glass of water from the side and sip from it to wash away the stream of useless thoughts. Fortunately for the future, it’s a mission you would fail in. Unfortunately for you, the thoughts wouldn’t get washed away for quite a while.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

7:05 am

You wake up with a jerk, immediately catching your breath as you came back from running a marathon. The faint voice in your mind disappears, leaving you alone in your dark bedroom. The distant sound of rain drumming against your window makes your eyes open, searching for the little patch of light in the darkness until your eyes are fixated on the window.

It must be raining outside and you must be in your room. Unlike a minute ago when you found yourself in the park once more, sat underneath the same tree as yesterday with the cyan-coloured eyes staring at you from a distance. Your tensed body falls back onto the bed in relief, you're happy to be in bed even though the urge to go to that specific spot is eating you from the inside. Slowly but surely you turn your body towards the window, eyes focused on the patch of light that shines through. The sky seems grey like it's grieving for the start of a new week, but you're just grateful that you're not completely consumed by the darkness in your room.

When you think about something so much, people would say that you're in love, but clearly, you can't be in love with a tree, can you? If it was up to you to explain your feelings towards the tree: it would be a mix of hatred due to the constant thoughts about it, but also fascination because of the unknown meaning behind it. It's no secret that by now, you actually start to believe you're either way delusional, or that faith is on your side but you're not sure why.

"Fuck it" you quietly tell yourself as you get your sore body out of bed, starting the day rather impulsively as you would have preferred to stay in bed for a little while longer. Your nightwear is ditched on the sheets as you almost shoot yourself into yesterday's outfit. There's a sauce stain from last night's dinner in the middle of your shirt, but the dried-up spot is something your eyes miss or don't even care about at this moment. It's too late to question what you're doing before you realise it, you've already left the bedroom.

Similar to other and more rushed mornings, breakfast is something you forget about, though now it seems like abandoning it willingly rather than just forgetting about it. You walk past the kitchen and directly into the hallway, exchanging your bare feet for the wet shoes you left in the middle of the path yesterday evening. It seems like you're rewinding yesterday's events even though this time, you sprint down the stairs instead of up.

The moment you walk out of the apartment complex, you can feel the little droplets of rain layering onto your hair, it's like taking a shower first thing in the early morning. The feeling is annoying and it could lead to you getting sick, but you don't think of the consequences, neither are you caring about them right now. The sprint turns into a fast walking pace as you're greeted by a still calm street. Luckily at this hour, there aren't many people around, and if they are then they're in a rush to get to work.

Your feet speed up lightly as the urge to get to the park grows only bigger knowing you're only ten minutes away from the place. You walk further towards the park even though it's hard to keep yourself from going past the walking pace, luckily you're just very determined to keep your bit of dignity. Ten minutes isn't that much in reality, even if it takes up one of the six parts in an hour and one of the three parts in half an hour.

When the park comes into view, you opt to ignore the presence of a few early birds that jog towards the park, just like them you start jogging. The remaining minute turns into a matter of seconds as you run through the unofficial entrance and straight towards the tree that you feel captivated by. You don't care that you're running over the grass rather than the ground, it's not like the bit of dew could make you slip.

Your feet come to an abrupt halt once you're close enough to the tree, only taking smaller steps towards the piece of nature until it seems like the tree could engulf you in its branches. You greet the tree with a smile, unaware of your own little gesture. With the bit of distance between you and the tree, you reach out your hand to touch the trunk. "What makes you so special?" you ask quietly, it's more like a rhetorical question as you feel like you have to find out the answer for yourself.

Your hand pulls itself away with a slight sigh, the calmness spreading through your body after a second of contact between you and the tree. You turn your body and get into the same position as yesterday, your back pressed against the trunk while you look at the scenery. The spot that you claimed allows you to stay out of the rain, the branches and twigs catching a couple of droplets before they can get to you. It takes a minute for you to settle down in that spot, but once you do, it's like you're sitting in the perfect spot.

The view you have from this spot is amazing, especially seeing people rushing in their lives while you're sat under a tree that gives a protective vibe. But you're aware that you must be sitting here with a goal, and you have no idea what that goal could be. You cock your head to the side, allowing your eyes to check the little flowers that you find yourself in between like you ruined their little get-together.

Five little daisies proudly standing amongst other big trees and plain green grass, their two simple colours stand out compared to the other naturistic elements around you. It were the kind of flowers you would make a flower crown with when you were still a child and the flowers you could use to determine whether your crush really loved you. Not that you did that many times as you were too realistic, or at least that's what you thought about your years as a child.

A tingling feeling spreads itself starting from your wrist and all the way towards the ends of your fingertips. You break eye-contact with the white-yellow coloured flowers and use your eyes to inspect the palm of your hand. But, you don’t see anything more than just a simple hand quivering to the unexpected intensity of the tingles. Your fingers clench themselves until they’re hidden in your fist, pressuring the tingles to go numb. 

The set of strange events make you close your eyes to ponder, trying to ignore the reality to just silently wonder about them without having to go through the experience once more. Yet, the moment you close your eyes you seem lost in one of those events, one that you’re encountering for the second time. The Cyan-coloured eyes stare into yours eyes, a determined and yet comforting look that make you feel responsible over something you’re not aware of. “Ecru? That’s a fantastic choice, darling. Your world is now colourized ecru” the voice says in a soft tone. The voice seemingly fits the fawn colour that you can imagine when saying ecru. Your mouth opens to speak, but before you can push one word out, the pair of eyes are gone. 

Once again, you're left in the park with your eyes closed and your hands empty just like they were yesterday. Only this time, the world had changed, or perhaps it had before but you were too dumb to realise.

The world is now colourized ecru

「 ꜱɴᴏᴡ : # ꜰꜰꜰᴀꜰᴀ 」

"Your world is colourized what?" Sicheng asks you, making it clear you had to clarify the story for the third time today. His eyes glance over at you like it would make him understand the words a little bit better. You would have sighed if it wasn’t for the fact that you would do the exact same thing if he told you a similar story. You wouldn’t have understood either, perhaps you wouldn’t even bother believing it.

Getting the words on the tip of your tongue again, only takes up a few seconds, you could repeat them whenever you wanted and your head provided you with the same voice as the person that told you.”Your world is now colourized ecru” you repeat again, this time saying the words slower since the language gap could make it harder for him to understand what ecru meant, even though it isn’t language-related as you had to google the colour too. “The voice told me that” you add, explaining more than needed just so that Sicheng could understand and believe your story.

“Colourized ecru, isn’t that like the beige colour?” Sicheng asks as his feet take slower steps just like his mind is processing the entire situation in a slow pace. To you, it is almost too slow, as being headed to the park became something you are weirdly enthusiastic for, or rather than that, you simply long to find yourself sitting underneath that tree. “I thought so too, but apparently it’s not. I saw a pinkish shade in it but Wikipedia said it was greyish-yellow. So I don’t know anymore” you answer his question, leaving your best friend even more confused now that he doesn’t know which colour your world really became.

The rest of the walk to the park is as blank as it was before, with Sicheng asking questions and you giving vague answers because Google wasn’t always as smart as you thought. Eventually, you realise that you would have to find a way to answer your own questions instead of letting Google do it for you. And aside from mental support, you’re sure that Sicheng can’t help you with answers either. 

“This is the tree,” you say as you walk underneath it with Sicheng, allowing him to sit first between the five daisies that he hadn’t even noticed yet. You sit down on the free space next to him, stopping the urge that your eyes get as you don’t want to close them while your best friend is around. “Do you know what kind of tree this is?” Sicheng asks you, his head raising to look at the branches, twigs and the leaves hanging from it. He fails to see the way you shook your head but already expected a no from you, or well, he had never seen your interest laying in the origins of a park tree.

Through his lensless glasses, Sicheng looks at you again. “Perhaps you should visit the library, they must have some books about trees,” he suggests, his head turning unexpectedly when his hand touches one of the five daisies hiding in the grass. Before you’re able to catch up with what happened, he quickly places his hand next to them instead of on top of them. “And flowers” he adds quickly, giving you an innocent smile.

"Did you ever play the loves me, loves me not game with daisies?" Sicheng asks as he motions to the little miracles of nature with his free hand, your eyes immediately go towards the flowers, something you almost instinctively do as you would stare at them each time you came here. “I didn’t, I wouldn’t know who would love me” you answer with a small shrug, still convinced that you never played those silly games during your childhood. The loves me, loves me not game was made up out of lies, a flower would never be able to tell you who you belonged with. “Your soulmate loves you.”

“My soulmate?” you ask as you hear the word soulmate go past Sicheng’s lips. The word isn’t unfamiliar, perhaps it’s a bit too familiar as there is a lot of doubt to the existence of soulmates in the world. Some claim soulmates are just for people who meet each other and symbolically label themselves like that, others say soulmates could meet each other in special circumstances, and there was a group of people that completely deny the existence of the phenomenon. You have no idea which group you belong to, neither do you know what Sicheng thinks about it. Never have you pondered about the possibility of meeting your other half. 

Sicheng hums in response to you, a tiny smile coating his lips as he reaches out to one of the flowers and disconnects it from its long stem. “You just go like this” Sicheng says as he ignores your soft protests against what he was doing, something felt wrong when he plucked the flower from its safe spot. “Loves me, loves me not” he says as he starts to demonstrate, leaving you to watch how he throws away something precious. It makes you feel emotional, with petal after petal falling to the grass after getting plucked from the yellow-coloured disk. Each of those petals seem to represent how close you are to having tears in your eyes. You felt sick with apprehension.

“Loves you not,” Sicheng says whilst the last petal sadly falls onto the green grass, laying scattered next to the other petals that he had plucked away. Just like you predicted seconds ago, tears are burning in the corners of your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks, but you refuse, you don’t want to be the person to cry over a flower. “That means you’re not my soulmate and I’m not yours,” Sicheng simply says, whatever was left of the flower falling from his fingertips and ending between the few white petals. 

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The feeling of melancholy continues to follow you everywhere after what had happened. It started as a small pit in your stomach the moment Sicheng first separated the flower from its natural habitat, but as the hours go by the pit only grows bigger and leaves you unable to feel a different emotion.

After Sicheng left you with an apology for possibly fucking up something you desperately needed in your life, you had found yourself grieving over the flower for two complete hours. Those hours go by with tenderly holding the remains between your aching fingertips, and telling yourself you had four flowers left that no one would pluck away from you. Yet, when you left the park, there was the fear that a stranger or child would pluck them for fun. You had been hesitant about leaving, but you couldn't stay with the flowers day and night.

That’s how you end up marching to the local library, following up the at least useful piece of advice Sicheng gave you. You were no longer angry at him, perhaps you even blamed yourself for not making it clear enough how important the flowers were to you, how they seemed to connect to you and the ecru world you found yourself in. Grateful for the suggestion he made earlier: from the suggestion about going to the library, to the suggestion of a so-called phenomenon called soulmates.

You had no idea what time it was when you found yourself in front of the library, neither did the sky really tell you much because you weren't looking up at it. Your eyes were too busy to make sure you didn't bump into any people or objects whilst your thoughts were working overtime. Your steps were quick as the stairs only counted a few of them before you were right in front of the wooden door. Something else you didn't notice were the opening hours hanging on the left, you would have been able to see it was a quarter past closing time when you arrived. Your fingers wrapped around the door handle, trying to pull it down in order to get the door open but the handle merely moved an inch before getting stuck in its position. "Shit"

The spark of hope you had was taken over by the large part of melancholy once again, you didn't even need the opening schedule to know that you probably were standing here because it was closed already. This was one of the reasons you had to make sure before getting hopeful for things, especially now that you were obligated to wait the entire night before you were able to possibly let your thoughts rest. You couldn't help but pull the handle down once more, or attempt to as this time too it had no intention of letting you in.

In the end, there was no other option but to go home for the night and be tortured by your strayed thoughts. The walk home being extra long due to your unnecessary stop at the park to check if the tree and flowers were still there, waiting for your return tomorrow. But perhaps that's not the only thing waiting for you, perhaps a soulmate is waiting somewhere as well. Waiting for you.

「 ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴅᴇᴡ : # ꜰ0ꜰꜰꜰ0 」 

For the third day in a row, you're already waiting in front of the library ten minutes before the building opens its doors. For the third day in a row, you manage to find a spark of hope somewhere inside of your body that tells you that today is the day that you will find something. But finding the right books is harder than expected: somehow writers don't really dive deeper into the wondrous world of soulmates and books about trees take ages to thumb through just to get to the right illustration of the tree. It's hard to find what you're looking for, especially as you have no idea what you're actually looking for.

But today you're determined to find anything the book is willing you tell you. You hope having a picture of the tree would make it easier to receive information, even if you have no idea if any of the people around are skilled in giving you the answer to which kind of tree it was: the books are supposed to give you the answers but how are you going to recognise your tree between many others? Something else that could help you were the daisies, you know the name but never imagined there to be a meaning behind them until you thought back about Sicheng sadly removing one from the world.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when the door is unlocked and soon opened for the public, even though right now no one but you stood in the invisible queue. The feeling of victory is quick to spread through your body the moment you step inside, the high shelves don’t make you feel small, if anything, they give you more motivation.

“Good morning,” A voice speaks up without you realising it, you unfortunately ignore it because you’re too focused on finding the books you need for your progress. If you had heard it, you would have been able to tell how oddly familiar the voice was, and you could have linked it to the weird experience you had in the park. It was a missed chance, but more chances would come in the near future.

Your footsteps take you up the stairs where you had been going to for three days now, it became a part of your routine. Nature-related books were usually found upstairs as not many people were interested in the miracles of life these days. You admit that before, you were one of the people that took nature by granted, something that changed drastically in a short period of time. 

You sit at the empty desk near the corner, a popular space you know from experience, but as no one is there, it’s yours for the rest of the day. You’re quick to turn on the computer in order to check out the catalogue, a catalogue of which the books don’t change but each day you scroll past the same ones in hopes that a new one gets added. Your fingers hesitate over the keyboard, hitting a letter befoe deleting it again as you remember searching for the word yesterday. “Can I help you?”

You look away from the computer screen when you hear the voice, a fake, friendly smile appearing on your lips as you get ready to give a fabricated response. “Not really I don’t know what I’m looking for but I don’t think you can help me,” you tell the person in front of you, giving her only a brief glance which makes you seem uninterested. “Perhaps I can help you, you can tell me what you’re looking for and I will help you with finding the right books” she offers you. Out of annoyance, you hand the person the little, coloured post-it note with the keywords on.

“Tree, daisies, and soulmates” The voice reads the keywords on your paper out loud, her words flow out like she’s familiar with them. Your handwriting must be near enough to read it without trouble. “Yes,” you mumble in response, already knowing the words by head so there was no need for anyone else to say the words like the woman just did. Okay, perhaps it had been a rude thought of you and it was uncalled for, but you’re convinced that no one is able to help you and you weren’t willing to waste time on someone who wanted to try. “What kind of tree are you looking for?” she asks you but before you can answer, she interrupts you again “do you have a picture or a name?”

You hastily fish your phone out of the pocket of your pants, after unlocking it going straight to the gallery to find the set of pictures that you made yesterday. All of the pictures look overly similar, but having multiple pictures gives you more proof. “Ah, I think I know what tree it is” she says when she gets a glance of your phone, or rather, the picture of the tree. “This is the Quercus dentata, or daimyo oak if I’m correct. I can find some books about this tree for you?” she inquires after blowing you over with the difficult name and her cleverness to recognise the tree immediately. She hands you the note back even though you immediately discard it beside the computer keyboard.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what I need” you admit to her, slowly turning in your chair to properly tell what was going on. The last thing you want is spilling the story to anyone gullible and willing to listen, but there is a sense of trust between the two of you. Indeed, you don’t know what you need and one of the reasons that you’re here is to find out what you need and why you need it. “You don’t know what you need?” She asks you, but still smiles as she says the words, she seems like she knows more and she’s about to share it with you. You shake your head, an almost desperate gesture as you want help even from a librarian who perhaps had no idea how to help you. “Seeing the keywords on your note, I would say you’re here lurking for information about something specific that overcame you. And you must be looking for an explanation because the tree, the flowers, and the soulmate part all seem to blend together?”

Having someone next to you, saying the words from a perspective that was unfamiliar to you, it was like one of your millions of questions just got an answer. The answer was so easy, perhaps because the question was a simple one too. “Is that true?” she decided to ask because the look in your eyes revealed how surprised you were by the words. You slowly look up at her face, promptly staring into the pair of bright-coloured eyes. The unnatural cyan-colour rings a bell in your mind, and it only takes a second to remember the times you had seen the eyes before. “Y-yes, I think so” you respond in a softer tone, barely getting any words out of your mouth because of the shock that numbs your ability to speak or think. 

The elderly woman can only nod at your words, something you don’t see as you are too busy staring at everything but her face. Right now, you’re looking at the name tag pinned to her shirt. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see her name, but yet, “Cyan” is typed down in a Verdana-lookalike on the tag. The numb feeling completely takes away your ability to speak, or you’re just speechless at this point. A couple of days ago there was nothing, then the tree came in your life, and now you feel as if you’re close to figuring out the ecru world you live in. Yet, you don’t have half of it figured out, barely a quarter. 

"So, can you help me?” You ask out loud, your posture straightening more unknowingly. You expect a no but still hope for a yes, and you can’t tell beforehand which one of the two it’s going to be. Cyan -if that’s what her name really is- seems to hesitate, her eyes simply staring at you with an emotion that you can’t name. “I’m not sure, I already helped you to realise what you’re looking for” your shoulders immediately slump back against the wooden chair, a sigh slipping from your lips as you try to admit this was exactly what you expected even when it wasn’t.

You nod sadly as your eyes leave her to focus on the computer screen again, this time you know what to type in the search bar but you feel too unmotivated to make it through on your own. “Thank you anyway” you say soft as you give her one last glance, your eyes almost begging for her to stay so that she would give you more information. You’re convinced that this Cyan, is the same Cyan that brought you in this strange ecru-coloured world. It’s something you can’t accuse her of, but deep inside you know that you’re right about them being the same person: some people that you come across in your dreams, are real people, just like Cyan.

"You're welcome, don't let it get plucked away from you, you will find out"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Exactly fifty-nine minutes before closing time, you still find yourself in the same spot in front of the computer, though this time, the screen is pure black and your eyes are scanning every few words in the book laying on the dark table. 

The work that you’re doing now isn’t ever going to meet up with any work you used to do for school, this took a lot more energy but at the same time, you feel more useful and smarter than the times you would make a paper about concentration because it was easy to copy from others. When the teacher back then said that making the paper had seemed to help you a lot with your skills, you were sure that you were good at faking such things. But if there was a teacher to evaluate you now, you wouldn’t even have to fake anything.

Thanks to Cyan you got onto the right path, or at least you are trying to convince yourself that you are walking on the right path. The pieces of evidence next to you give you a good feeling, it seems like literature is more important than you used to believe, especially the pages where little post-its are pasted between to look back on. However, you don’t seem to realise there is no more time to look back on any of those things, you had been so caught up in the available literature that you forgot about the standard needs of a human or the opening hours of the library.

You flip the page of the book as quick as you can once you read the last few words of the sentence, another soft sigh leaves your lips as you realise this book about daisies isn’t going to get you far. Perhaps there was a limit to the amount of information people could receive in a day, but at this point, you’re convinced that you’re way past that limit. Your eyes meet with a new chapter, the boldly-typed title staring at you but you’re too busy translating the words from their original language into English, even if the English words are written a dozen times over the upcoming paragraphs. 

effeuiller la marguerite

Quietly and almost inaudible, you translate the words for yourself. When you say them in French, it doesn’t ring a bell despite the little knowledge you have of the language. When you repeat the same words in English, you instantly think back about the day you and Sicheng spent in the park. The way he used one of the precious daisies to demonstrate how you were supposed to play the simple, but childish game of “loves me, loves me not.” You could still taste some bitterness of the moment on the tip of your tongue, a consequence of Sicheng unintentionally ruining the flower. 

The first paragraph provides you with a definition of the game, something perhaps not useful even though school always taught you the definition before anything deeper. Even if the context was the more important part, you still needed some framework to understand.

“She loves me, she loves me not or he loves me, he loves me not is a game of French origin, in which one person seeks to determine whether the object of affection returns that affection.” The words are literal, perhaps a bit formal but not in a university-level. It gives you the hint that you are the person looking for an object of affection in this ecru world. It is you, you that has to search for the other person, for a he, she or them that would possibly love you, or not.

“How does it work really?” you ask yourself silently as you read past some French paragraph that you don’t feel attracted by, it seems like the next paragraph nicely explains how you’re supposed to play. It’s quite silly to think of it, you exactly know how to play the game, but don’t believe yourself and go for an unscientific instruction in a book about daisies. “A person playing the game alternately speaks the phrases "He loves me," and "He loves me not," while picking one petal off an ox-eye daisy for each phrase. The phrase they speak on picking off the last petal supposedly represents the truth between the object of their affection loving them or not. The player typically is motivated by attraction to the person they are speaking of while reciting the phrases. They may seek to reaffirm a pre-existing belief, or act out of whimsy" you read in a whisper-tone, sometimes stumbling over your own words because of the stiff and formal use of words. However, the moment you look back at the words, they don’t seem as formal and stuff anymore, they make sense in some way.

The chapter is no longer than two pages long, yet those two pages had managed to provide you with a lot more information than other chapters did. Added to your story were now the flowers that fit right in the framework Cyan made for you, it’s like being one step closer to knowing what you’re supposed to do. A sad hunch overcomes you as you finish the chapter: there are only four daisies left, four daisies that you can’t recklessly use to play the game. You need to find the matching object of affection.

Your hand pulls back the thick side of the book against the other to close it, resting it on top of the other books that you had been browsing through today. For a second, you allow your eyes to close as they’re exhausted from the endless focus, yet it didn’t mean you were going to give up. On a different pile were two books left: one of them is filled with more information about trees, the other is a magazine that has an article about soulmates. Unfortunately, that article is the only copy that has the words “soulmates” in them, meaning that no other existing source was available to you.

“Sorry to bother you, but it’s closing time. And I think you really need some rest, love” Cyan who had helped you so dearly before was now about to ruin part of the progress you made, or she was trying to help you by giving you an opportunity to go home and rest. Though, you opt it’s the first option as you feel too far into it to stop. Perhaps Cyan wasn’t aware yet, but she would find out soon that you came here on a daily basis ever since three days ago. “Can’t I stay for a little while longer, just until you closed up. I need to read some more” you say in a soft tone as you motion towards the two sources that still have to get scanned by your inexperienced eyes and mind.

Cyan takes the magazine from the pile, reading the word “soulmates” on the cover and immediately she knows which magazine it is. It’s one that most beginners want to read, but at the same time, it’s the most useless piece of literature in the entire library. Yet, it seems like you’re willing to read the public source as they don’t have any others. “You can come back tomorrow, can’t you?” she asks simply, dropping the magazine back onto the pile before looking at you to scan your facial expression. The emotion displayed on your face is mostly desperation: it makes Cyan want to give in, but the tiredness in your eyes is what holds Cyan back from telling you to stay until she closed up. It wasn’t like the article was helpful and you would regret staying longer just to read it. 

"Come with me"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Cyan paves the way to a place you had never witnessed in the few years of regularly visiting the library - not that you visit overly often, or at least not before the entire ecru-world circumstance - , but you are positive that this hall was one of the places you had never walked through.

Walking there takes long enough, long enough to forget that you left most of your stuff on the desk in the corner. A vague idea tells you that you’re going underground: mostly because you had been taking many steps down rather than up, and also because of the musty smell that is sticking onto the walls surrounding you. Cellars always look old but you’re willing to have a debate over this cellar being older than a few centuries. 

You want to ask Cyan how long there was left and how many more steps in the staircase, you have no idea where you’re headed and the eerie feeling seems to double itself with each step further. You stop yourself from asking though: you don’t consider yourself as a six-year-old who continuously asks his parents when the car ride is finally over. You purse your lips as you hold the question even if that means you have to breathe through your nose.

“We’re here” Cyan announces after coming to a halt in front of a large iron door. The door is large enough to let a giant pass if it’s not for the obvious fact that it’s closed. Your own steps stop as well, aligning perfectly next to Cyan’s. From up close, the door is heavily decorated by different elegant shapes. Yet, there’s no keyhole that indicates the requirement of the longitudinal grooves. The door is a masterpiece, it seems like it belongs in a museum more than as an actual door underground. “Won’t you open it?” you ask Cyan quietly, only tearing your eyes from the door to see when Cyan would open the door. 

Cyan’s first response is to shake her head as a sign that she’s not going to open the door for you, in response to that, you let out a huff of annoyance and disappointment. How are you supposed to get in when the librarian doesn’t even want to open the goddamn door for you, it’s not like you know a secret way through. “You have to open it, darling,” Cyan says when she notices that you’re not amused, by far, you look irritated. 

“How am I supposed to do that?!” You ask loudly, drawing a long sigh from your mouth as it was another feature that you weren’t prepared for. You set another step closer to the door, not looking back at Cyan because you don’t care if she follows you or not. You’re not a magician like your friend Kun is, you’re clumsy and still didn’t figure out how to do the magic trick with the glasses that he always shows you. “Hocus pocus!” Leaves your lips before you can stop it from happening, whether it is for the laughs or for the deadly-serious expression on your lips, it doesn’t matter as the door doesn’t bother to react.

The string of magic spells leaves your lips, at once, calling out each one you know and unmagically cast them onto the iron door. Yet, none of them have the intention to pull the handle down and open the door for you. Cyan can’t be any more amused, but she is aware that you would still be here for hours if she leaves you to cast these spells. “Opening the door is like opening a new world for yourself,” Cyan tells you in a quiet voice, just loud enough to overpower your voice that casts the last spell you know. The hint is amateur level, even you find the answer within a minute. 

You swallow away the bundle of nerves that want to spread in your stomach. What you are about to say can, either way, be foolery or the start of something unidentified. Just like Cyan mentioned, opening the door is like opening a new world, and you are ready to be a part of it. 

"Ecru"

「 ᴀᴢᴜʀᴇ  : # ꜰ0ꜰꜰꜰꜰ 」

When you wake up from accidentally falling asleep with your head buried between a formal-worded book, you hear the large doors closing themselves slowly, and you guess you must have missed the moment they opened due to your tiredness. The non-rhythmic footsteps are unrecognisable but there must be only one person that has unlimited access to this place, Cyan. Your guess is confirmed when you hear her voice telling you: "you look tired.”

“I’ve been looking through these books for nearly three hours” you answer with a deep sigh leaving your lips, your fingertip tiredly points to the large pile of books of which you only managed to read one in those three long hours. But that one book is enough to make it seem like you read everything in this entire underground library. 

Cyan let out a quiet hum at your words, stepping closer to you with the same unstable sound of her footsteps on the floor. “That’s why I decided to get some coffee for you, you slept for over an hour,” she says in a sweet tone as the cup of coffee is delivered to the moon-shaped table you sit at. A small smile coats your lips thanks to Cyan’s sweet gesture, and you know your non-verbal message has been delivered when she smiles back at you. Every now and then she would deliver coffee to you, you didn’t even ask for it, she would disappear at random times and return with a cup of coffee for you. Your inner coffee addict was happy with that.

"Did you find out anything new?” Cyan asks as she has her eyes on you and one hand placed on the pile of books like she’s trying to suck the magic out of them. That thought is one you dismiss soon, you can expect a lot but that beats all of the other ridiculous thoughts you had. You reluctantly shake your head in response, hesitating because you had found many amazing things but you doubted if they were useful. “I guess so, but at the same time, I don’t think so. I don’t understand any of the words in the book” you admit, your eyes still reading over some of the words.

The book gets pulled from under your elbows by Cyan who takes it between her two hands as she begins to read at the point where you left off before falling asleep. “You’re reading the wrong book. I told you to follow your heart and choose a book based on that, not on an interesting title” she immediately scolds you for choosing what you did, she read less than a sentence but it’s enough for her to know that this book isn’t going to give you the answers you need.

"I don’t know how to, it’s harder than you think” you complain with a deep sigh, putting the cup of coffee down on the porcelain saucer before looking up at the elder librarian. “How am I supposed to know what my heart wants?” you ask, the question sounding both genuine but also mocking. You don’t believe in letting your heart decide which book to take, if it was true, you would be reading an easy and understandable book that wasn’t part of this underground library’s catalogue. 

Cyan closes the book and can’t help but sigh just like you did a second ago, she sounds disappointed even if she doesn’t use any words to confirm the feeling. It’s not an uncommon thing for people to choose the wrong book, everyone at least does so one time, especially when they judge by the cover. But after years of sneakily doing this, Cyan had a steady set of expectations from humanity, especially those looking for a soulmate. 

“y/n. Think about your soulmate, close your eyes and let your soulmate pick the book for you. Listen to your heart, it’s commissioned by your soulmate” Cyan says in an overly sweet and soft tone, dropping the thick book on top of the others as a sign all of them were useless in your story. You admire her for the way she says the words because you wish it’s as easy as it sounds, but, you hate the words because it’s not as easy as that. How is your soulmate going to recommend you a book if he doesn’t even know about your existence? 

Your phone vibrates steadily next to the pile of useless books, even though the moon-shaped table is in front of you, you huff because you are too lazy to lean forward and take the device in your hands. For an unknown reason, you flag your phone as an unnecessary accessory down here: there is no WiFi and you don’t expect anything from the phone reception. But clearly, your phones proves you wrong when it vibrates a second time. 

You lean forward and pick up the phone from the book-filled desk, finally giving it some screentime and giving yourself some ‘me-time’ as you would always name it. The lockscreen gives away the time, but you only have eyes for the notification of your best friend Sicheng. You feel bothered that he messages you, it wouldn’t be bothering if you weren’t in this almost-enchanting library.

Sicheng [ 2 : 35 pm ] : I found some more daisies around, plucked them and they're in front of your door

Sicheng [2 : 35 pm ] : sorry for wasting one the other day, I didn't know they would mean so much to you ):)

You can't help but smile soft, a certain feeling of warmth spreading through your tiniest veins and dropping once they reach your heart. It's obvious that Sicheng feels sorry for what he did to the daisy, and he must think that you’re not answering the door because of that.

It is a fact that you hadn’t been speaking to him since the day in the park, not because you were angry -as you weren’t -, but because you isolated yourself in the library after he advised you to. Sicheng was someone you couldn’t be angry at, he was soft but also because he had given you a little push onto an unknown path. You were still walking on the path he pushed you on, however, he isn’t walking on that same path and you feel bad about it. 

“Will you not write a message back to him, darling?” Cyan asks you as she notices the way you can only stare at the messages you received, and your fingers are resting on the edges of the screen rather than the keyboard that is waiting for you to send a message back. Your eyes stay on the screen, they never break eye-contact from the messages, not even when Cyan asks your attention by questioning you. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I think he thinks I’m angry because he took one of the daisies and showed me how to play the game” you explain to Cyan. She can see your facial expression growing bluer as you think about it. 

“But you’re not angry. So make him bloom again, his smile is precious to the world” Cyan says before you can continue telling the story with even more details, she is aware of the things that happen but still listens when you tell her the story about the little daisy. 

y/n [ 2 : 39 pm ] : just as much as you mean to me, you're a precious bean x

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Apparently, and without warning, you're not the only soulmate-searching human in the world. The first time you realise it's simply because Cyan decides to tell you one minute before a girl that's also looking for her soulmate walks in, the time after you notice it's before the iron-grated door opens itself after receiving the name of a chosen colour. You're never facing the door but you're still able to hear how many different voices there are and how many times the door opened itself.

Three free moon-shaped tables are moving away from the centre of the library, each one getting closer to one of the bookshelves but simply so that everyone has bits of privacy in the process of finding their soulmate. Your table was right in front of a bookshelf already: probably because Cyan thought it was needed for a beginner to receive lots of written knowledge.

Among the variety of people around in the underground library, no one looks familiar to you. You don't meet eyes with them but you can put the blame on the fact that their noses are buried between antiquated books. Even those who are already familiar with one another, don't waste more time than the few seconds a small greeting takes up, simply because they're too disciplined. It makes you feel awkward, as you're too new to step up and introduce yourself to the hardworking set of people.

Silence fills the room to the brim, leaving only the furniture to take up the rest of the space. The only sound you hear is quiet breathing and when a slightly moist fingertip tries to turn the page of one of the books. Whilst everyone is busy with the literate, you are not. The books on your table are shut, still labelled as useless ever since Cyan said that they had no value in your story. But you can't bring yourself to figure out which one your heart wants, or which one your soulmate would recommend to you. Cyan probably was right, but that doesn't tell you how you should find the answer to the question, nor how to find the right book.

You stand up from the decorative stool, trying not to make any noises which you succeed in as you can easily slip off the piece of furniture. You let go of a breath that you had been holding in but it's even quieter than your footsteps as they approach the nearest bookshelf. It's only a few steps before your feet come to a halt in front of it and your eyes take over to complete the next task.

Your eyes stare at all of the books that you find yourself in front of, it's a lot to take in with all of the different colours and letters coming to you at once. Unknown writers and complicated book titles, but as Cyan said, you try not to judge the book by who wrote it or how interesting the title sounds. Society just got you adapted to thinking difficult was always the right choice when it came to literature.

It's like you're standing at an intersection of choices, but there are more than four choices, and perhaps there's only one right option amongst the hundreds of possibilities. Fortunately for you, you can't see how insecure your back looks from this angle: others see the way your shoulders carry a responsibility but they also remember how they had been at the exact same spot not long ago.

"You don't know which book to take?" A voice asks you, the male voice making you spin on your heels immediately just to politely face whoever was speaking to you. The man in front of you has a sweet smile on his lips, you immediately notice that once you look up to his face. The sweet smile tries to indicate that he's being friendly but also gives away that he's happy. You can't help but wonder if he's close to finding his soulmate.

You sigh softly, a monologue that you have been participating in a lot more these past days. Sometimes you sigh because you're frustrated by this endless hunt for answers, other times it's because you feel like you should give up and move on, and other times you do it because you just don't know. The thing you don't know is also hidden behind something you don't know, even though that doesn't really make sense to you. "No, I can't seem to figure out which book is mine" you answer honestly.

"That's totally fine, we all started at this point,"  He tells you, never stopping the smile from hovering over his lips. You realise that maybe out of experience, he's willing to help you more than Cyan is, or at least his advice could help you more than Cyan's vague instructions. "You indeed have to let your soulmate pick the book for you, but there's a catch to it all. The things you think you've researched outside of this library are the things you have to research here again. You're not looking for what a soulmate is, but who your soulmate is."

You're obligated to admit, the words make you think more clearly than Cyan's do. Cyan's words leave you to sleepless nights of wondering what they mean, the words of this man make you think twice and you already know what’s expected of you. Specifically, the last bit of words are what stick to your body and follow you behind even now that you're still standing in front of him.

You're not looking for what a soulmate is, but who your soulmate is.

"There's no right or wrong definition to soulmates, everyone describes it differently. But you have to focus on the things you experienced and find the meaning behind them, after that you can connect them to your special person" He says, the explanation seems never-ending but you willingly accept every single word that leaves his lips right now. The scowl from earlier turns into a grateful smile, you are genuine about the gesture as you feel helped by what he offered you. "Thank you…" you say to him, hesitating to end your sentence as you wish you are able to say the name, but you can't say things you don't know of.

He lets out a tiny laugh as he realises he had been stupid enough to help you before asking whether you need it, and without politely introducing himself, but he's used to helping everyone here now that he's so close to meeting his soulmate. "I'm Johnny, the one who usually helps others around here" He introduces himself, clearly it's not the first time that he does this but you had already figured that out the moment he gave you some useful advice. "I'm y/n, I guess I'm new here. Almost like a high school student on the first day of the first year."

Johnny can't help but let out a soft laugh at the latter part of your introduction, simply because he said something along the lines of that back when he was the youngest of the group here. In a matter of months or even weeks, that position drastically changed. "Everyone is like that at the start, but some new people will join sooner or later. Before you know it, you will be helping them as I helped you."

The words - just like before - stick onto your brain, luckily not onto your heart like his other set of words did. You break the eye-contact with him to instead stare at the many books waiting on the shelves, hoping that magically your soulmate would make one of them fall in the palm of your hand. But it's not as simple as that: your soulmate won't connect the dots for you, it's you who has to do that and your soulmate might create a shape out of it.

With a soft sigh, your eyes flutter themselves shut to get into a moment of peace. It's the scenery of the park that always does the trick for you: it's calming despite knowing there is a life-altering meaning behind it. The tree engulfs you between its branches, and you're safe under the oak with the daisies by your side. The daisies where the book showed you a ritual named "effeuiller la marguerite" of. But it's the tree that keeps you from harm, that invites you to come back over and over again.

It takes a few seconds to remember the scientific classification Cyan gave you, as she probably read it in the same book that you read on that day. Nonetheless, the Quercus dentata unconsciously became a part of the baseline information of which you thought you had it organised. But Johnny was right: you had to focus on things you experienced.

The daimyo oak that engulfs you in its branches seems to want to tell you something, it's an enchanting moment even though it's only a daydream that you find yourself getting lost in. The information that it gives you is purely its existence, yet it's linked to the existence of your soulmate too.

You tilt your head as you have the impression that someone is walking up to you with slow steps, yet it's like that because your heart tells you to live in the moment. The footsteps don't look like Cyan's unstable pace of steps, and on top of that, it's more like a manly figure which you notice by his legs and shoes. It's vague but the individual details will together give you a clear view, layer per layer.

Despite the fact that you're aware it's not Cyan walking up to you, you can't imagine someone else doing so and you have no other option but already think of the outstanding features that strike the starring role in your daydreams. You start to get twitchy with each step the person takes closer to you: it's an eerie feeling that you don't know what to think of. It's a daydream that you're living in, but it all seems a bit too real to be just a dream during the early hours of the evening.

In your daydream, you close your eyes, in hopes that when you open them, you won't be able to see anything but the peaceful scenery around you. Yet, luck isn't always by your side and for once, that's a good thing. You open your eyes and immediately met up with a pair of soft-sentimental-looking eyes. They're brown, in a shade that could be defined by the world's most cherished colour of brown.

"You coloured my heart ecru"

「 ɢʜᴏꜱᴛᴡʜɪᴛᴇ # ꜰ8ꜰ8ꜰꜰ 」

Blank-faced, you look up from the syllables that form a term together, your eyes are slow to react to the sound that triggers your other senses easily. The iron door creaks open as slow as your eyes focus on it, but you're quick to give up the hope that you're going to be the only one in the library tonight. Cyan's voice is quiet but still gets louder with every step she takes inside the library, symbolically taking the young man under her protective wings as he walks into the library after her.

The thick book closes as your elbow moves from between the two separated parts, but it goes unnoticed as your eyes are drawn to Cyan's new -victim- soulmate. A rare warmth spreads around the room and circles him like it's his aura presenting him, he's the young lad your existence softens for.

"I assume this is the library you've been looking for" Cyan announces to the stranger as she smiles at his sudden humbleness. His hands fold together politely as his feet are tightly pressed together to only take up one tile out of the hundreds that embrace him. "A little disclaimer before the library overwhelms you with useless information: pluck the book your heart chooses for you, it's commissioned by your soulmate."

You can see the expression change on his face, there's a universal set of facial expressions of emotion, and surprise seems to be one of the six universal possibilities right now. He doesn't show any of the critical signals aside from the arch that his eyebrows form into. "How do they tell me which book?" He asks once the surprise makes space for an emotion that you can't read so well.

"It just happens, Jungwoo. It might take some time but they will naturally come to you"

With the useless piece of advice, Cyan decides she has given him enough to leave him to his task. She walks away from the new test-subject and moves to a set of books that the others left behind a few hours ago. You can still recognise the cover of the book that Johnny had been reading earlier, and the book Ley read about life after meeting your soulmate. The two of them were awfully close to meeting their soulmates, with Johnny already knowing what the name of his soulmate was. Unlike you: you only possessed of the birth date of your soulmate.

When Cyan's footsteps are the only ones you can hear, your head slightly turns to the side to see around the room and catch the stranger standing on the same tile as before. He seems glued to the tile, the tips of his Nike-branded shoes rub over one another in an attempt to soothe himself, but it only shows how unfamiliar he is with the situation. You can't blame him, you had been like that too not long ago.

"You should sit if you want to" you break the uncomfortable, nearly timed, sound of Cyan's footsteps against the floor. The sound moves to a layer in the background as your voice is now the centre of attention combined with the presence of the young man.

You don't expect an answer to your words as it was a mere offer. But the silence makes your voice fade out instantaneously. One layer less, another chance for silence to fill the room like it did when you were sitting here alone. The stranger can only nod in response, clearly feeling shy when his feet shuffle to the moon-shaped table that is diagonal of yours. He quietly lowers his body and takes a seat on the low stool.

Unfortunately for the stranger, you don't have a lot of time to make him feel at ease in the library. It's self-discipline, something you badly need when you're isolated in this place for almost ten hours and that six days a week. There's more than enough work to do, and much like exams, distractions only cause more harm than help.

Your book is still closed on your desk, a result of getting distraught by Cyan and the stranger bursting into the library not long ago. Soon you notice what happened to your book and let out a tiny curse to yourself, your hands working quickly to open the book again. It's a hard task to find the exact page you left off at: any page between the numbers two hundred nineteen and six hundred eighty would be the one you read last. You know you're to blame for this, not Cyan, not the newbie. More discipline wouldn't be a bad idea.

Your fingertips tumble over each page hastily, starting at page two hundred nineteen to continue browsing over every page that follows after that. If you see the word you read last, you know which page it is, but to do that, you still have to turn each page until your eyes encounter the word. Now that you think of it, you don't even remember which word it was, but hope to retrieve it soon.

On the other side of the library, there are ten fingertips that aren't actively browsing from page to page in a book. Rather than browsing in a book, they're tapping onto the moon-shaped table continuously. It's a composition of instrumentless and voiceless music, a song you never heard, but you don't prefer having to hear it twice.

"I'm sorry but can you stop? I'm trying to focus" you announce in a questioning way, not losing the politeness in your voice as it almost sounds like it's only an option for him to quit. Luckily, he does as you expect of him, causing his fingers to tremble from the sudden lack of stress-relief. "Sorry," he says in a soft tone, sending an apologetic smile your way but the innocence in his voice already causes you to forgive him. "I guess I was trying to call out to my soulmate or something," he says, not holding back the snippet of laughter that nervously bubbles from his lips.

You don't know why your lips curve up into a smile at his lame joke, perhaps because it's amusing to see someone being nervous about being here. Now you now why Cyan works in this library, she can laugh at people's stupidity on a daily basis. You still remember how entertained she was when you said numerous spells to the door when you only had to say the colour you picked out to open the door.

"It's okay" you say back to him and smile, but you notice from the look on his face that he's filled to the brim with nerves. "You must be nervous" you suggest, giving him the opportunity to open up if that's what he needs right now. You, like no one else, are aware of the unfavourable feelings that the soulmate context brings along. After days, you still don't have a label to paste on the feelings from back then, simply because you still don't know what to feel now either. "I am. One of my friends already met his soulmate, and my parents are soulmates too. They suggested for me to visit this place as they said not everyone can find their soulmate randomly" he explains even if he doesn't state the reason why he's so nervous. Perhaps the pressure is the reason: pressured to find his special person because his friend did and his parents obviously did too.

You nod at his explanation, making sure he knows that you're listening, but you don't interrupt as you want to hear how he feels. His story reminds you of Sicheng who made you believe even more than you perhaps did before. Whether you were a believer or not, is something you don't remember because you simply didn't think about it that often. Perhaps you were a believer, or one of the more sceptical people, or you could have been a non-believer. Whatever you were, it didn't matter anymore, you are a believer now.

"My name is Jungwoo by the way," He says before you can respond to his explanation, he probably saw your facial expression as you were trying to form a correct answer and also didn't feel like telling you an uninteresting story of how he found out someone was his soulmate. To say it easily, the subject changed.

"I'm y/n"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

It's twenty-five to eleven when you take the small steps to reach the street again, spinning on your heel to see Jungwoo sliding down the railing that separates the stairs evenly.

The sight makes you clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to silence the laugh that threatens to leave your lips. But only after you see Jungwoo losing his balance unexpectedly which causes his little playful moment to come to an end a little too soon. His feet stumble over the last two steps of the stairs before his body bumps against yours with full speed.

Not by speed, but by force, your body is dragged backwards and you almost hit the floor with a shocked Jungwoo in your arms. But before that happens, his fast reflexes are able to catch himself and you before the unfortunate event takes place. Yet, it doesn't stop the two pairs of feet from trying to find balance on the evenly divided ground.

"I'm sorry" Jungwoo immediately apologises as he makes sure your two feet can find balance without his arms holding you up, but the mere distance between your bodies causes his own feet to be unstable. It's a feeling he needs to shake off, his soulmate is somewhere waiting for him, and your soulmate must be waiting for you somewhere as well. "I was just trying to make you laugh, not fall"

"But I didn't fall, and I had a good laugh. Trust me, I had more fun in those seconds than in the past days" you admit easily to Jungwoo, it's the downside of being isolated in an underground library, but hopefully not a future consequence of looking for your soulmate. "Ah" is the only thing that slips past Jungwoo's lips at your response, it leaves both of you in a communal cloud of wondering what to say to not make it any more uneasy.

You simultaneously look into the same direction when a flower-shaped shadow seems to dwindle down from a large tree. "Did you see that?" You ask as confusion spreads over your face, your eyes torn between looking at Jungwoo or the shadow that slowly disappears once it hits the ground. The soft landing must have taken the silhouette to blend their shades into one.

"Sorry?" Jungwoo asks as he looks at you again, his head tilted to the left as he tries to find the reason behind your confusion. The beanie that refrains his hair from moving too much doesn't prevent his bangs from moving in the same direction as his head.

The reaction leaves you speechless and stumbling over your own words before you even say them, "the flower. A daisy just fell from that tree," you say as you point upwards to the large creation of nature. Jungwoo's eyes can't help but follow your fingers up to the leaves of the tree, he can't see the colour of them in the darkness, but daisies are absent in the almost-chromatic view.

"I don't see anything" he responds to your words as he tries to make his eyes work harder, but no matter how much he squints, the enlarged view shows a total lack of flowers in the tree, especially daisies.

Tiredness is clearly ruling a position as CEO while you're only a personal assistant for the feeling. "I'm tired, I bet it was something else or my eyes are just clowning around" you mumble in disappointment when you realise Jungwoo is right. When you look at the tree again, you don't see any daisies, and you become aware that daisies don't commonly fall from trees that aren't specific daisy trees.

"Sounds like you should go home" Jungwoo mumbles to you, letting a soft smile coat his lips and you're sure your clumsiness has been forgotten unless he's planning on teasing you with it for the upcoming time. It's something you see him capable of as earlier, he had a good laugh about a writer's odd name. But the soft smile that displays on his lips makes you trust him not to tease too much.

"I think I will" you confirm Jungwoo's suggestion, trying to give him a similar soft-looking smile in return, but you're too tired to control the muscles that make the gesture possible. Like a stereotypical teenager from a sappy romance, Jungwoo hides his large hands in his jeans pockets. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Your response is a soft hum before you confirm it with your words. "I'm here every day, most of the day. So expect to see me a lot" you answer his question.

"I'll look forward to it" Jungwoo quickly tells you, the genuine tone in his voice refraining you from walking away without saying goodbye.

An hour later and you find yourself tucked in a thin sheet that is supposed to keep your body heat at a stable temperature for the rest of the night. Though, it's not the sheet that keeps your body at a pleasant temperature, but rather the little train of comforting thoughts that rides around in your mind.

From the little moments of laughter you shared with Jungwoo, to the sweet brown eyes of your soulmate that you continuously gaze into whenever you close your own.

It makes you feel warm inside

Your eyes - as they usually are when you're in bed - are closed as you want to go over all of the little big things of today. Yet, by now, you should know that it's a task you won't be able to fulfill.

While the colour is sometimes considered dull, the brown colour of his eyes seem to create other feelings. Feelings of warmth and wholesomeness as you gaze into them. The green palette of the park surrounds the two of you and you can feel the trunk of the Quercus dentata against your back.

"Don't pluck me daisies. Just make me be your flower"

「 ᴡʜɪᴛᴇꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ # ꜰ5ꜰ5ꜰ5 」

"I don't understand what else I have to find out, Cyan" you breathe out as you drop the heavy-weighted book on top of some others that you had been scanning through for the past four and a half hours. Another two hundred seventy minutes wasted, and yes, wasted was the right word to use for all the time you spent in the library so far.

Cyan easily notices the high level of pressure, she already noticed when you first made your entrance of the day. "What do you mean by that?" She asks you as she tries to lift her body to sit on the side of the moon-shaped table but eventually just leans against it before accidents happen. "I already found out I have to play a game with the daisies, and my soulmate's birthday is February nineteen. What else do I have to find out?"

The way you say your words makes it easy for Cyan to see through them and bump into a big lump of exhaustion. It's a price many people pay but at the same time no one asked them to pay the fee, it's something people do to themselves because they're so desperate to claim someone to be theirs. You're no different from anyone when it comes to that, no one is any different. At least humans have one thing in common even though it doesn't make them less unique.

"Potentially, you could look for your soulmate"

A scowl coats your entire facial expression, your muscles doing work without you having to ask about it. You open your mouth to speak up but silence yourself from the string of curses and confusion that blend together to a feeling called bitterness.

"What?" You ask as you wish to get rid of your confusion, you swallow the curses you want to throw at her. You shouldn't curse at her, seeing that aside from her vague way of phrasing things, she's a blessing. The bitter feeling on the tip of your tongue is something you want to out but just like tastebuds, they stay in their place for you to enjoy the lingering bitterness a bit more. "You mean I've been here 24/7 for nothing?" you ask her, quick to hold her back because you receive a vague answer to your surprised exclaim, but even if this time your question is unmistakable, you still expect a similar answer.

"Darling," Cyan is about to continue but you hold up your hand in aim for her to stop. You know where her "darling" leads you in life. And that destination is non-existent.

Despite your tries to stop, she doesn't. "Listen to me y/n. You can go out and find your soulmate right now, no one ever told you to stay inside the library. If you know how to find your soulmate, go for it"

Now, that is something Cyan doesn't need to tell you twice. Instead of cursing at you, you now want to hug her tightly and press numerous pecks to her cheek to thank her. It's something you don't do though, but you could if you follow your current happy hunch.

It's the isolation that took a toll on your well-being and affected your way of coping with different emotions and situations. Before you entered this enchanted place, you were as sweet as a strawberry but now that you were allowed to leave, you walked out as a bitter cranberry that was kept in the fridge for one day too long.

"Are you serious?" You just want to hear her say the words once more, confirm that it was what she truly said before. You expect yourself to run out of the library within an instant, but your feet are attached to the tile as you wait for her to repeat the words once more.

She doesn't repeat the words once more, she simply nods and drifts off before you're able to stop her from doing so. Your eyes follow every movement she makes in the direction of another door and disappears behind it before you're able to see what is behind that door.

With your feet securely attached to the tiled-floor, you had no other option but to awkwardly stay still for at least sixty seconds. Your thoughts go blank at you look around the library.

Jungwoo is still sitting where he usually sits, his head buried between a book while his right hand is holding a pen in case he has to make notes. There is a white pair of earbuds in his ear so you assume or hope that he didn't hear the exclamations you made during the conversation with Cyan.

Generally, things aren't any more filled or less empty as they usually are. If anything misses, it's the presence of the other soulmate-searching humans. Today there's no Johnny, Ley, Isabelle, Donghyuck or any of the others that would usually be around at this hour of the day. You're aware they don't come every day, but you're so used to their presence filling up the ancient space even if they constantly read.

Your feet take you a step backwards, going towards the door to head outside. It's too early to celebrate that you can finally leave this antiquated hellhole because there's a hint of truth in Cyan's words, and you fear not being able to come back once you leave permanently.

"I'm going to go out for some air" you announce to no one in particular, it's not like anyone is available to you, but you still feel like telling so that Cyan and Jungwoo both know that you'll be back in a matter of minutes. You mean to see that Jungwoo nods, but realise soon that he's only bobbing his head along to a pop song.

You spin around and take the silence as an opportunity to leave for a few minutes, it doesn't have to be long, just some time to properly think and put everything on a non-organised timeline in your head. The iron door closes as you take your leave and follow the stairs up, right now they seem to lead to temporary freedom.

Once you're outside, it seems like you haven't seen the world in more than a year, even if it's been a matter of days, not even enough to make a sum that ends in enough days for a month. You have no idea what time it is until you look up at the sky and imagine this must be what the sky looks like when it's afternoon.

Your freedom only lasts for a minute, before you know it, you're claimed by whoever is making your phone vibrate in your back pocket. How did you even forget about the little device you used to be obsessed with?

Your hand slips in your pocket, clutching the phone between your parted fingertips before pulling it out of the pocket. It's only a matter of seconds before the phone is facing you with a bright screen, revealing that it's not just a text message but that someone is calling you.

Called ID is no other than your best friend Sicheng, and you waste no time in picking up the phone to hear what he has to say. You breathe into the speaker without realising that you do, already looking forward to hearing a voice other than Cyan's.

"y/n? Are you okay?" Sicheng asks, hiding a cough because he thinks he disturbed you in a heated moment, yet that's far from what is going on right now. "I am, sorry" you quickly say, regaining control over yourself to not pull such weird stunts once again. The last thing you want is Sicheng to think about your bed-activities.

"I've been trying to call you for the past two hours now, but it never went through" Sicheng breathes out himself but it's a sigh of relief that he finally gets to talk to you. He's not the type to call, so he must have been in a state of distress when he wasn't able to reach you. "I was busy, sorry" you apologise once more to him.

Sicheng sighs for the second time, it's another exhale of pure relief. "I have to talk to you, do you have time? It's important," he says before you're able to ask why he called you non-stop for the past two hours. You opt to nod but after a few seconds, realise that he can't see it. Normally he's next to you but now you're hearing his voice through the phone so he can't see you, and you can't see him.

"Of course, I have time" you answer Sicheng as you try to speak in a comforting tone, not aware of what Sicheng is about to say but it already sounds like it's something serious. "What is it?" you ask when your eyes don't pick up any response, no sound, nix.

"It's about the daisies"

You are all eyes and ears once he mentions the little flowers that have become so precious to you. Your eyes even glance to the spot where you thought you saw a daisy dwindling a couple of days ago, back when Jungwoo must have labelled you as lunatic.

"What about the daisies?" you ask back carefully, your hand fumbling with the edge of your shirt as your heartbeat picks up the pace. Through your veins spread nothing but fear, because deep in your heart you know exactly what happened to the white-coloured flowers.

"How long has it been since you were in the park?"

The question doesn't take you by surprise but it makes your nerves build up even more. The pit in your stomach now seems to take up al available space and even then, it only seems to grow bigger and bigger. Your mind has to dig through countless of book pages to get to the asked piece of information: when was the last time you had been in the park?

"A few days ago?" you answer in a questioning tone, admitting the words take you by surprise. It gives you time to reflect on yourself: how you abandoned the park for the library, and the real tree for a fantasia daydream of it. All of that for your soulmate, even if it's your own fault.

Sicheng hears how unsure you are by the underlying tone in your voice, it gives away that you're either way insecure or scared. He opts for the second one: it obviously wasn't going to be good news if he had been trying to reach you for over two hours just to happily talk about your visits to the park. "I was there today, y/n."

"And?" you impatiently urge for him to continue speaking before you properly processed the words that he went to the park. It's nerve-wracking to wait until he finally speaks up, even if you doubt that you want to hear what he has to say.

Nix.

"The daisies are gone, someone plucked them off. Only some stems are left"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

When you wished for freedom, you didn't wish for the four daisies to be plucked away from you.

Your fingers dig through the grass in an attempt to find remains of the daisies, or find new barely-blooming daisies. You run your fingers through the cold grass multiple times, your eyes observing between the blades of grass to hopefully encounter something.

Sadly, you have to conclude that everything is gone, aside from the stems that are hidden between the grass. Clearly, the non-beautiful pieces were left even if they were critical to the white-yellow-coloured flower. There is a torn piece of a white petal laying in the depths of the grass, and you grieve over it.

Tears are endangering the soft and dry skin fo your cheeks, but the wet tears stay hidden in the corners of your eyes for as long as you're strong enough to hold them back. "Why?"

You don't get a response to your question, simply because you're not asking anyone, and no one is around you to answer. You know it's a question you can answer for yourself, and there is only one answer possible: you're the one to blame.

The blame is put on yourself, for various and valid reasons. For starters, you abandoned the park to spend your time in a library where books guide your feelings instead of your heart. Second, you were the person that wished for freedom and it heavily affected your chances to ever meet your soulmate in this life.

The combination of thoughts trigger the tears and they take their chance to slowly roll down your cheeks in grief. You feel your cheeks getting wet with remains of sadness, regret and grief. Before the first one falls onto the green grass, another one already rushes out and follows the wet trail.

You want to close your eyes and disappear from reality, but you don't allow yourself to see your soulmate's soft orbs when you close your own. Instead, you can only stare at what should have been the flowers guiding you as you walked on the path to your soulmate.

Whatever there is left to grasp, you grasp between your fingertips. You pull pieces of grass from the earth in the process of taking the leftover stems from their designated growing space.

When you stand up from your kneeled position, you faintly notice that the jeans fabric that covers your knees became a mixed colour of green and brown: the colours of grass and dirt. But the discoloured jeans are the least of your concerns right now.

With the stems of the daisies tightly clutched in your fist, you leave the daimyo oak alone by running out of the park. There's only one place you can go, and only one person that can tell you what to do: Cyan.

Your feet had never been this fast whilst running to the library, nor had your eyes done an effort of this kind to make sure you didn't bump into fellow humans or objects. That was one less disappointment for you to worry about. You had no idea for how long you ran when you finally arrived at the library, it seemed to have taken hours but in reality, it must have been a matter of minutes.

"Ecru" leaves you lips before you run through the barely-opened door to get inside the library. You look around frantically, searching for Cyan but you can only see Jungwoo who is still studying whatever he got to know about his soulmate.

Your feet skip over the large tiles as you march over to Jungwoo, trying to be understanding but you pull at the cord of his earbuds so that at least one of them falls from his ear. His lips are parted in surprise and it takes him a second to turn his head and realise that it's you who did it.

"Where is Cyan?"

Jungwoo doesn't answer your question immediately, causing you to only get more anxious. Tears start to rapidly flow down your cheeks, they do it gracefully but the sight looks far from that in third-person view.

"Why are you crying?" Jungwoo asks you worriedly, grasping your arm in an attempt to pull you into a comforting hug. But your trembling hands don't allow it, yet, they're too weak to stay together to protect whatever is left of the little daisies.

The remains sadly fall to the floor, descending from between your fingertips and onto the cold tiles. Your eyes meet Jungwoo's momentarily but as soon as you become aware of the emptiness in your hands, your blurry vision shifts to your hands, and towards the floor.

One droplet, two droplets and still flowing. Falling on the sadly fallen flower stems and petals.

"They plucked my daisies" you croak out in a broken voice, staring at the floor where the faint green colour becomes the eye-catcher of the scenery. Your blurry vision leaves you with nothing but hues, you can't even recognise the shape of a stem in the little heap that was on the floor.

You still feel the stems falling from between your fingers even though you're left empty-handed.

"Your daisies?" Jungwoo asks as he stares at the floor as well. His vision clear enough to see blades of grass, mixed with a couple of while petals and next to them some more greenery that he can't particularly name because they look the same as grass but a different texture. It's the little petal that makes him realise what you mean when you say the word 'daisies' but it still doesn't click in his mind.

His hand awkwardly moves towards you as you continue to sadly drop your tears over the greenery, his hand is reaching towards your back but pulls back in hesitation.

Before Jungwoo is able to make up his mind about the right way of comforting you, your name is called by Cyan who almost spurts from the hidden room within the library. She marches over to you with quick and heavy steps until she's right in front of you.

"y/n, what's wrong?" Cyan asks as her foot hovers over the stems unnoticeably, her hands move to your shoulders to make looking into your eyes possible. Her hands instantly straighten your shoulders but your eyes never leave the stems that are now crushed by a pair of elderly-woman shoes. You don't have the guts to say anything about it, if anything, it makes you realise that your chance to meet your soulmate is crushed.

"My daisies" you start to say but you can't finish off what you said so far. The daisies were the only living organism that mattered to you aside from your soulmate, and now, both of those were lost. Your arms that limply hang from your body bring a movement to your index finger, merely pointing down to where Cyan is standing. The effort goes by unnoticed, even by yourself.

"Your daisies?" Cyan inquires but the tears that freely run down your cheeks give away the answer before you even have to tell her what's going on. Better than you know, she is aware of your task and aware of the five daisies that led you to your soulmate. She doesn't judge even if she knows, she listens.

You nod your head, hiccuping due to the lump of sadness that is stuck in your throat. "Someone plucked my daisies and now they are gone."

Cyan's hands that had been on your shoulders, rapidly move to the back of your head as she pulls your body against her own. Her lips part as she wants to say everything will be okay any upcoming day, but that sadly wasn't the truth, nor would you believe it if she said that.

"Look at me," she tells you, once again holding onto your shoulders as she distances your bodies. Your tear-filled eyes are slow to react and ignorant as you can barely focus them on her. "This doesn't mean the end, y/n. I'm going to help you look for a way to make this right."

You want to trust her, you really do. But you can't bring yourself to put a grain of trust in her words because they seem unrealistic, just like everything else that is happening in this library.

"y/n," she says your name effortlessly because she knows you're listening even if you are not willing to. "I'm going to help you. Together we can still find your soulmate" she tells you, just the same words as earlier but with different words and phrases.

You take her hands away from your shoulders and shake your head in response. Your earlier wish for freedom becomes the wish to never remember any of the things that happened, a wish for the daimyo oak to permanently and magically disappear from the park so that you never have to look back at it again.

"Sorry Cyan," You say to her, the words hide the exact phrase that you're giving up or you've already given up at this point. Once more, your eyes meet the floor in sadness.

A virgin-white petal stares at you from its position on the floor, it's as damaged as your heart is, yet, its condition doesn't make you feel less lonely. You bend down, not caring if both Cyan and Jungwoo are staring at you whilst you grieve over the lost and broken petals.

Your fingertip reaches out for the petal, carefully lifting it as it rests on your fingertip.

You have to decide if you're going to wilt like a daisy or if you're just going to go forward and live the life that you've been granted

「 ʙᴇɪɢᴇ # ꜰ5ꜰ5ᴅᴄ 」

Your fingertip caresses the outline of the daisy that is printed on the spine of the book, your finger lifting slightly when it comes across one of the raised bands in the middle of the spine. It's useless to open the book but you can't help it, you open the book until the gutter is steady enough to separate the two parts.

Another illustration of a daisy stares back at you as you observe it, it's the anatomy of a daisy, something you surely knew by head at this point. Why did you still remember it even when you would never be able to use the knowledge?

Your heart hurts, almost symbolically sinks when your thumb tumbles over a few chapters, a new page greeting you with the uses of a daisy. Your eyes follow the different uses: culinary when its young leaves are between other edible greenery in a salad, herbal medicine when their juice is extracted to heal wounds, soulmate when it's destined that a person looks for an object of affection through the French game effeuiller la marguerite.

You swallow away the lump of sentiment in the back of your throat, trying not to gaze upon the infamous word, but you read out the word silently at least five times, once for every flower you abandoned in the park. Your thumb moves to the corner of the page, over the page number in hopes to skip over the page.

Yet, two minutes later, your eyes still read over the words while your thumb is frozen upon the digits that you don't want to change. It's like you're sentimentally obsessed, a bad consequence of not being able to say goodbye before your grieving process began.

Donghyuck who has been studying a book about dreams -as he has been dreaming about his soulmate and still would dream about them until the day they would meet one another -, stands up from his stool as he sees you lurking around the bookshelves in distress and grief.

"Are you alright, y/n?" he asks with a caring smile on his lips, you miss the sight because your eyes are endlessly pasted on the page of the book. At first, you only nod in response before muttering out a quiet, "yes."

Donghyuck shakes his head, his hand pulling on the top edge of the book to take it from your tight grip. "Focus on me for a few seconds, please. I know you're not alright," he says as he manages to conquer your weak grip, receiving the book between his hands even if it was never your intention for it to end up in his hands.

"I don't want to talk," You say as you look at Donghyuck but only momentarily, not allowing him to look at your tear-filled eyes for longer than a handful of seconds. You lower your head, facing the floor and mistakably see the green hue of the stems even when the floor is clean and only matte in its own dark-blue colouration.

"I know," Donghyuck responds, his hands gently put away the book on the nearby bookshelf before he takes your hands in his to hold. "But you can't give up now, your soulmate is waiting somewhere for you. Are you going to give all of that up because of the daisies?"

Even if you don't want to listen to what he has to say - because you've heard the same words at least twenty times in the past week - you can't help but listen to every word and consider it in the depths of your mind. "I know," you answer to his words but leave his question unanswered.

Yes, you are going to give up the progress you made because your daisies are plucked away. There is no reason for you to continue the search of your object of affection just to please your inner-soulmate personality or dreams. The longer you think about it, the more doubts you start to have with everything that has happened. No one could change your mind thus far: not Johnny who came by to say he met his soulmate, not Émilie that took your seat the times she was there, not Cyan who tried her hardest to be a positivist in this situation.

"Don't give up yet," Donghyuck said as he looked at you, a sad smile coating his lips because he felt emotional by just the sight and thought. If he were to lose the one thing that could lead him to his soulmate, he would have given up too, perhaps even earlier than you did. "You still have the daimyo oak in the park right? Please don't give up so soon."

You don't plan on replying to Donghyuck's endless pleading about you giving up, but a response is not anticipated anymore when the noise of the iron doors opening suddenly interrupts the conversation. All heads turn to the door, even yours is quick to react by giving all of your focus to the door instead of the melancholic-looking floor.

You catch a glimpse of who is running out of the door before it slowly starts to close again.

Black-haired Jungwoo who had been dressed in his usual jeans with nothing but a simple shirt to dress him up casually for the daily library visits. The white Converse-branded shoes on his feet take him out of the library as fast as his feet allow him to go. Walking is not even an option, he is running.

"What is going on?" Donghyuck and you simultaneously blurt out when seeing the young boy run out like his life is depending on it. Even when the iron-grated door slowly closes again, your eyes don't recolate, too astonished by the sudden unexplained and unexpected situation.

Cyan slowly steps forward towards the door as she sees it closing, she carries a smile on her lips as she knows exactly what is going on. She glances proudly at the closed doors, her eyes slowly blinking as her imagination is prepared to show her what is going to follow next. "His soulmate," she answers shortly, giving you and Donghyuck a soft look "flowers are blooming on his path, he must know the way."

The words leave you and Donghyuck clueless, but it's the smile displayed on her lips that make you the most confused that you have been in a while. You have the perception that Jungwoo found his soulmate, or at least is one step further than he was last week.

As you feel your heart breaking, you experience happiness that Jungwoo found his soulmate.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The minute hand ticks around the clock twice, it signals four times in two hours: when a new hour is announced and when that same hour passed halfway already.

One hundred sixty-six minutes pass by on the clock, you don't count any of the minutes but you're aware enough of the time each time you take a small glance. Due to the observing skill, it's not hard to count how many minutes pass by.

The minute hand is about to move a millimetre under your watching eyes, but you get distraught by the sound of the door opening. It can only be one person, the person everyone waited for: the person Donghyuck and you stayed longer for, the person Cyan dropped her work for.

Jungwoo appears inside again with a jubilant smile coating his lips, he looks like he won a singing contest but is out of breath due to the timeworn use of his voice. He breathes deeply as the doors close, giving him a cool breeze even though his body feels too warm to get cooled off.

"y/n," he starts immediately as his steps approach you, his pace fast but the rhythm in his footsteps are off due to the running back and forth he did. Twelve steps further, he stops when he is only two steps away from making physical contact with you.

You stay silent as you're taken by surprise, surprised by the sudden unexpected scenario that is yet to unfold right in front of your eyes. Speechless, even after a few seconds, you still can't utter out a response.

"I was in the park," Jungwoo says as he notices your silence, his breathing faintly coating a layer of warmth on your cheeks due to the condensation. His hand reaches out to yours gently, running only the pad of his thumb over the skin of your hand. "In the park?" you ask him soft, your expression brightening by a whisker, but it's enough for Jungwoo to see the changes.

"I was in the park" He repeats again, his other four fingertips slowly embracing yours until he is properly holding your hand in his. Your hand is trembling in anticipation or fear, for whatever is about to leave his lips next.

You nod in response, urging for him to continue speaking, you want to pull the words out of his mind so that you can hear them sooner, but realise he must have seen something unforeseen. "I went to the park for you, because I heard you talking about the Daimyo oak. So I immediately left and went there, and under the tree was a daisy."

A daisy. Those are the only two words you process out of all of the words he said. It's quiet when you try to once again process and accept what he said, your imagination running wild over the thought of one single daisy blooming under the oak, giving you another chance to meet your soulmate.

"Are you for real?" you ask as a smile slowly creeps onto your lips, your lips desire to curve upwards but you don't let them because your heart doesn't want to be harmed in case it was only a sick joke on your grieving process.

Jungwoo excitedly bobs his head up and down as a yes, he's excited but at the same time he has never been so serious about something before, he's torn with what way to bring over the news to you in order for you to believe it. But the young man can't contain the positivity that streamed through his veins when under the Daimyo oak, he saw a tiny daisy growing.

"You have to get to the park," Donghyuck says with a bright smile, Jungwoo's excitement clearly getting transferred to Donghyuck because he's unable to control the happy expression on his face. His eyes shift to Jungwoo and then back to you, not even considering Cyan who has been standing with you as well. "Go!"

Cyan clears her throat before you can do as Donghyuck says, it doesn't stop you from taking a step towards the door but does stop you from running out of the library to check if a daisy is really growing in the spot where the other four had been plucked away. She calls your name to make you turn towards her, which you do as you become aware that she wants to say something.

"Don't let it get plucked away again," She starts saying in a serious tone, almost strict as this might truly be the last chance you have to find your soulmate. You react by nodding your head, not giving her words attention, nor do you use your own words to reply to her.

It turns out to be Donghyuck who triggers you into ignoring Cyan "go!" he shouts and in reaction to that, you take off running. You exchange the library for the outside world again, this time not for freedom, but for your soulmate who might have given you one last chance.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Desire is like a storm. Things get broken

There is a quote saying "where flowers bloom, so does hope."

Hope bloomed in the depths of your heart as you ran all the way from the library to the park, running over the grass instead of the path just to get there a few seconds faster. From afar you weren't able to see if your tree engulfed a little blooming daisy.

But once you came closer, close enough to observe small-scaled details. One thing you're not able to observe is the growth of a little miracle in the grass.

Green is the only colour that paints the grass-filled space underneath the tree, you're not colour-blind, as no petals nor disks stare at you as you stare down in search for them. There are no daisies growing, peeking from out of the grass to grow even taller than the green blades.

"Where is the daisy?" you ask yourself quietly as you glance around your aura, circling around like a clock but it's useless. Nothing is growing, nor blooming, aside from the pain in your heart, even though you're embraced by the branches of the Daimyo oak.

Your view lowers itself another notch, this time in disappointment as there is nothing more to observe. Whether Jungwoo played a joke on you, or the flower got plucked away between the time that you and Jungwoo separately observed here, is something that doesn't matter. It's not Jungwoo's fault, nor is it the tree's that didn't protect its fellow natural miracle. It's your fault, you couldn't even live life as a natural flower, you bloomed like an artificial flower.

「 ꜰʟᴏʀᴀʟᴡʜɪᴛᴇ # ꜰꜰꜰᴀꜰ0 」

Your slouched shoulders effortlessly moved along with the natural movement as soon as you sigh, the walls seem to tighten after you let out the sigh. You feel closed in but the walls are so far away, it feels like you are left alone in a place you don't recognise anymore.

The physical sensation you feel when you sigh makes it clear that you're heartbroken, if not any feeling that is even worse than heartbreak. Even though heartbreak is the excellent word to use right now, broken not by your soulmate, but by yourself.

There's a hot cup in your hands, hot from the heat of the beverage, but it doesn't warm up your cold fingertips, nor does your heart feel warm by the little source of heat.

Less than one week ago, your days still felt enchanted. Filled to the upper brim with magic of the unexplained. Your warm beverage had tasted like the loveliest love potion, and you had willingly drunk every sip until the last drop fell on your tongue.

Each day was different but no less magical, if anything, each day that passed was more magical than the other. The twenty-four hours in a day resembled one step towards your soulmate, thus you walked the path for countless hours, and got one step closer to the promised land with each day that appeared on the calendar.

Dull. Days no longer felt magical or enchanted. Days were endlessly filled with dullness: every twenty-four hours, all one thousand four hundred forty hours, and the many seconds you could convert it to but that would fall into more depressive thoughts about never being able to walk the path.

Flowers had wilted on the path, blooming was something that wouldn't occur again. It was one of a kind opportunity to see the path filled with flowers. Unforgettable. Now you're doomed to walk on the same path and notice how the shades of reality coloured life but left the wilted flowers monochrome.

"ecru"

The word is hidden behind the muffled scoff that you let out but you can hear yourself saying the words. You don't expect a large door to grant you access to a library this time, if anything, you wish for something grander. Whether your grand wish has something to do with your soulmate is something you don't even know: you wish to meet him but at the same time you wish to forget everything that happened. Even though you're sitting in your own home, you hope that you can forget the past weeks and return home. A world without Daimyo oak and daisies.

Next to the post-it note where the term of the colour is scribbled down on, is your phone that has been endlessly occupied with its buzzing indications. It's something you opted to ignore for the past forty minutes even though the buzzing is more bothersome than the person who is spamming you with possible supportive messages.

You let out a soft sigh when the buzzing finally comes to a halt for longer than five seconds, you can't see it yourself but a sense of relief is washing over your facial expression, coating the sadness momentarily.

Now that the obnoxious buzzing isn't filling your eardrums, you feel tempted to pick up the phone and look at the messages, perhaps even force yourself to reply to some of them. Your temptation is hard to neglect, and within a span of nine seconds, the phone moves from the table into your hand.

The plain lockscreen of a professionally photographed scenery makes you think negatively about the way people see reality, it's them that see all of the nice colours while in reality, things are as coloured as you make them, and you're not planning on continuing your life with a pair of ecru-coloured glasses sugarcoating the world.

You're about to press the button to make your screen go black but get reminded of the many notifications because of the little border that restricts you from seeing the full picture on the screen. You take a second to stare at all of them: not individually even if multiple messages and useless emails have been displayed there, the global look seems to be your concept for picking who is important enough to reply to.

One name catches your attention, a name that you put in your contacts but never received a message from, nor ever sent a message to him: Kim Jungwoo.

Jungwoo [ 9 : 59 am ] : please reply, Cyan said that you shouldn't let the daisy get plucked away

The message makes you press the screen multiple times, once to say you want to read the message and twice to confirm to your phone that opening the messaging app is all you want at this moment. The coloured lockscreen disappears from your sight, instead, you're greeted with at least a dozen of one-sided messages, waiting for a response from you.

You scroll up lightly, until the moment your screen nearly hits the top of the saved conversation. Intensely, you read them word by word even though minutes ago, you swore you became a non-believer

Jungwoo [ 9 : 10 am ] : are you awake? There's something I need to say

Jungwoo [ 9 : 31 am ] : the daisy is under the oak in the park

Jungwoo [ 9 : 31 am ] : please believe me this time, I swear it's there

Jungwoo [ 9 : 46 am ] : let me go to the park with you, I'll show you

Jungwoo [ 9 : 48 am ] : please believe me. This oak is my birth flower and I believe in the magic that it would grant you a daisy because it did. I swear the daisy is there

Jungwoo [ 9 : 50 am ] : I'm staying here until you reply

Even though it was a waste of time, you still read the remaining seven messages to yourself, they all said the same, they all told you to reply or get your ass to the park as fast as possible. Another element that returned in more than half of the messages: the daisy.

Your feet are steadily placed on the floor, your legs seem to make it a forceful feeling like you're preparing to start running a marathon any second now. Indeed, you are ready for takeoff whenever the last straw triggers you into doing so. There's only one destination, one path, one marathon trail and that leads you straight to the park.

But it's your mind that runs a different marathon and prevents you from putting stupid thoughts into action, your mind endlessly avoids both of the paths there are: to go or not to go. You have enough reasons not to, seeing last time there hadn't been a daisy. If there is a reason to go, it's for your soulmate.

There is nothing you can lose by going, or at least that's what your heart tells you to tone down the loudness of your mind's unsteady footsteps. Plus you still trust Jungwoo, despite him being incorrect about the daisy last time, but you convince yourself that he stood under the wrong tree…

"The wrong tree?" You question the words you tried to convince yourself of, it's a thought that didn't cross your mind before but he had never explicitly said the Daimyo oak was his birth flower. It meant that he wouldn't be able to choose the wrong tree, there was only one Daimyo oak in the park, and apparently, it was accompanied by one daisy.

Jungwoo [ 10 : 13 ] : please come to the park

The buzz from the phone almost went through your veins, triggering you into the takeoff you had expected. Without responding to the text, you put the phone in your pocket as you got up from your chair.

Left your house, door wide open, heaven knows.

The daisy is so worth it, it is.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The unbuttoned grey trenchcoat that Jungwoo is wearing immediately pulls your attention, almost no one could pull off being so tall and make a trenchcoat look shorter than it proportionally was. Yet, it is the pure-looking facial features that bring the small sign of happiness to your lips.

"Finally!" He breathes out as you take the last few steps towards him, removing his hands from the 'storm' pockets to immediately run them through his black haircut instead. His body is filled with healthy tension and perhaps fear as well, because he badly wants you to believe him, after all, he had been speaking the truth all this time.

"How long have you been here?" You ask worriedly as you imagine him being here for way longer than you might realise, especially when you think about the forty minutes that he begged for you to come to the park. Jungwoo shrugs in response but there's a mischievous smile that tells you everything you need to know, "not too long".

As you look at Jungwoo, the Daimyo oak seems to naturally catch your attention by being as tall as it is. You don't need to tell the black-haired boy in front of you about the oak, nor about your newly-found excitement and hope about the daisy because Jungwoo can almost feel your emotions spreading through the many veins in his body.

"Oh!" Jungwoo reminds himself when he remembers why the mischievous smile was on his lips and the reason why he had been waiting here at the park for over an hour. "You have to come and look at the daisy," he said as his hand leaves his hair and immediately reaches out for your hand.

It would have looked like him dragging you along if it weren't for your own fast-paced footsteps that match Jungwoo's as you march towards the oak. You stay quiet as you anticipate the appearance of a little daisy, but Jungwoo can only let out a happy sound that almost sounds like a giggle.

You heard those happy giggles before, years ago, when your friends played "loves me, loves me not" with the daisies in the park and you wonder if soon you will be the giggly person because there is someone who answered you positively. You might not be at the appropriate age to giggle about such things, but better late than never. And when you're old: nostalgia is nostalgia, no matter at which age you were giggly over a lover you met through a game of loves me, loves me not.

Your feet move slightly faster than Jungwoo's when you're only a few steps away from being under what seems like your safe haven. Jungwoo takes it as a sign and slowly lets go of your hand, stopping his feet from moving before he's able to step into your safe bubble.

His eyes follow every movement you make, his eyes shining with happiness for you but he feels a little piece of his heart hiding the feelings that he isn't supposed to feel. He doesn't want to feel as okay as he feels, he wants to tear up but something tells him it's okay to be okay. His thoughts take him to fragments of time: when he saw you laugh or when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, all of the times he can look back on with his honest heart that stays hidden for the outside world.

"Jungwoo?"

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he doesn't need to move his head to be able to see you as he had been staring at you and the scenery unknowingly. Nervously, his hand itches the back of his neck but still doesn't get the hint that something is expected from him.

"There is no daisy," You tell him even if it is too quiet for him to hear it, you only hear yourself say the words. You wish you were in a phase of denial, a phase where your mind will sugarcoat the sad story with something untrue and non-realistic. "There is no daisy!"

The second time the words leave your lips, Jungwoo can clearly hear what you said. "What do you mean?" Jungwoo asks incoherently, confusion fills his mind but he can't see anything because you're standing in front of the spot where he saw the daisy before.

His lips part slightly to speak but nothing comes out, he swore he saw the daisy here before you were here, and the time when you didn't show up at all as well. There was only one flower so how would he be mistaken so much? His breathing is stuck in his throat from the bundle of nerves that block the way.

With heavy - almost plumbum-feeling - feet he drags himself under your safe haven and his birth tree. Just like all the times before this one, he feels a sense of warmth engulfing him like the tree is holding protective branches around his body and above his head.

His feet come to a halt right next to you, like an anchor sinking to the depths of the sea, he stranded to this particular spot and isn't able to move another step. He moves his head to the right slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the green grass that should surround the white flower. "The daisy," Jungwoo exclaims in a whisper as there are no white petals of which the colour deviates with the green of the grass.

Geen madeliefje

"y/n," Jungwoo starts anxiously as he placed his hand on your shoulder, the grip barely non-existent as the happiness from before is replaced with a heap of other mixed feelings. He feels sad for you, he truly does, on the other hand, he can't help but feel blank and empty now that there is no flower that grants your wish to find your soulmate.

Your lower lip nearly trembles as you hold it back from parting to yell at the world, yell at Jungwoo for once again saying he saw a daisy while there is no daisy waiting for you. It bothers you more how his warm and comforting hand is placed upon your shoulder.

"Jungwoo," you repeat his name as he said yours, the difference is found in the tone: whereas he sounded anxious, you sound broken. It's a symbolical thing but Jungwoo can almost hear your heart breaking in pieces when you say his name like that, even though, your heart would never react in any form or shape when saying his name.

Your body turns to him, causing his hand to limply drop to where it is supposed to be next to his body. Your eyes are closed but you find the courage to slowly open them to look at Jungwoo, you hope disappointment isn't the blinding emotion in them because you try to keep it hidden.

"It's okay, thank you for trying," You say in a soft tone, curving your lips into a smile but the corners stay as tight at they are now, not even moving the tiniest inch because you keep them in tone. "I'm sorry, I really thought I saw a daisy here," Jungwoo noiselessly admits, his eyes non-stop going between you and the spot where he saw the flower blooming.

You look at him to meet his eyes, knowing you can believe him when he says that, and you want him to know that you believe him but at the same time that you're disappointed in yourself for allowing the situation to get out of hand. The brown eyes seem familiar, a little too familiar as you swear you've been staring into them every time you close your eyes.

Jungwoo tilts his head as you look into his eyes, confused by the sudden change in your non-verbal attitude even though he unknowingly feels the same emotions as you do. The more you stare at him, the further his head tilts as he continues to gaze back.

Something as tiny as a snowflake appears in front of your visions, Jungwoo sees it as it dwindles down in front of your eyes, you can see it peacefully falling from his hair and onto his grey trenchcoat. Your eyes want to shift to the sky but you're stopped by the colour contrast going on in Jungwoo's hair.

White petals elegantly rest on the black strands of hair and a single minuscule daisy is trapped between the locks of his bangs. The white petals contrast against his black hair and the yellow-coloured disk makes the look wholesome. Disbelief spreads through your body, causing your eyes to widen as you try to make sense of the situation.

"There is a daisy in your hair, Jungwoo," you whisper nervously as your fingertip points towards the non-artificial flower in his hair. The sight makes your heart beat faster: a nearly adoring feeling spreading from your heart into your tiniest bloodstream.

You're standing under Jungwoo's birth flower, the Daimyo oak. While you're standing there: you are looking for a daisy to find your soulmate with and Jungwoo is next to you with multiple petals in his hair and one daisy to complete the look.

"In my hair?" Jungwoo asks as he uses his hand to almost comb through his hair, causing a few of the petals to fall from his hair and onto his fabric-covered shoulders. He feels the softness of the petals under his fingertips and can almost feel his quickened heartbeat in the tips of his fingers with each touch he leaves onto the petals.

You don't have to conclude, it's premade and there's only one possibility. Jungwoo is your soulmate.

Saying the words out loud isn't something beefed, by the time the conclusion is given to you, Jungwoo already has a bright smile on his lips. Smiling like a flower receiving a bit of sunlight to grow towards, smiling like a person who just found his soulmate.

His gaze is locked with yours, staring at one another as the droplets of reality sink in. The brief silence that follows is as tender as a rainstorm of daisies.

"It's you," you whisper to break the silence, your eyes endlessly locked on your soulmate who can't help but mirror your actions because he's stunned. A smile breaks through your facial expression as the last sigh finally pushes past your lips.

The flower in your heart was blooming and you could feel the effect it had on you. The person that you had fun with and cried with, the person you motivated into searching for his soulmate. He was your object of affection.

Jungwoo slowly nods even if he is still trying to grasp the situation with both hands, his fingertips slip from reality and dip into the ecru world he unconsciously chose for when Cyan told him to choose a colour. "It's me, " he says in a soft tone, a nervous chuckle slipping from his lips as his ecru world no longer seems divergent from reality.

Under the embrace of the tree, Jungwoo reached his arms out to you and within seconds engulfed you in his arms. His arms felt warm and sincere, feeling the desperation by the strong grip he had on you.

Your eyes were closed, as were Jungwoo's, almost overly used to the vague image of one another. But the heartfelt moment keeps you in reality, the freshly-bloomed love between two soulmates.

"Their desire was silent yet magnificent, like a thousand daisies attuning their faces toward the path of the sun"

「 ᴇᴄʀᴜ # ꜰᴀꜰ0ᴇ6 」

The chorus of your alarm needlessly plays its tune to wake you up, it's only on the bedside table so you have no trouble in reaching out your arm and pressing your index finger onto anything that feels like a phone screen. It's a Sunday morning, a day of only domestic softness and time for loved ones.

"Why did you set your alarm?" You hear the voice next to you question out loud even if it only sounds like a mumble, the slight chilliness makes everything sound louder than it truly is. The sheets even produce slight sounds as Jungwoo turns his body to you, pulling your body against his until there is no space for gaps to breathe. "I have no idea," you mumble in response, your heart relaxing after being awoken by the music.

It's too late to fall into slumber again and you would rather spend your time looking at your soulmate, Kim Jungwoo. You slowly turn your body around until you're facing him and smile once you see his somewhat swollen cheeks from laying on them all night. "Stop."

You let out a small laugh at Jungwoo's simple request for you to stop staring at him, his voice makes it sound effortlessly adorable and from that, you conclude that he must be happy with the specific way of affection you're giving him. Still, you don't follow his request and stare at him for a few seconds longer: giving him your coloured eyes full of admiration and love.

"You're still doing it, flower ~" Jungwoo sings almost impossibly high, his morning voice straining his throat which results in him letting out a small cough. After giving your boyfriend a worried look, you let out a hum as you know you've been caught in the act.

"Gotta admire it before it gets plucked away"

Jungwoo scoffs in response to your words, his fingertips pressing onto your skin like it is a sign that he wouldn't get plucked away and wouldn't let you get plucked from his life either. It's a soft feeling on your warm skin, his fingertips caress protectively. "I won't get plucked away," Jungwoo says to ease your mind a bit from the worries, he can imagine the thoughts that go through your mind on this lovely Sunday morning "but you'll have to water me every day," he whispers against the shell of your ear, hoping to hear you laugh at those words.

It is not the joke that makes you laugh, it is not the dirty undertone of the words, but it is Jungwoo simply being himself that makes the smile return to your lips. Worries fade like the moon does in the sky who temporarily exchanges his position so that the sun can make flowers grow a little more towards the light.

"Was that supposed to sound as dirty as it did?" You ask him as you can finally find the laughter in his words and you seize the opportunity to make this morning a good one. Jungwoo's facial expression deadpans but it's noticeable that he's trying to bite the corners of his lips with the intention keep them on the thin verge of curving upwards. "Nope," he says, his lips pressed together but laughter breaks the non-existent glue between his bottom- and lower- lip.

"I don't believe you, look into my eyes and say again that those words were not meant to sound dirty," you request from him as you get yourself comfortable on the free space of his pillow, making it easier to look into the homely-brown pair of eyes. Which he does: his eyes travel from the exposed skin near your chest, up to your lips and into your eyes. "Those words were not supposed to sound dirty, your interpretation was wrong… but I guess you just think about sex often," he teases.

In disbelief, you playfully roll your eyes at what you've been told about yourself, by none other than your own soulmate. "You think so? I think you should go out for a walk and reflect on who has the dirtiest mind here," you suggest, using the same playfulness from when you rolled your eyes.

Jungwoo's laugh fills the room, ringing decibels louder than your alarm did before you were awake. But the sound is music to your ears: it's the perfect song, played at a loud volume that it deserves to get played on because everyone should hear his laugh. Seconds after he started, his laugh slowly dies down as his lips gaze towards your lips again.

"Maybe it's me," he admits in a serious tone as his lips copy yours unconsciously, making slow movements like yours as you part your lips to respond to his words. His serious tone doesn't make you laugh but it still sounds strangely sincere, perhaps because his mind did shift to a sexier setting once he saw your lips moving like they usually did.

Once you catch up with his newly-found interest for your lips, you also catch up with his confession of why he is the one with the dirtiest mind between the two of you. You become aware of your lips being the centre of attention and play along at the moment by biting the right corner of your lower lip. "I bet it is".

Jungwoo huffs when he realises your teases are not a coincidence, nor an accident. But he's quick-witted and pulls your body on top of his without hesitation: giving you no other option but to once again look into his brown eyes. His expression is unreadable: he doesn't look like he's playing around anymore, but the same softness is still displayed in the depths of his orbs.

He puckers his lips and pouts them upwards, getting more and more desperate until he finally reaches your soft lips with his own. The kiss that he initiates is soft for the first few seconds and he can feel your smiling lips against his out of happiness.

Soon his lips start to move against yours, the kiss getting more heated as you notice his body is yearning for certain touches and that special kind of affection. Energy and excitement mix together and spread through his limbs and even his lips get affected by it: his lips that were moving against yours slowly lower themselves in a trail filled with open-mouthed kisses. He doesn't stop until the moment he kisses the side of your exposed neck, the kisses finally arrived at the planned destination.

The soft breath you let out as reaction only makes Jungwoo press more kisses in your neck, knowing by the reaction that they make your morning a little more pleasurable. His unoccupied hands trail to your hips, keeping you still before you can even start to make slow grinding motions on top of him, his fingertips squeeze your covered skin whilst his imagination starts running wild.

"Is it not too early for this?" you ask soft as your head lulls to one side, allowing his kisses to take up more space and press on the more sensitive spots of your skin. A hum leaves Jungwoo's lips and you feel the vibrations of his hum against your throat "it's never too early for this," he whispers against your skin, placing another kiss down before he pulls away from you.

Jungwoo sits up on his knees and rids himself of his layers of nightwear: the shirt that covers his skin and the pair of sweatpants that hide the hairs on his legs. His boxers are tightly covering the crotch area and it only gets worse as he winds himself up over the thought of your body. Once he's undressed, he gapes at you as you do the same he did seconds ago. Your shirt is discarded and your shorts soon join to coat the floor with a layer of fabric.

"Look at you," he whispers as he smiles at the sight of you bare, it's not just naked, it's bare and outside of that, it's beautiful. More beautiful than watching blooming flowers in the park but he shouldn't pluck petals, he only waters them so that they grow.

After taking in the sight of your body once more, he leans down to your abdomen and runs his fingertips over every little bump of your skin, every soft little patch and every rough one too. When he reaches the waistband of your underwear, he loops his fingers through them and starts to remove them in a teasingly slow manner: first an inch on the left, then only half an inch on the right. The fabric feels smooth as it runs over your legs but it's his fingers that provide warmth.

Your underwear soon joins the little heap of discarded clothes on the floor, you opt to look at where it lands out of habit but Jungwoo pays no attention to the piece of clothing.

Unlike your previous position, Jungwoo now hovers over you instead. His lips press kisses over every spot of your skin: what you expected to be a heated moment of not-so-delicate touches ends up being a moment where his lips caress over your skin with adoration.

"I love you so much," he whispers to you, his lips pressing against your earlobe to give a tiny kiss there before his loving path continues down your body. Your response follows minutes later when his lips have almost reached the lower part of your stomach but you're simply in bliss due to these soft petal-like kisses. "I love you too," you whisper back to him, sucking in some fresh air but it results in your mouth allowing a quiet moan to slip out.

The way his soft lips press kisses against your sensitive skin makes the moment last longer, it makes you more impatient for more but you're enjoying the slow pace towards a possible love-filled morning. His lips press together on the smooth path of your inner thigh: giving both sides an equal amount of kisses but teasingly kisses towards your sensitive areas more.

"I want to make love to you," Jungwoo mumbles against your smooth skin, his warm breathing reflecting on his cheeks that start to feel slightly damp but he doesn't care. "Can I?"

Luckily he looks up at you when he's asking the question, he sees you nod almost right after he says the words. A smile changes his current appearance and he looks even softer than he did a few minutes ago, you wonder how it's even possible that he looks even more soft and loving.

"Yes?" he asks as you don't reply to his words by actually saying something, even if he is content with the nod, he still wants to hear your voice and have your consent. "Yes," you breathe out, repeating his words without the questioning hue.

He sits up slightly, straightening his back as he is admiring you for a few seconds. His impatient hand runs over the many spots that have been touched by his lips before, it's a teasing trail full of little twists and minimal touches that leave you wanting more. His index finger reaches the most anticipated spot once his trail has been hiked.

"Sex is the seed and love is the flower"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jungwoo hides your hand together with his in the sleeves of his trenchcoat, even though the warmth is provided by the sun, you feel more warmth from his - unnecessary - gesture.

The colour palette that is used to create the scenery of the park comes into view, and you can't help but smile as if you're seeing it for the first time in your life. It's like an ancient painting in a museum, you have seen it on the internet but never in real life, but in reality, it's just been long enough for you to forget the many shades of nature.

Almost six months ago, this would have looked like the stereotypical scenery but minds change, and views change too. From afar you can see the green grass and some white collectables of which you know that they are daisies, they fill the grass like butterflies fill your stomach each time you look at Jungwoo.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Jungwoo asks as he notices the smile on your lips and the way your eyes are trying to catch a glimpse of the park that suddenly isn't as far away anymore. He knows why you smile, but he still asks because he is delighted to hear the story being told from scratch. The story is the book his soulmate picked out for him and his heart willingly read every page.

"Because the park," you respond to him as your eyes shortly move to him but you don't want to lose sight of the real-life painting in front of you, you don't want it to get plucked away. Jungwoo looks away from you to look at the same piece of art, getting lost in the familiarity that sparks a collectibles in his mind.  

The world seems strangely different, the painting seems strangely different despite its familiar setting. The only thing that stays the same is the love between you and Jungwoo as you walk hand-in-hand towards the park. It's only a few seconds away, ten to be exact, nine if you pick up the pace a bit.

Jungwoo's feet halt before he's about to step on the grass field, not because it's something not everyone appreciates, but because his eyes observe why the world seems strangely different. You don't seem to notice yet, your sight is blinded by the colour ecru and you're not aware that the effect might wear off soon.

"y/n"

Your attention goes to your boyfriend again, the scenery that you've been vaguely looking at is replaced by the sight of two very surprised eyes. You hum in response as you continue to look at him, not questioning his look until he mentions it himself, which you're positive of that he will.

"W-where's the oak?" He asks as he looks at you before his eyes drift back to the missing piece of nature in the center of the park, he can see the tree in his imagination but notices its absence when he dips into the river of real life. He thickly swallows even though his throat is waterless.

Your head moves a few degrees to the right as you can only look at your boyfriend, "huh," you ask him as you eye him with your confused orbs.

"The oak," Jungwoo says in a more steady tone even though he has to keep himself steady, for some reason his long legs seem ready to give out any second. His hand untangles itself from yours to point towards the place where he met his soulmate, under a tree that was no longer there, but he was, and you were too.

Your eyes follow his fingertip until you can't see his finger in your eye-width anymore. The greenery of the park doesn't state it but your eyes officially discover the absence of the familiar oak: Jungwoo's birth tree, the tree where you found your soulmate under, the tree where daisies dwindled upon your shoulders once Jungwoo leaned towards you to hold you for the first time.

The memories are close in your embrace but you're no longer held by the tree that made all of those memories possible.  You lower your head, noticing the vague image of little daisies that are spread out all over the field, endlessly gracing every few inches with their appearance.

"Did it get plucked away?" Jungwoo asks soft as his voice almost stops cooperating, he's filled with confusion and emotions, his mind going over at least ninety-nine scenarios and he loses you in every single one of them. His hand is close to yours and he takes the opportunity to hold you tight before - just like the four daisies, and the oak - you get plucked away.

From the uninhabited space in the park, your eyes go to the movements on the little pathway of the park. A pair of unsteady footsteps shuffle over the stone-filled ground but they come to an abrupt stop when she bumps into a young man: as she stumbles back a notch, a smile coats her lips. As the young man helps her by placing his hand on her upper arm, you can see the bright colour of her eyes. Cyan, that's the exact term to the colour of her intoxicating eyes.

"Pick a colour," you read the words that fall from her lips and you can't help but mouth them in relay one second after she does. It's a familiar phrase and you even taste the remains of the colour you picked on your lips: it's a soft shade with a not-so-matching name.

Ecru.

The word effortlessly brings a smile to your lips: it's the colour of your soul and the colour of Jungwoo's love for you. Ecru: ecru was the colour of your world, ecru was atmosphere, ecru was the little steps on your path, ecru were tears when the path was unreadable. Ecru was and is magic.

"I don't think it did," you finally respond to Jungwoo has been looking at you until the answer fell from your lips. Your lips press a small peck onto his to ease his nerves. "We just planted the seed elsewhere, and it's blooming right now."

A U T H O R S N O T E / I N S P O 

hello, little daisies. With this, you must have reached the end of “colourized ecru,” it’s been an honor writing this. I know it’s not the best writing, not the best fic, or anything but I feel happy that I was able to finish this. For the longest time I put off writing this, even to the point where I wanted to tell the other writers that I wasn’t going to go through with the collab. But I did start writing and neatly finished the fic the day before it’s due. Thank you for reading, thank you for existing 

Inspo [music] - winner, remember ; d.o, that’s okay ; yesung, here i am ; yesung, paper umbrella (jungwoo acts in this mv if you didn’t know) ;  lee taeil ; one man (cover and yes I love taeil y’all know) ;  . . .

love, ambrosia aka moondustaeil  🌼

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

obnoxious truck horn noises

FIC UPDATE! COME SEE WHAT THE TEENS ARE GETTIN' INTO TODAY

This is the latest chapter of my long and unwieldy beetlejuice au. Start here to understand all the pointless call backs to my own work that I put in mostly just for myself. This is found family au, and features Beetlejuice being Lydia's big brother and if you like that idea I think you'll end up having a pretty okay time

Really, in his opinion, today has been one of the most fun he’s had in ages. It’s probably because he’s a being of chaos, and it’s been a little too quiet and wholesome around here, lately. Sexy and Babs aren’t exactly thrilled with the turn their day has taken, but man, he treasures it.

Their group punishment is banishment from the library, which he wouldn’t care about, except Adam actually seems devastated. BJ specifically is relegated to picking up trash on his lunch break the next two weeks, and he’s already plotting ways to get around it. But the actual worst thing to happen is after the meeting, when both Adam and Barbara’s parents tell him, very angrily, to stay the hell away from their kids. He makes the choice then that he’s going to get even closer to them, out of spite.

They all have to go shuffling back to class, because it’s still the middle of the day, and he’s worried, for a moment, that his two friends are mad at him, but then they both glance back at him, at nearly the same time. Barbara winks at him, and Adam, holy shit, Adam fucking blows him a kiss, and, sincere or not, and he pulls his hood over his hair because he knows for a fact he’s going pink. He gives them a pathetic waive back. They can be downright flirty, when they feel like it.

Emily pauses beside him. “Should I come to your audition after school?” She asks, and he glances up at her, amber eyes shining from the darkness of his hood. “Sure, but don’t expect nothin’. Probably won’t even get th’ part.” She kisses his head, through the hood. “I doubt that.”

One more gentle pinch to his nose, and Emily takes off down the hall, and he takes himself to class.

There’s a little bit of chatter as he enters the classroom, and he feels an unusual amount of eyes on him, all the breathers seemingly watching him, as he slides into his seat in the back. It’s confusing, and a little worrying, because while he’s been getting more attention, lately, it’s really only been from the drama kids, and Adam and Barbara. He’s not sure what this is about, until one of the girls in front of him turns to face him. He’s shocked, because he can’t remember ever seeing another angle of her, other than the back of her head.

“Did you and Adam really get into a fist fight in the library?” she asks, and from the way the entire classroom goes quiet, they’re all apparently waiting to hear what he’s got to say. He finally pulls his hood off his head, trusting the color has gone back to normal, and stares at her. “What th’ fuck’re you talkin’ about?” He squints, like she’s the weird one, even though, one hundred and ten percent of the time, he’s the weirdest thing in any building he’s ever been in.

“You and Adam got in a fist fight over Barbara,” another kid, to his left, chimes in. “Over Babs?” “You got in a fight, and knocked a bunch of stuff over?”

This seems to be his peers' way of quantifying his weird ass, “kind of something kind of not sure what that something is” relationship with his two friends. Someone there had heard fighting, or at least the sounds of all the books going flying, and had seen them led out, and cobbled together this bullshit.

He grins.

“You got it all wrong,” he says, and for once, all the attention is on him. “Me an’ Adam fist fought th' vice principal.” The bullshit lie he weaves is way more interesting than some love triangle, and it makes the three of them sound very cool, very sexy, very rebellious. He can tell a few of them aren’t buying it, but to be honest, he talks so little that he’s never really lied to these kids, and they have no clue what his personality is like. They’re not sure if they can believe a word out of his mouth, or not. Obviously, they can’t, but he’s grinning and laughing by the end, and a few of them are shaking their heads, but smiling. This is something, something good, even if it won’t last, because for five minutes before class starts, he’s not the weird, lonely kid in the back. He’s just a kid.

The audition doesn’t go nearly as bad as he’s anticipating. Adam had predicted right, there are only a few non club kids there, and the looks on their faces tells him they had no clue he would be here, and are already rethinking their decisions to try and participate. That’s right, losers, he thinks, sending each of them his best slasher smile, in turn. My club now.

Barbara and Adam aren’t officially going out for any parts, seemingly happy to be a part of the ensemble, which makes sense… they’re not really all that interested in the limelight, they want to stand in support. That’s so them, he thinks, smiling and clapping in turn, as each of them give a sample of their singing, mostly a formality. Adam was right, though, Babs can really hit that high note. When his name is called, he feels his gut clench, and thinks he might experience vomiting for the second time in his life, but as he stands up on stage, looking out in the auditorium, he catches sight of Emily, sitting way in the back. She’s laser focused on him. He makes a face at her, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue, ignoring the confusion of the other drama members, and Emily, his mother, his lifeline, from across the rows of seats, returns it.

So he sings.

His voice is scratchy, but that’s what they want, they think it sounds villainous. They're more right than they know. Turns out not needing to breathe really works in your favor with singing, because he can take a huge breath of air and use it all, not needing to hack and sputter or pause for oxygen, but despite not needing to breathe, when he finishes, and stands there, he still feels somehow breathless. It’s more of a metaphor than anything else, but it’s still there. Maybe this is what passion feels like, he thinks, and then takes a little bow, as even the non drama kids clap, because he fucking nailed it.

They’re going to hang up a sheet later, announcing who got what part, but Adam insists he’s a shoe in for this dentist role. “Guess I should actually learn what this play’s about now, huh?” He says, and both his friends give him looks like he’s insane. “There’s a movie.. I think it’s right up your alley,” Babs tells him. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen Little Shop! It’s a cult classic, and it’s got murder, and stuff,” Adam tells him. “Oh, well, why didn’t anyone say so?” There’s a natural lull in the conversation. The three of them are sitting on the edge of the stage with their feet hanging off, himself in the middle, where he prefers to be. He feels Barbara’s arms snake around his own, until she’s got him pressed tight against her, and she rests her head on his shoulder again, like she had in the hallway. Adam takes his hand, and rubs the pad of his thumb over a well earned ukulele inflicted callous. God, Satan, who or whatever, he’s never felt more comfortable.

Adam clears his throat, like he’s mustering up some courage, and then says, “So. Should we.. talk about.. This?” And he gestures to the three of them. “Do we need to?” BJ asks. “It feels nice. Can’t it just be that?” “But.. don’t we need ground rules?” Barbara asks, barely lifting her head from his warm shoulder. “Because this is feeling like something. It is something, right?” Both boys nod in agreement. Certainly feels like something, to him. Something big.

“We could make a list!” Adam enthuses, suddenly, and BJ groans. “It’s absolutely revoltin' how excited you get over your lists and organization. It’s a fetish, isn’t it? It’s a sexual fetish.” “It’s a good idea,” Barbara gently flicks at his ear. “If this is… anything, we should all be on the same page, right? Know what to expect out of each other? Have boundaries?” “You two can do whatever you want to me,” he says with a smile, and it’s not even a joke. “Ravish me. Run me through. Just don’t leave me.” It gets more vulnerable at the end than he means it to. “I think you need to set higher standards for yourself,” is what Adam says, and all he can do is respond lamely, “I’ll hire your standards, Sexy.”

They have to break apart, and stand, because Adam and Barb’s parents will be here soon, and besides, he knows Emily is waiting patiently outside the auditorium for him. But he lifts Adam’s hand to his lips, finally gives him that little kiss they missed out on earlier. Adam goes a very sweet shade of pink, and then looks to Barbara. “His stubble is scratchy,” he confirms, and she takes Adam’s hand from BJ, and kisses it, too. “There. All better.”

The two of them slip their hands into his as they make their way down from the stage, to the auditorium door, and he catches himself starting to float, because he feels light and airy and enamored. He forces his boots back to the ground, tries to remind his body that it needs to respect gravity, and he gives both their hands a squeeze, as they step out from the darkened hall into the light of the outside, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are. Despite his heart still as death in his chest, he’s never felt more alive. this isn't even the whole chapter! There's way, waaaaay more for this update, over HERE on Ao3!

[fanmoose12]

a little fic i’ve written based on this. Enjoy!

“Erwin!” Mike burst into his office, looking unusually pleased. “You would never guess what I just witnessed!”

“Hange and Levi making out in a corridor?” Erwin replied without raising his head from the paperwork.

Mike’s jaw dropped. How did he—? Could Erwin read minds now too? “How did you guess?” Mike dejectedly asked.

As he finally looked up, Erwin wore a smug grin on his usually serious face. “I’ve seen them too. Several times actually.”

“Huh? And you didn’t think to tell me? I thought we were friends, Erwin!”

Erwin shrugged. “I thought you knew. With your nose, I was sure you couldn’t miss this new development.”

Mike made a face. “You know I try not to smell Hange. Remember that time when I sniffed her hair and got an allergy for a whole week?” Mike shuddered at the memory, but then a huge grin appeared on his face. “Hey, do you think they’re trying to be secretive about this?”

“I’m sure of it. Have you noticed that Levi stopped sitting next to Hange during meetings?”

“And they don’t eat together anymore.” Mike nodded. “I thought they were fighting or something… But they are just trying to hide their relationship? Should we tell them we found out?”

Erwin didn’t answer for a long moment, staring into distance and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Hey Mike,” he finally called. “Want to start a bet?”

Mike shook his head. “You and your obsession with gambling.”

“Do you accept or not?”

“Who are you taking me for? Of course, I accept! What are we betting on?”

“On how long Levi and Hange will continue to keep their relationship in secret.”

“Two weeks.” Mike stated undoubtedly. “Two weeks and the whole Survey Corps will know that they’re fucking.”

“Aha,” Erwin smiled enigmatically. “But the bet isn’t about that. It’s not about when everyone else will find out. It’s about when Hange and Levi will realize that everyone knows.”

“In that case…” Mike trailed off, thinking. “In that case, two months.”

Erwin hummed. “I’d say it will take them a year. At the very least.”

“The one who loses buys the best booze from MPs?”

Erwin smirked, shaking Mike’s hand. “Deal.”

***

To his shame, when Moblit saw them for the first time, he had completely misinterpreted the situation. He saw Captain Levi bent over Squad Leader Hange, and only one thought came to his mind: Captain Levi finally snapped. She managed to push him to the edge. And now Captain was trying to kill Hange-san with his bare hands.

In his defense, the lab was as dimly lit as always, with only a few candles illuminating the large room. Besides, all Moblit could see was Captain’s wide back. And the quiet groans coming from Squad Leader Hange only further proved Moblit’s guess.

He almost made a move, almost took a step closer, determined to at least try to save his beloved superior. Sure, Captain Levi was abnormally strong, and Moblit honestly didn’t have a chance in a fight against him, but he couldn’t just abandon his Squad Leader, right?

Moblit had already raised his leg, when he heard it, loud and clear.

“Oh, Levi, y-yes, exactly there…”

Moblit froze in place, with his leg still raised in the air. His cheeks reddened instantly, and he closed his eyes, trying to drawn out all the noises. Now everything was beginning to make sense.

Captain Levi wasn’t trying to kill his Squad Leader, oh no, he was trying… he was doing… Moblit closed his eyes tighter, trying not to think about what exactly his two superiors were doing right now. Instead he focused on planning what should he do next.

Obviously he had to leave, and leave quickly. As much as he cherished and respected his Squad Leader, he had no desire to know anything about her personal life. With Captain Levi, of all people. But Moblit also had to be extra careful. One wrong move, and they would hear him. Captain Levi would hear him.

Yeah, Moblit definitely wasn’t looking forward to that.

He slowly and very, very carefully took a step back. And then another one. And another one, until his back had hit the door. His hand tentatively touched the handle and turned it, mindful to make as little sound as possible. A second later, and the door was opened, and Moblit was almost saved.

Although, as it turned out he didn’t have to worry so much. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange seemed too focused on whatever they were doing to notice him.

As he finally exited the lab, Moblit breathed the sigh of relief. He needed to get drunk right fucking now. He had to get this image out of his mind.

If only he had known then that it was the first but definitely not his last time seeing Captain and his Squad Leader together.

***

Petra always admired her Captain. From the moment she had set her eyes on his not so tall, but definitely proud figure, her heart was filled with immense loyalty and adoration for this man. He wasn’t only strong and fearless, but he was kind and considerate too. Maybe, he didn’t show it, but Captain cared about other people and his fellow soldiers. And sometimes, Petra felt like Captain was paying extra attention to her, like he was especially kind and caring with her. It was probably wishful thinking, but Petra liked to think that she was special for Captain. Not just another one of his subordinates, not just another member of Survey Corps, but someone who he could talk with and open up to. Someone he trusted and someone he cared about.

That’s why Petra didn’t like the rumors about her Captain and Squad Leader Hange. Of course, as so many others she also noticed that something was going on between them. There was something weird in their interactions. Something unspoken, but almost palpable. And as hard as she tried to ignore it, Petra couldn’t deny that Captain Levi was different around Squad Leader Hange. He was less guarded, more open. As Petra watched him during one of his many banters with Squad Leader, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Captain’s eyes were almost shining as he gazed at the bespectacled scientist.

But still, Petra was just a girl. Even if she was a strong soldier and one of the most prominent fighters in the whole Survey Corps, deep inside her still lived a gentle soul, filled with hope and desire for love. And so she hoped against all odds that one day Captain would finally see her and realize his feelings for her.

Petra was slowly making her way through the dark corridors of Survey Corps’ headquarters. It was almost midnight, and most soldiers had already retrieved to their beds, but Petra knew that one person was still awake. Captain Levi’s insomnia was a known fact amongst the scouts, as almost everyone at least once saw him up at night, working in his office or drinking tea in the mass hall.

And so Petra decided to surprise Captain with a cup of tea. She bought it specifically for him during her last trip to town, and Petra hoped that its exquisite taste would lift Captain’s spirits. Maybe, he would even grace her with that rare, but pretty smile of his.

Petra speeded up, eager to get to Captain’s room. She smiled as she turned the corner and saw that the light was still coming from his room. Petra took a deep breath, gripping the tray with tea tighter in her hands.

She was almost by Captain’s door, when she heard a voice coming out of it.

“Levi, c’mon!” Petra immediately recognized Squad Leader Hange’s deep voice. The corners of her mouth slid down. What was she doing so late at night? And in Captain’s room?  “You can’t just ignore me, I’ve finished my work earlier, so we could spend more time together!”

“I’m busy.”

“Leeeevi!” Hange whined. “Are you still angry with me?”

Huh? Did Captain and Squad Leader Hange have a fight? Curious, Petra took a step closer. There was a small crack in the door, and through it she could see what was going on inside the room. Captain was at his desk, probably writing a report, while Hange leaned on his chair.

“You threw me out.” Captain replied. It was obvious that he tried to make his voice sound neutral, but Petra could hear that his words were tainted with anger.

“I was in a middle of an important experiment!” Hange threw her hands in the air. “I couldn’t let you distract me!”

“You. Threw. Me. Out.” Captain repeated, turning his head to glare at Squad Leader.

“But Levi! I came here today, didn’t I? And I apologized!”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, I’m apologizing now.”

Squad Leader moved from her place and only Petra’s quick reflexes saved her from gasping out loud. Because Squad Leader Hange got to her feet and then sat down. Right at Captain Levi’s lap. With wide, shocked eyes Petra watched how she casually circled her hands around his neck.

“I’m really, really sorry for throwing you out, my dear, beloved Levi.” Hange punctuated her words with a kiss. “Is your heart kind enough to forgive me?”

“You’re so full of shit.” Captain replied gruffly, his hands coming to wrap themselves around Squad Leader’s back. “Fine, I can finish this work tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Hange exclaimed, leaning in to give Levi another kiss. She yelped in surprise, when Levi got up, still holding her in his hands. Her legs circled Levi’s waist, and Petra closed her eyes, taking a swift step back.

She had seen more than enough.

She turned around, making her way back to her room. As she walked through the dark corridors, Petra realized that she didn’t feel as sad as she probably should be. Seeing Captain and Squad Leader made her realize that she wasn’t in love with Captain Levi himself, but with an idea of him. She dreamed about someone who would be strong enough to protect her, but wasn’t Petra already strong? Maybe, she didn’t need someone to protect her, maybe, all she needed was someone, who would be holding her hand and fighting alongside her, not hiding her behind their back.

Besides, it seemed like Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange really made each other happy, and Petra was happy for them. In their world, cruel and dangerous as it was, it was vital to cherish every moment with your loved ones.

And Petra was happy that Captain Levi managed to find a person like that. Someone, who cared about him and listened to him. Someone who was always there for him.

In the end, she was really happy that Captain fell in love with someone. Even if it wasn’t with her.

***

When he first joined Survey Corps, Jean preferred to ignore all the rumors about Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange. Of course, it was funny to gossip about them during breakfasts, but Jean didn’t dare to joke about it in the presence of Captain Levi. Besides, it was hard to imagine Captain and Squad Leader together.

When he was still just a recruit and before he got to know Captain and Squad Leader Hange, Jean couldn’t understand the roots of those rumors. Both Captain and Hange-san seemed completely foreign to the concept of love and affection. Captain was always so serious, and his hard eyes always made Jean shudder. And Squad Leader Hange seemed too invested in her work and research to notice anyone who was shorter than four meter.

But as the time went by and Jean survived one disaster after another alongside two veterans, he started to realize that he was wrong. Captain Levi, as scary as he appeared, was actually a very kind man. Sure, he frequently kicked Jean’s ass and made him work harder that Jean ever thought he was capable to, but he did it, because he cared, because he wanted Jean to become stronger, because he wanted to do everything in his power to ensure his survival.

And Hange-san was the biggest weirdo Jean had ever seen, there was no denying it. However, she wasn’t crazy or heartless as some soldiers claimed. She was actually kind of nice, and sometimes she even reminded Jean of his mother. Not that she was as annoyingly over-bearing as Jean’s mom, but her gentle smile and kind eyes frequently made Jean think of his family and home.

When she quietly asked him if he was tired, or when she brought tea for him, or when she ordered him to take a day-off, noticing the dark circles that started to appear under his eyes, Jean couldn’t help the wave of fondness and affection that settled over him as he gazed in Commander Hange’s eyes.

And, of course, as he got to know Commander Hange and Captain Levi, Jean couldn’t ignore the signs of their undeniably strong bond. He noticed the shared jokes and gentle teasing, the small, but fond glances and the not so discreet touching of each other’s hands. There was no denying that Captain and Commander cared for each other more deeply than they showed.

And really, Jean would have been very happy if it all stayed that way. If everything he knew about his superiors’ relationship ended with them holding hands beneath the table. But, unfortunately, life wasn’t as kind to Jean as he had hoped.

When he saw them for the first time during his training in a forest, Jean was terrified. He saw Captain Levi pressing Commander Hange against one of the trees, holding her tightly and kissing her passionately, and not a single joke or jab appeared in his mind. He felt nothing but panic.

One wrong move, and Jean was sure that Captain would see him. Sure, Commander Hange would probably just laugh it all off, but Jean wasn’t too keen on spending his entire week, cleaning the dirtiest toilets in the Survey Corps’ headquarters.

One time was more than enough.

So he slowly backed up, trying to make as little noise as possible. He knew he couldn’t use his ODM-gear, afraid that it would be too loud in the quiet forest. So Jean carefully climbed down from a tree and headed back to the barracks, trying to put this incident out of his mind.

And maybe, he would have forgotten about this, but once he saw Commander Hange and Captain once, he couldn’t stop catching them in the most unexpected places. He’d go to a library to find himself a book, and Commander would be there with Captain Levi sprawled beneath her. He’d decide to clean his horse, and in the stables he would happen upon his two superiors, passionately making out on a stack of hay. He’d go to the town to visit his mother, and on his way back to the headquarters he would see Captain and Commander, dressed in their civilian attire and kissing on the bench in the park.

This was honestly getting ridiculous, and what baffled Jean the most was the fact that Captain Levi and their highly intelligent and observant Commander were confident that their relationship was a complete secret to the others. They acted surprised and embarrassed when someone walked up on them, and their ridiculous excuses became a running joke amongst Jean’s friends from 104th.

Jean honestly had half a mind to tell them the truth. To tell them that they didn’t fool anyone, and that they didn’t need to fool anyone. Not a single soul in the Survey Corps gave a fuck about their relationship, they were actually happy for them. Jean and his squad were especially happy for them. Sometimes they even joked about Commander and Captain being the mom and dad of Survey Corps, as they so often acted like their parents.

But in the end, it wasn’t any of Jean’s business. If they wanted to keep it a secret, they surely had a valid reason for that. Or maybe, they didn’t, and both Captain and Commander Hange just weren’t comfortable in sharing the details of their personal lives. Whatever the case, they were adults and Jean’s superiors, so he could do nothing, but respect and tolerate their relationship.

Jean cursed, as he walked up to Commander Hange’s office and saw Connie leaning on the wall next to the door.

“I take it Captain Levi is already inside?”

Connie’s cheeks flamed and he made an expression that was half-horrified, half-disgusted. “For fuck’s sake, Jean!” he whispered with wide eyes. “You can’t just say things like that!”

As he understood what Connie had implied, Jean’s face reddened as well. “I didn’t mean it like that!” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice devoid of embarrassment. “I meant to ask if Captain is inside Commander’s office, and not inside… ins—” he paused, spluttering and blushing a deeper shade of red.

Connie burst out laughing. “Man, you should have seen your face!” he patted Jean’s shoulder. “It was hilarious! Oh, Sasha should have been here to see it!”

“Shut up!” Jean hissed, turning his face away. It was still as red as a tomato. “It was you have misunderstood me in the first place!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connie smirked. “We all know that you’re a pervert, Jean, don’t try to deny it.”

“Whatever.” Jean muttered, still avoiding Connie’s eyes and gripping the papers in his hands tighter. “Anyway, how long have you been standing there?”

Connie shrugged. “Almost half an hour. So get in line, Mikasa’s also waiting, she needs to talk with Captain Levi.”

“I just need Hange-san to sign some papers for me.”

“And I need to get a provision list from her, so like I said. Get in line.”

Jean sighed, leaning on the wall next to Connie. They stood in silence for some time, before the peace was interrupted by a long and loud moan. Both Jean and Connie winced.

“I hope they’ll finish soon,” Jean mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, it’s a little impressive, don’t you think?” Connie nudged him in the side. “Not that Captain or Commander are old, but, well, they’re not young, right? And here we are waiting for them to finish for almost an hour.”

“Connie.” Jean pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained. “I’m begging you – shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying,” Connie raised his hands in a placating gesture. “They have great stamina.”

Jean groaned. “Please, can we stop talking about sex between Captain and Hange-san? I really don’t want to think about it.”

Connie opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted when the door to Commander’s office opened, and Captain Levi walked out.

His cheeks were the faintest shade of red, and his expression was unusually relaxed. There was even a hint of a smile on his lips. “Jean, Connie.” He nodded to them.

“Captain!” Connie saluted, while Jean poked his head inside Hange-san’s room. She was sitting at her table, her hair even messier than usual. There was a wide grin on her face and she was quietly humming while shifting through papers on her desk.

And suddenly, Jean felt a surge of bravery run through him. He looked down on Captain Levi, his lips curving into a smirk. “Captain, did you and Commander have another one of your strategic meetings?”

“Of course,” Levi grumbled, raising the collar of his shirt higher. Jean exchanged a look with Connie, as both of them saw a small hickey on Captain’s neck. “If you have any business with Commander, do it quickly. She had a long day and she needs to rest.”

“Strategic meetings are so tiring?” Jean barely held in a laugh, as he saw that Captain’s cheeks became red again. He muttered something intelligible before swiftly walking away.

Jean and Connie waited for him to disappear behind the corner before bursting out laughing.

“Man, how haven’t they noticed that everyone knows about them?” Connie asked between his laughs.

“Noticed what?”

Both Jean and Connie whirled around, their eyes widening and face paling.

“H-hange-san?” Jean asked shakily.

“C’mon, guys!” Hange smiled brilliantly at them. “Tell me what was so funny! You know I like a good laugh!”

“Ehh,” Connie scratched the back of his neck, desperately trying to avoid Commander’s gaze. “Sasha and Niccolo, that Marleyan guy, well, they, um, confessed to each other!”

To Jean’s knowledge, they didn’t. He wasn’t sure if Sasha even knew about Niccolo’s feelings, but it wasn’t a bad excuse. Maybe, Hange-san would even believe them.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Hange clasped her hands in delight. “I’m very happy for them. In our world, it’s important to find someone to love.” She extended her hands and ruffled Jean and Connie’s hair. “You should find yourself someone, too, boys.”

“Have you found yourself someone like that, Hange-san?” Jean asked, eyeing her carefully.

“Of course,” She agreed instantly, smiling gently. “I have you two, Sasha, Mikasa, Eren and Armin.”

“And Captain Levi?”

“And, of course, Levi,” a pretty blush appeared on Hange’s cheeks. “Where I would be without him?” She shook her head, straightening her shoulders. “Anyways, do you need something from me?”

“It can wait.” Jean waved his hand. “Take some rest, Commander. It looks like you need it.”

Hange chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “Then I guess I’ll retire for today. But if you need me, don’t hesitate to come and get me.”

“Of course, Commander.” Connie saluted. “Have a nice evening.”

She looked at Jean and Connie fondly, patting their shoulders. “Thank you, boys. You should rest as well. Gather all your friends and visit town or something. Have some fun. You deserve it.”

Connie and Jean nodded with a smile, and Hange bid them farewell, closing the door to her office and heading towards her room.

When Hange reached the end of a corridor, she was joined by Captain Levi. He looked around, checking if anyone was around, and then wrapped his hands around her shoulders. Commander Hange leaned on him and together they walked away.

Jean sighed, as he watched that scene. Suddenly, he remembered dark eyes and beautiful black hair. He remembered a soft, rare smile that was never directed on him. Jean ran a hand through his hair. Who would have ever thought that he would be envious of his two superiors?

“C’mon,” Connie tugged at his coat. “Commander Hange gave us a permission to go to town. Let’s use it to get drunk at the tavern.” Connie smirked, hugging Jean’s shoulder. “Maybe we’ll find our special people there.”

And while, Jean was very doubtful that it would be true, that his heart would be able to love anyone, except her, he still let Connie drag him out to the bar. And, maybe, his friend was right, maybe, Jean would also meet someone who would love him. Who would make him just as happy as Commander Hange and Captain Levi made each other.

[morwensteelsheen]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it. 

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me. 

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters’ internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever). 

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown. 

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel. 

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again. 

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc. 

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn: 

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship — first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc). 

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.  

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely. 

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol 

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways. 

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on. 

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare. 

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life. 

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot! 

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can. 

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien. 

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc 

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him. 

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here). 

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds: 

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic. 

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident. 

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing. 

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic. 

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important. 

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture. 

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great. 

Their first impressions of one another are very important. 

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant. 

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.” 

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant. 

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her. 

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever. 

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does! 

But then there’s this line: 

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big. 

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf. 

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there. 

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense? 

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.  

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family 

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc. 

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.