#re: stroke of serendipity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lost-jams · 2 years ago

Text

Brushes And Beats chapter 13

pairing: JiminxReader

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

trope: enemies to lovers

:ever thought of the past and wished to re-do it?:

Jimin's Pov

3 years ago,

December 20th, 2020;

We were shooting the music video for my latest single, we are currently on location with snow-covered mountains and sea beneath us. The cold air nipped at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing within me whenever she was around. I must have gone truly crazy, to have my temperature rise in this cold weather whenever she was nearby.

What the hell is wrong with me? It was just an ordinary day on set, and It was pretty normal to have my makeup done by her, Why am I feeling this way?

I couldn't help but let out a sharp breath whenever I passed by her, catching a glimpse of her beauty reflected in the mirror as she focused on perfecting each stroke of makeup on someone else's face. Her presence was captivating, and I found myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the snowy landscape, mirroring the warmth that blossomed inside me whenever I caught sight of her smiling face. All of us gathered around taking in the breathtaking scenery,

In the embrace of my thoughts, my hungry gaze fell ravenously on Y/n. She was but a silhouette against the horizon, bathed in the softness of the setting sun's goodbyes. The captivating sparkle in her eyes mirrored the cosmos, outshining the stars that the coming night was slowly weaving into the azure tapestry above. I was entranced, ensnared in the mesmerizing dance of twilight in her gazed-upon irises.

Cheeks kissed by the day's frosty lullaby were painted a shy rosé, warmed by the departing sun's final ballet of light. A touch of the same color graced her nose, glowing with an innocent vibrancy that sent an unspoken invitation to join her in the intimate communion with the sun's final sonnet. She was a silhouette of perfection, adorned in the last vestiges of grand illumination the world held onto.

Each soft tendril of her hair nonchalantly brushed aside, teased a melody in the temperate breeze. The last strokes of sunlight obediently traced each curve of her features. She was ethereal, as if an angel graced the earth with her presence, whispering a sonnet to the horizon.

I felt my heartbeats playing a symphony of longing, each beat whispering her name. The simple sight of her — absorbed, resplendent, enchantingly immersed in the golden goodbye — pricked at my untouched sentiments, each a couplet of a love poem waiting to be read. This perfectly framed vista of Y/n, serenading the setting sun, unleashed a profound fervor in my chest, a feeling so powerful, it threatened to consume me entirely. Her rapture in the sunset acted as a catalyst, alchemizing my longing into a feeling I can't explain — It was something you have to experience yourself

It's a Serenity

It is Magical

It's an Epiphany

One's Serendipity

A Euphoria

It is Passion.

2 months later,

"Birdy you thinking about flying?"

"Y/n?"

"Y/n get away!!"

Seeing Y/n standing at the edge of the cliff, my heart clenched in my chest. The paleness of her face haunted me; a stark contrast to the striking landscape behind her amplified by her despair. The wind whipped through her hair as she gazed into the abyss, a testament to how she must've been feeling inside. Anger surged through my veins as I thought about the pain that was inflicted on her.

Panic surged through me as she was very close the edge of the precipice. She was looking down, silhouetted against the chilling winds, her frame unyielding yet ominously fragile. My heart pounded in my chest like a wild drum, each beat ringing with enormous fear and unsettling anger.

Fear, because the mere thought of her plummeting into the abyss was a horror I couldn't bear. Her potential brush with danger stoked a protective instinct in me, stronger than anything I'd ever known. I was paralyzed by this sudden jump of adrenaline, my breathing came ragged and uncontrolled.

And anger, not at her, never at her, but at the world that had pushed her to teeter on the edge of despair. I was filled with a rage so potent, it threatened to consume me. My stomach churned with it, my fingers clenched involuntarily into fists. How cruel could the universe be, to leave a scar on someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as Y/n? The unfairness of it all made my blood boil.

"No..." I whispered, my plea carried away by the cold wind. I forced myself to move, panic lending me speed. "Not her. Not Y/n." That moment, the image of Y/n standing lonesomely at the precipice seared into my memory, a terrible echo of my deepest fears and anguishes.

______________________________________________________________

"Your recklessness wouldn't affect just you. It also affects the people around you. But you never think about it, do you?”

"Jim-"

"Save it, Y/n"

I snapped, my frustration boiling over. My words carried a sharp sting, fueled by the fear and anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface. It was an outburst I instantly regretted, but in that moment, the weight of my emotions overwhelmed any semblance of control. As the words left my lips, a heavy silence settled between us.

As we stood there, locked in a silence filled with tension and regret, I could see the hurt flickering in Y/n's eyes. Her expression softened, a vulnerable glimmer of pain shining through. My heart sank at the sight of her wounded gaze, and guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. It had me face to face with those parts of myself that I had tried to bury, to dismiss. And what’s worse is, in that moment, I realized that my outburst stemmed from my own insecurities and fears.

That year was undeniably the longest and most grueling I'd ever experienced. Time seemed to stretch into an unending void, each day filled with silence where once laughter and conversation had occupied.

Work, which I had once loved as an exciting escape, started to feel more and more like a cumbersome chain. The pressure to continuously perform and improve felt colossal, only amplifying the deafening quietness in my personal life. Every performance, every firm handshake, and smile gradually became harder to produce, the echo of Y/n's absence a constant reminder of my failings.

The ceaseless demands of my career began to weigh on me, a relentless movement of days marked by hectic schedules and sleepless nights. The glamour and fame, which once exhilarated me, now felt draining. And Y/n's absence hung over me, a specter that was invisible to others, but painfully evident to me.

Regret was a constant sting, gnawing at my calm, reminding me of the words I should've said, the solace I could've offered. Y/n's face would uninvitedly creep into my thoughts, her glossy eyes shimmering with withheld emotions and hushed sighs. My heart would turn into a turbulent sea besieged by a surge of regret and self-reproof. I had let my fear, cloaked in anger, push her away.

Loneliness — my forever friend — had cast a daunting shadow over me. Surrounded by throngs of fans and yet, an unsettling hollowness prevailed, rendering me isolated in a crowd. That's when I realized the intensity of my feelings for her. Her absence wasn't just a missing friendly face; it was the missing piece of a puzzle that completed me.

The dread of losing her even as a friend, the heart-wrenching despair of not being able to help the person you care about began eating away at me. It was a painful lesson learned

in the harshest way; a year of harrowing solitude and introspection, interspersed with rigorous work demands. But within all of it, a realization hung heavily - I loved her, no I love her. And that love enveloped every strand of my being, defining the extent of my sorrow in her absence

One year passed without much interaction between us. She needed her space, and I had tight work schedules. The occasional glances we exchanged were often filled with unsaid words, and unexpressed emotions. Looking back, I should have pushed aside my professional commitments a bit more. I could have been there for her in a way that was more than just professional. I would have held her close and told her that it was okay to fall apart because she was not alone.

She never was.

to be continued...

chapter 12 || chapter 14

10 notes · View notes

p4latinus · 3 years ago

Text

୨୧⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙ red | thoma [angst fanfic]

°•. ✿ characters: thoma, kamisato ayato

°•. ✿ genre: !afab, angst fanfic

°•. ✿ tw: sfw! mildly suggestive reference, swearing

a comforting warmth deepened your embrace.

mornings were pleasant to wake up to because of the blonde-haired man, wrapping his arms around your waist. his emerald green eyes were shut as he nuzzled closer, breathing your skin. each breath was steady and calming. you couldn’t help but to tuck his hands closer into your body, tugging his arms so gently.

you felt his muffled groans tickle your nape; raising goosebumps along your skin. there was nothing better than waking up next to him for an eternity forged between two lovers with endless desire. he was your sunrise, creeping through your window with strips of a morning’s dew, welcoming you to another day filled with serendipity. he was your moon - the purest, luminescent smile that waned in your absence.

“baby, it’s time for work.” you sighed, shifting your body to face him. your thumb dragged cautiously over his cheek. you leaned, pressing sweet kisses along his face and nose. thoma’s nose crinkled as a smile stretched across his face - his charming, perfect smile. “let me see those eyes.” you requested, breaking away from a morning kiss.

his dark lashes fluttered sleep away, bordering the depth of green that lured you into an everlasting warmth. “ayato isn’t letting you have time off, right?” your fingers ran through his messy locks, gently detangling his unkempt hair. thoma nodded with a slight wince. “sorry, baby.” you whispered, stroking his face with your fingers, gliding the tips along his smooth skin.

a part of you hated how he has gradually neglected himself but you understood his duties. working for the kamisato estate meant excessively serving others on public holidays and staying overtime.

“i’m sorry i haven’t been around much.” he tightened his lips. remorse was scripted across his face. thoma kissed your lips delicately before pulling away, groaning as he realised time was ticking. “come to the estate during your break, my love, i have a surprise for you.”

you couldn’t help but to beam at his thoughtfulness, nodding your head and pressing another kiss onto his lips. lucky was an understatement - anyone to have thoma was truly blessed, and you knew that. no one could ever compare to him and everything that he has to offer. despite your luckiness to be with him, a part of you knew that something was wrong - he was unusually quiet and distant.

he didn’t want to be seen with you - almost as if he was ashamed. most of your meetings were in the komore teahouse, or in the most private rooms of the kamisato estate. perhaps, it was viewed to be unprofessional for inazuma’s best fixer to display too much affection in public. though your intuition said otherwise, you wanted to give thoma a benefit of doubt. you knew that you could always trust him no matter what.

truthfully, it did upset you that he barely paid attention to your thin, lace lingerie. you couldn’t help but to notice how distracted he was as thoma pulled his signature black shirt over his head. maybe it was foolish how you took lord kamisato’s advice to pick “red” - he had overheard that it was seductive and alluring. he knew an awful lot about intimacy and what thoma would love.

“be safe at work, baby. i love you.” you rose from the bed, sliding your arms around him. his brows furrowed as he flinched, mumbling “i love you too.”

hours had passed since thoma left for work so you kept yourself occupied by going through purchase logs at naganohara fireworks. thanks to yoimiya’s benevolence and ayaka’s recommendation, you were secured a job here months ago since your arrival in inazuma. time had always passed by quickly whenever you worked, because you knew that you would end shifts with a sweet reward - being pecked with kisses by the man you love; always escorting you home when dusk bids you a farewell.

a familiar voice spoke, it was calm, reassuring yet powerful. it was a brief moment until you realised that kamisato ayato was having a brief conversation with thoma. your heart raced at the sight of your lover - it was thrilling to see him due to the growing absence. though your intuition hindered you; forcing you to stay hidden in ryuunosuke’s storeroom as yoimiya sourced more materials.

“i am adamant about my termination, my lord. i am sorry.” thoma spoke with confidence yet his voice wavered. why didn’t he ever bring this up? thoma wanted to quit all this time? but that was unlike him. something terrible has happened but you couldn’t blame him for the instability in your relationship - there was so much distance and not enough communication. “very well thoma, since there is nothing i can do to keep you, i just hope you will confess everything to y/n l/n. i will see you later at the kamisato estate for our final discussion.”

what could possibly be a surprise at the kamisato estate during lunch? was the announcement the surprise? so he could spend more time with you? nothing really tallied up with your thoughts and thoma’s unusual patterns. clearly, there was something bothering him. intrusive thoughts began spiralling as you overthought ever behaviour and conversation.

each step leading towards the kamisato estate was heavy as you dragged your feet. 5 minutes later than usual for your lunch break but you knew that it was better than painstakingly waiting for time to go by. your back ached and arms throbbed over the boxes you had to carry from the store to the docks - wishing subtly that thoma had been there to help you. of course, you were guilty; knowing that times were hard on him. you were in no position to ask for any help, since you couldn’t offer much for him either.

“hi baby, i’m sorry i didn’t get us some lun—“

“i’m quitting my job.” thoma interrupted, gingerly taking steps towards you.

“what’s going on, baby?” you asked, extending your arms for an embrace.

“what have you been doing while i was away?” thoma questioned, intertwining his fingers with yours to push them away slowly. his voice was soft but a tint of anger flushed - you watched flames speckled in his eyes as it spread down to his cheeks. a burning desire and rage to know the truth.

“thoma, i can explain-“

“then explain.” he demanded, clenching his jaw. his chest rose and collapsed slowly, as if he steadied his breath to restrain a rummaging fire.

“i had been meeting lord ayato to discuss your work schedule. i have been trying to negotiate with him so we would have more time tog—“

“and how have you been negotiating?”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to say.” tears welled in your eyes as guilt began consuming you.

“you think i don’t know? do you think i enjoy washing your clothing, knowing that it reeks of him? every single friday, you come home later than me, intoxicated, so intoxicated, that you would barely recognise me. your lips smeared and it is the same shade of red as your garments. the exact… same garments… that he bought for you.” thoma gritted his teeth, accentuating his anger through syllables as he approached. “and you dare, sleep with me and next to me with the same red garments. he had taken these clothes off you, he has seen you naked. and you lack a heart to kiss me every morning, telling me you love me when you say that every time he fucks you.”

“then stop coming home so late. you know i hate waiting.” foolish, absolutely foolish. you were caught for every single lie you’d given him. you knew you loved thoma, but not as much as your unwavering lust and selfish desire to be pampered.

“you are so goddamn selfish, y/n.” his lips trembled as he began, “i worked overtime so that i could afford the ring you love.”

every doubt and question began falling into place. no wonder he had sought advice in lady ayaka’s opinions for flower arrangements. why thoma had always tried to bargain a little more than usual - saying it’s for a “big, secret event” for the yashiro commission. whenever he had slipped his hands into yours, while asking, “my love, do you like these? they are expensive but i’d love to get them for you one day.” it all made sense - he did everything he could to prove that he loved you more than life. however you were a selfish bitch who deserved nothing more than dirt.

“i thought you loved me thoma, but you don’t understand that i have needs too—“

with those words, he left you behind within the same 4 walls you had sought refuge in every week. you cried to yourself, knowing that you had tainted every memory with red ink that couldn’t be washed away.

it was the first night you had found yourself waking up in lord ayato’s bed.

#genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin thoma #genshin thoma angst #genshin angst fanfic #thoma x reader #thoma x reader angst #thoma fanfic #thoma genshin #thoma genshin impact #thoma angst fanfic

133 notes · View notes

saiyanqueenreads · 5 years ago

Text

Gravity Falls Stangst Fanfiction Recommendation Master List

Here are some of my favorite Stangst stories that I’ve read, re-read, and collected over the past few years. Some are old ‘classics’ while some are new or still updating. They’re listed in alphabetical order by title for easier searching.

The list will be updated periodically as I find great new stuff. Newly added stories are labeled with a ++

***Please read any tags/warnings before reading, as some of these stories may deal with upsetting topics and situations***

Short and sweet (under 10k words):

A better nightmare by eeveelotions A Better World by Metaphoricaltigers A Fortunate Stroke of Serendipity by heartfeltword a second twin by anonymous A Trip Down Memory Lane by Deanwinchestersgirl4 ...And Count To Ten by impish_nature and you are paranoid in every paragraph by mackdizzy Bacardi by twinkinu Back in Time by mythomagicallydelicious Bad Habits by carbonatedblood Bad Thoughts by Cali_brate Barely Breathing by corvidcall (anathema15) blame me when there's no one left to blame by anistarrose Bridges Burned by angellteeth Broken hearts, broken minds by Crazycatscarmen Broken Toys by logicalbookthief Butterfly Effect: Branded by TheAngelofFate Casual affection by laudanum_and_wine Casual Observations by MotherOftheUniverse Change Comes All At Once by IrenkaFeralKitty Change of Heart by LogicalBookThief Choice by FriendlyCybird Dark by EvenAtMyDarkest Deadly Omens by IconicAnemone Death of Me by DarkwoodWolf Die Schatten Werden Länger by emjam Drift Away by Rymdunge Emergency Contact by madwriter223 Ever-newer Waters by dorbee Family Meeting by Windsett Fear of the Dark by Thesnadger feels like we only go backwards by WDW Finding the Right Frequency by impish_nature Five Bells by Spaceless_Sea Ford vs His Family by detectivejigsaw give me some time, I'm living in twilight by Base12 Hate Vs. Anger by MintGreenMare He Himself by asbelow He Let Go by mythomagically-delicious Heaviness of Heart by Leesbian Hello, Nightmares, My Old Friend by artsymeeshee He's Not Dead by Koraesdoodles Hide and Seek by Crazycatscarmen Hold by MotherOftheUniverse I Imagine He'd Find it Violating by MotherOftheUniverse I Want to Come Home by Angelia Dark If it's broke, don't fix it by detectivejigsaw Illusion by anistarrose I'm So Sorry by Keleficent Imaginary Friend by Logicalbookthief Impulsive Acts by BuzzCat Incandescence by pessimisticvirtuoso Intellectual Adequacy by paperjamBipper It deepens like a costal shelf by howevernot It's Okay by Halogalopaghost (Lartovio) Just in Time by verysorrytobother Legacy by BethKerring Like Father Like (Adopted) Son by jacky-rubou ++ Limbo by emjam Long-Distance Call by LogicalBookThief Lost and Found by rubyflakes Lost on the Desert to Die by verysorrytobother Make Me Believe Again by fex_libris Maybe Spit Some Blood at the Camera (Just Say Alive) by Voidfish memory smackdown by untrustworthyglitch Mindscape and Memories by RandomNoodleDish molecules wrapped in silk by moroodors More Than Just the Spare by LogicalBookThief Necessity and Desire by mythomagicallydelicious Needing/Getting by GraboidFarmer Nightmare Town by Giroshane No by Tired TM No Brother of Mine by brook456 No Need for Tending by Cutiebat Not To Be Blamed by ambigiousgelpens Nothing's Even Wrong and it's sequel by FriendlyCybird Of Ending Summers and Endless Stars by EpitheicalPseudonym Oh Brother, My Brother by monkeyihihji On a Small Craft Somewhere Out in the Arctic by thesnadger Oneshots Collection by pessimisticvirtuoso Onyesha by ArtsyMeeShee / pessimisticvirtuoso Pet Humans by thesnadger Photographic Memory by impish_nature Pitt Cola on the Porch by Oh_Mellow Plans made and executed (Only to be foiled) by Crazycatscarmen Playing Pretend by Lizzy322 Pulling My Weight (In Gold) by Cyane putting the dog to sleep by parsnipit Quietus by optimisticvirtuoso Real Men (Don't) Cry by Nicnac Regrets by AgentPrettyGuy Remorse by RadioactiveDeLorean Salt Water in my Veins by a_solitary_marshmallow Scourge by XxDecipheringGravityFallsxX Self-Starvation by detectivejigsaw Separation Anxiety by factuals-fanfics should've just held my tongue by howevernot ++ Shut Up by eeveelotions Siren Song by mythomagically-delicious Sixer by Keleficent Smile Like You Mean It by Logicalbookthief Somehow – Someday by Callipraxia Sooner or Later by twinkinu Spill It by pessimisticvirtuoso 'Stanford' Pines by impish_nature Starving Works by PorcelanaRota Stay With Me by Keleficent Stone Cold Crazy by Alverrann Suffocating by CrownedAnxietyAttack Suffocating Part 1 & Suffocating Part 2 by saddle-up-dipper Ten Years by Runs_With_Wolves1 The Bouncer by sherlockfreak The broken pieces smile by Crazycatscarmen The Defective Twin by Elysianhyena The difference between holding and gripping by detectivejigsaw The Different Path by Bill_Cipher666 The Guttering Candlelight of a Tired Soul by 3HobbitsInATrenchcoat The past and the future by crazycatscarmen The Phoenix in the Birch Trees by anistarrose The Weird Old Man (who kinda looks like dad) by MotherOftheUniverse This Is What Dreams Are Made Of by fordanoia tie a noose around your mind by Word_Adict Tough Love by hattafan2593 Treading Water by phoenix (PrettyRedEyes) Two Sided by littleoptimistme Unless I Be Relieved By Prayer by thesnadger Untitled (sequel to Long Distance Call) by snapback-gravity-falls We Must Not Look at Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruit and its continuation Growing Up Is Optional by logicalbookthief ++ Week Two – Travel by FriendlyCybird Wherever We Go... by IncomingAlbatross Wherever We Go by AlexTWDgr01 Who We Are, Who We Want To Be by BadonKaDank Wishful Thinking by Raven Darkwood year of atonement (busywork 1) by transmascdreamxd You're Home Now by Keleficent You're (Not) My Dad by MotherOftheUniverse Your Heart's to Big For Your Body by MotherOftheUniverse

Epic Length (10k+ words):

1 Step Forward, 20 Years Back by Ppleater A Deeper Understanding by Sand_wolf579 A Man Made of Stone by RanblesandDragons A Stan's best friend by Eeveelotions A terrible case of the past by edoro ad infinitum by nicnac918 Always Something There to Remind Me by ObsessionIsMyOppression and I dream about home by invalidinthewilds And You Were Not So Old by Anonymous As Long As We're Together by PaperandInk Avarice by Haberdashing Backup Host by EnlighteningGravity Bitter Sweets and Baby Teeth by Eeveelotions Blind Faith by pinesinthewoods Blind Faith: Decent into the Bezumiye Caves by HowAboutThat Borrowed Time (sequel to Back in Time) by mythomagicallydelicious Brand of a Dreamer by impish_nature Be Good To Him by Angelia Dark Breaking Stan by detectivejigsaw by the skin of your teeth by apathetic_revenant Calendar Pages and its sequel by Hinny_B Cascading Chaos by impish_nature Cellular Memory by bgtea Changing Tides and Tribulations by Vcorrigan Cutting the Knot by Sarah1281 Dead Is Dead (a continuation of Logicalbookthief's Broken Toys) by boy-with-the-pink-hair Deja Vu by interlude the Dyslexic Stan series by Caliras Fisherman's Knot by scribefindegil Five Years Older by Nicnac Ghost of a chance by DarylStorey Goodbye Stranger by verysorrytobother hide and seek by parsnipit High School with the Pines Twins (Stan Edition) by Mother_Mortician History Affects the Future by Aaronna how proud I'd be by apathetic_revenant Infinity Falls, and its sequels by Artistic_Arteries Life Support by Lavender Cat Life's Work. Life's Worth. by RamblesandDragons Measurably Away by Neelh Never Again by Crazycatscarmen Nothing more than Feelings by detectivejigsaw One Rainy Night by detectivejigsaw per aspera by parsnipit Phobos by impish_nature Please Don't See Me by a_solitary_marshmallow Precipice by Peanut_Butter_Wizard Pyramid Scheme by illumynare Return Backwards to the Past Again 4 by detectivejigsaw Rewind by a_solitary_marshmallow Right on Time by Sarah1281 Salesman's Smile by EnlighteningGravity Shots by LogicalBookTheif Side Effects May Vary by Angelia Dark Snakes by scribefindegil Some Sunny Day by anistarrose Something by plaidventurer Somewhere in the Woods by MotherOftheUniverse Stars and Trees by jikanet_tanaka Stratosphere by Scarper_Von_Hyde Takin' Care of Business by The_Lionheart Tale of the Pines by Runs_With_Wolves1 The Talk to Me AU series by verysorrytobother The Author of the Journals, Stanley Pines by ShyEye The Adventures of a Small Gargoyle Stan Pines by RamblesandDragons The Crooked Kind by underatomicskies The Days You Didn't Mention by Anonymous_Astronaut The Light Keeper by impish_nature The Man Downstairs by GinAndShatteredDreams The People That We Always Hoped We Would Be by The_Lionheart the small part by hapful The Whole of Us (is greater than the sum of our broken pieces) by nicnac918 The Wrong Stan by detectivejigsaw This Is the End of Us I Swear by pinesbrosfalls (fangirl0430) Time Has Changed Me (And Left Me Full of Doubt) by asbelow Towards the Sun by Foil Candle Two Months and a Deal series by Fandomchild Two Old Men and the Sea by embulalia Two Worlds, One Family by detectivejigsaw What I've Been Through by EasilySpooked What's Owed by AngeliaDark Where he goes, I go by eeveelotions

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fanfic #stangst

1K notes · View notes

whataboutmyfries · 4 years ago

Text

A thousand infinities

Hello again! so this is a prompt fill for an anon who’s ask i cannot locate at the moment, but i combined two asks for this fic and WOW i had so much fun writing it :)))

bear with me here, it’s 11:40 pm where I am and I have done no proofreading for this whatsoever but I really enjoyed writing this fic and i wanted you guys to see :)

As always, thank you so so much to the magnificent @lumosinlove who gave us this amazing universe to play around with :)

Sirius black awoke to a cold bed and the night sky. He didn’t know what had woken him, but in the soft silence of the wintry night, he knew it was the absence of his husband’s quiet breathing that had tugged him out of sleep.

Sirius frowned, slipping out of bed with a soft grunt, pulling the blanket across his shoulders as he went.

“Re?” His call was loud in the dark, his sleep-rough voice bouncing off the walls. Sirius blinked valiantly against the dark, walking through the house on muscle memory alone.

“Mon Loup?” Sirius’s voice echoed off the empty area of the hall. The kitchen. The basement. Sirius’s pulse ratcheted when the door of the empty bathroom closed behind him with a muffled click, his mind jumping into overdrive at the possibility of any harm coming to his beautiful love.

It took Sirius all of two strides to get to where Remus had forgotten his phone in the window, trying to find the wallet that that had been there with it. Sirius had just spotted it lying on the floor when a movement in the window caught his eye.

There was someone skating outside. In the middle of the night. On the frozen lake in front of their house. It didn’t take an expert to know they were skilled. The sharp turns and loops the skater made a testament to their prowess. Sirius couldn’t help but watch; they looked ethereal in the moonlight; the light making the ice look like it was glowing, threading its pale, milky fingers through the soft brown curls — Sirius let out a gasp, the tension in his chest releasing in one smooth breath.

It was Remus. Skating outside. Alone. In the dark.

Sirius smiled, throwing off the blanket in lieu of Remus’s thick, red sweater; pulling on his winter coat before grabbing a scarf and his skates to join his husband out on the ice.

It didn’t take long for Sirius to get to the ice and he was on his skates even faster, his heart pounding at the idea of having his beloved in his arms again. Remus made a beautiful jump and Sirius’s breath caught. Where had he learnt to do that?

It didn’t take him long to notice the earphone cord vanishing into Remus’s pocket. God he loved this man. Sirius skated over, wrapping an arm round Remus’s waist and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Bonjour mon amour, ”

Remus startled, relaxing immediately into Sirius’ warmth.

“How did you find me?” Remus whispered, turning around to press his face into Sirius’s chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat a music like no other.

Sirius huffed a laugh, tightening his arms around his husband. “Well, you gave me half a heart attack, but I saw you through the window.”

Remus kissed Sirius’s forehead, rubbing Sirius’s back in long, slow strokes. “I’m sorry I scared you. I was coming back soon.”

Sirius pulled away, shaking his head fondly. “I don’t mind. Besides, it’s beautiful out here.”

Remus’s eyes never left Sirius’s, “yes. Yes, it is.”

Sirius pulled Remus in for a kiss, the feeling of Remus’s lips on his as wondrous and magical as the first time they’d kissed. Sirius didn’t even notice when Remus slipped one of the earbuds into his ear.

“Dance with me.” Remus breathed, resting their foreheads together in the peaceful night. Sirius smiled, simply dropping his hand to Remus’s waist, their frost breaths mingling in the cold air.

and it that heartbeat, it felt like a thousand infinities has collided and torn themselves apart to create this moment for them, this fragile, precious moment of love and peace and serendipity. Their own little universe, Sirius thought, as they danced the night away.

#lumosinlove #coops #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #remus x sirius #Sweater Weather #whataboutmywriting

124 notes · View notes

masterspetsonja · 4 years ago

Text

Bilingual

Not my work but this song/poem is amazing and definitely something that fits right with where I am right now.

… The only aphrodisiac I need is your voice Hearing you speak my name Beckoning me to answer Telling me you want me So I tell you that you're the answer to Every question I've ever had about love … Without words I use my tongue to tell the tale of us Tracing your shadowscape Kneeling before you my eyes feast upon your masculinity and All its divinity and I praise you Because all of that is for me … I begin to indulge myself of your delicacies Digesting semi-sweet dark chocolate decadence as it melts Dripping down my chin Your taste is something Godiva couldn't re-create … Needing every atom of your anatomy Necessity is placed upon me Knowing you are the source of my serendipity Dipping in and out of me stroking more than my consciesness Subconsciously I find myself rewinding our love scenes In my daydreams Seeing that face you make when you're making me cum And it makes me want you right there and then … Thinking of you in inappropriate places I get Tingling sensations in private locations Where I wish to be caught between a rock and your hard place … As wetness develops my legs begin to open And my spot turns to a backdraft and all I want you to do is extinguish it You know my body like the back of your hands And touch me and send me into ecstacy … My thighs quiver in anticipation Of deep penetration which gets me high Body rising Sweating Panting Make-up melting Pulling my hair and Scratching my back I get a temporary case of tourettes Because all I can say are four letter words In a four octave-range screaming your name … Aye papi … You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual … I see your tongue pink between your lips and I want it between mine And I struggle As you lick torturing me I try to get away but Not really … Running out of room begging for more up against the wall That has been scuffed by my stilletos Again You pry apart my thighs and tell me to be still And I willingly submit to you Because I love the way you dominate me Demanding that I cum for you so I do as I'm told … You've molded me so I'm good to no-one else but you You've conquered this once orgasmicless world and multiplied it Again and Again … My face radiates with after-glow My pillow scented by you A fragrance which haunts me My room smells of the best sex … Covered in body prints and finger prints and you above me Your name written indelibly upon my body in your genetic history … You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual

2 notes · View notes

a-lil-perspective · 5 years ago

Note

oh my god please tell me you’re writing a part 2 for the hunter request it is so beautifully written and this was my face at the end: 😦 i was so stunned i cant believe you!!!! wow you’re wicked

Why, thank you! XD Never fear, back to my innate sappiness. :) What started out as a oneshot for a specific kissing prompt has now spiraled into some series, enjoy. XD [Implied Smut?]

@shadow-hyder @obiorbenkenobi @thegoodbatch @everyonehasanindividuality @starflyer-104 @karpasia

Serendipity With A Slice Of Sergeant | Part II

▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️

Hunter...

Your heart was racing, breaths clipped and slightly ragged at the thought of the man who had just graced your lips with passion, near intimacy, yet—a fleeting kiss. A stolen moment. One that you sought compensation for.

Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three...

You recite numbers with intense concentration—the calculation of precisely one minute upon the Sergeant’s departure from your quarters before you elected to pursue after him.

Literally, and figuratively.

You restlessly paced your quarters.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven...

Too many questions, not enough answers.

Yet you were determined to receive.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty...

You quickly throw on a layered article of clothing upon the mark of digits signifying the specified passage of time before starting off with purposeful stride towards the Havoc Marauder, leaving behind the Officer’s barracks and any lingering trepidations in the shadow of your now moonlit silhouette.

***

The ramp to the Havoc Marauder was down on full display, a faint glow emanating from the inside casting an ambient light around the shadowy Republic base platform you found yourself crossing—a largely vacant area at just past 04:00 in the morning.

You simply waltzed up the steps in entering the cabin space before switching to a lightness in your bounce as you gazed around in search for the Sergeant.

“He’s not here, cyar’ika.”

You startled slightly at the coolly terse voice and lanky figure of Crosshair stepping into view, nimble fingers laced around a mug of some obscure dark liquid swirling the inside. Definitely not caf. Corellian Whiskey. Of course.

You decided not to rib the sniper for having a go at the wrong kind of shot this early in the morning; instead finding yourself timidly asking Hunter’s whereabouts.

Crosshair jerked his head to the exit, a brow raised in... amusement? Seriously? “Outskirts of the base. Grasslands, to be specific.”

Right. Crosshair wasn’t exactly the ‘specific’ type. His eyes currently harbored more than his usual sense of enigma; a glimmer of mischief towards a guarded secret, a piece of intel, an obscure fact you clearly weren’t privy to in that instant.

You wished everyone would stop being so cryptic. It was too early for this.

However, a buzzed Crosshair is not who you wanted to receive any type of confession nor opinion from regarding the current state of your endeavors in pursuing his ori’vod.

You acknowledged him with a slight nod before trekking out and promptly locating the man encompassing your focal point— positioned with a knee bent while the other remained splayed in front of his form, arms resting atop as he sat pensively in the midst of the field adorned in simple blacks, his tousled dark locks partaking in a gentle dance number with the cool breeze.

You abruptly halt your stride at the image of his back poised to you, the sudden swell of confusion and reservations gripping tightly at your entire being. Your brows furrowed, quickly sifting through different scenarios for conversing with the Sergeant who, as if on cue, stiffened slightly in sensing your presence. Oddly, you felt a spiked anxiety at the way he didn’t turn around to acknowledge you until you fully approached and firmly placed a hand to his shoulder while tentatively taking up a spot at his side.

“I’ve decided, Y/N,” he casually mused.

“That...?” You pry.

“Your thoughts are definitely louder than mine,” he finally stated with a smirk, eyes still fixated on the field ahead, though his entire demeanor had noticeably relaxed in your presence.

You chortled at his conclusion, turning to address the side of Hunter’s face, noting the way his facial tattoo became washed in the pale moon glow as you absentmindedly intertwined your fingers with his calloused hand—a habitual but fond gesture you sometimes shared in the wake of serenity.

You willed your mind to halt it’s march in carrying you over the line of looming thoughts for the unspoken—uncharted territory, the point of no return; confessions birthed from an overwhelming innateness for the acquiescence of profound desires, transcending beyond sole physicality.

While Hunter gently thumbed the tracing of random shapes along your knuckles, you begged your heart to stop cruelly taunting you with the prospect of this man beside you; a potentially shared future swirling overhead, clouding, permeating the space between.

You finally sigh deeply at the forced dispersal of thoughts, now opting for a form of incitement. “Well... Our conversation from earlier was a bit... lacking, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh? I think it went rather well.”

His purely whimsical tone that never failed to surface at any given time was irresistibly contagious; your own humor on full display and intrinsically colliding with Hunter’s in perfect unison.

“It could’ve gone even better, Sergeant.”

Hunter suddenly shivered at the velvet skin of lips grazing over his ear, your low and titillating hum of words accompanied by an echo further solidifying the effect. He quickly turned to regard you.

“Cyar’ika... not here.” He stood, fingers still threaded through yours before giving a slight tug. “Come.”

Your mind still raced with a million questions.

His mind raced with enhanced perceptiveness to the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, the cacophony of your thoughts beheld through the window of your expression, and the fluctuation of hormones festering between the two of you.

“Why?...” your voice stunted any further words. You couldn’t bring yourself in deciding which question to even ask first.

Why kiss me like that, why walk away, why now?

“Olaror, cyar’ika,” Hunter beckoned, guiding you through a discrete path back to the barracks, the path signifying a journey that lie much farther beneath the surface.

***

His unfaltering gaze boring into you made you squirm.

“Sarge, you still with me?” You giggle in hopes of lightening the atmosphere, to which he blinks slowly at your gentle nudge, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry, cyar’ika. Guess I’m a man of few words.”

“Sorry, Sir, you’ll have to do better than that,” you tsk, crossing your arms before flashing a knowing smirk towards his uncharacteristically meek composure.

But the perceptive Commando was nothing if not upfront and honest. That remained a steady inherence of his.

“Alright. Words fail me at the moment.”

“That’s more believable.”

Hunter scoffed lightly at your prodding but simply remained transfixed to your movements, facial expressions a loud amassment of words, even though the tense silence was becoming more of a companion to you than the man himself currently occupying the small space of your quarters. You had stripped out of your outer gear upon re-entrance and finally strode up in front of the Sergeant.

“Haar’chak, Hunter, just kiss me.” Your playful tone of an assertive demand rang through his ears, and you gave a breathy laugh at the way his brow arched in surprise with quick respondence to this newfound dominance of yours. Hunter fervently tried to shift his focus away from the sudden blood-flow to his lower half and from the way your hand drifted down his taut abdomen before fingers curled teasingly around the band of his blacks positioned just below his waist.

“That’s right,” you purr, a smug satisfaction peaking through at his authentic surprise and particular muscle response as you cocked your head to the side, eyes never leaving his own. “You’re not the only one who can give orders around here, Sergeant.”

Hunter cleared his throat in quelling a soft moan threatening to manifest from your tease before emitting a strained chuckle. “I’ll remember that.”

In actuality, he only vaguely remembered the sentiment as you fisted his blacks before pulling the Sergeant to you while permitting his lips to wander over your skin.

His kisses were clumsy, distracted and hesitant, wallowing in insecurity; one look to his contorted facial expression informed you that this man was terribly conflicted.

“Hunter,” you breathed, pausing; your tone laced with concern and predictably gentle; touch even more so while stroking his muscular arms in reassurance and forcing away the tingle down your spine in favor of exhibiting empathy for his plight. “Talk to me.”

You wanted to be the place where he ran to, instead of the place he was running from.

The Sergeant of Clone Force 99 didn’t ask for things, didn’t beg—strong will and determination always trumping over his own vulnerability and reservations. Yet he found himself abysmally succumbing to you in a desperate endeavor for clarity. If nothing else, closure.

“Just tell me, Y/N.” A low husk of his voice thickly coated with emotions had Hunter briefly halting his session with your lips to tentatively trail from your clavicle to the crook of your neck with deliberation, planting light kisses to accompany his journey until his lips ghosted the shell of your ear with a sudden plea.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me what I need to hear. I have to know.”

Tell me it’s okay to love you.

“Please.”

There it is again—that pained expression. The downcast one tracing over every fine line etched into the man’s face, the one that plagued his demeanor every time he found himself faced with the notion of making love to you.

You found yourself thankful in that moment for the support of durasteel wall pressed against your back as your legs and core momentarily ceased trembling from the sensuality of his touch, now shifting all focus in sharp attentiveness to the sound of desperation and urgency radiating from Hunter’s voice.

Your sudden realization regarding his trepidations were tangible in that moment, and you inwardly chide yourself for not having fully understood until now, locked in a moment of transparent intimacy.

He was afraid of falling for you, just as much as you were for him. Hunter often largely spoke in equivocations in attempt to satiate his deep predilection for you. You finally deciphered the unspoken inquiry, the only important questions which begged answers from both parties:

If I dove in headfirst, would you follow?

How deep in love?

How far with desire?

Hunter would never regard you as some derogatory objectification. He didn’t want to simply take you out of pure lust and sole consideration for a throbbing muscle between his legs. Hunter needed something more grounding than that. A cozy space safely nestled between fantasy and pragmatism, where he was neither Sergeant nor Soldier, mentally and physically stripped of the armor that forbade him the basic humanitarian rights of absolutely anything wholesome or blissful.

That forbade him from you. A life with you.

In that moment, Hunter needed confirmation— your verbally signed confession, your reassured coax—that he could love you unconditionally and purely unabashed.

You dwelled on the way the Sergeant’s steady arms, with a firm grip and strong determination, permitted not an inch of space between yet radiated such warmth and stability. How his larger hands ever so gently remained wrapped around the nape of your neck as he caressed the side of your face while waiting in earnest for your answer, studying you intently.

After several passing seconds with the hands of time seemingly encompassed around your neck and head locked in a moment of consideration for his plea, you fully conveyed the summarization of your entire future, now more certain than ever.

Reaching up to gently entangle your fingers in the tufts of his soft hair, you allow pools of deep brown irises to entrance and captivate you with allure before:

“Gar ani ner kar’ta. Ner cyare, ni copad taylir ibi’tuur, nakar’tuur, darasuum.”

Hunter’s breath hitched at your profound declaration, picking up on every string of enunciation and wishing he could choke on his own for you instead of the current gasping for air that resulted from a long moment of lips locked in an unbreakable seal of passion that effectively robbed the breath from both your lungs.

You complete my heart. My beloved, whom I desire to hold today, tomorrow, eternally.

Everything faded away into the night; breathtaking planets and glittering stars usually splayed across the galaxy now condensed into one room as brightened spirits and reflective constellations, elements between two people, became perfected by each other’s embrace.

The only stars that radiated within these durasteel walls were the ones Hunter had in his eyes for you. Reciprocated pledges of adoration echoed in resounding, with neither a faint consideration for war raging, nor death, nor despair—

—Hunter knew not these things, terms utterly foreign to a man who currently found respite in the outpouring of your name from his lips during the high of his pleasure, while worshipping the chorus of your own.

“Love me, Hunter.”

Hunter had never loved more intensely than he did you.

#star wars #The Bad Batch #Hunter X Reader #my writing #kissing prompt-turned-mini-series #you bet #this manifested from my 45-minute shower session #I don’t know what happened #I just... I love Hunter?#I LOVE HUNTER #hyperfixation?? maybe #want to marry him?? maybe that too #whoops #don’t mind me #hiding in the tags as some frivolous attempt to justify my sappy heart #the works of a touch-starved female who personally knows nothing of being in love:)#voila #hope it’s not too obvious #it’s a Lil thing

101 notes · View notes

besanii · 5 years ago

Note

wangxian olympic athletes au? b/c the contrast of wwx vs. lwj in hella public spotlights = 👌

(I know little to nothing about sport except maybe tennis because I spent 4 years in the prince of tennis fandom in high school so this is…not really sports related haha)

Set in the same universe as this kiss prompt.

The media has a field day.

Every news outlet, website and social media channel plays re-runs of their court-side kiss. Variations of the words “court-side confessions” and “star-crossed lovers” are accompanied by grand, sweeping tales of romance and serendipity, with quotes from “reliable” sources commenting on the inevitability of their union. Their phones have been blowing up with calls from people wanting interviews; they’re met with crowds everywhere they go; some of their fans have taken to screaming their names from the stands as they watch them train.

Wei Wuxian, predictably, finds it hilarious.

“Look, Lan Zhan, we’re on BuzzFeed!“ he says, waving his phone in Lan Wangji’s face. He starts reading from the article in a loud voice. “10 Times WangXian were #couplegoals. Hey cool, we have a couple name now!”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji says, and goes back to inspecting the gut of his racket.

Wei Wuxian gives him a knowing look from where he’s hanging over the back of the couch. He’s wearing a light blue sweater two sizes too large on him and nothing else; it gives Lan Wangji a tantalising glimpse of his collarbones where it hangs on his lean chest, which he studiously tries to ignore even as Wei Wuxian flops over dramatically onto his back. It tugs the edge of the sweater down where it catches between his body and the couch, exposing the curve of one shoulder.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines. “Lan Zhan. Look at me!”

“Sit properly,” Lan Wangji tells him instead. “You’ll pull the sweater out of shape.”

“Mm, I’m sure our previous…activities would have done more damage to your sweater,” Wei Wuxian says, waggling his eyebrows. “Right, Er-gege?”

Lan Wangji ignores him, but there is no mistaking the red flush creeping up his ears as Wei Wuxian smirks. He stretches languidly, all long limbs and grace, his lean swimmer’s build on full, sensual display as he scrolls through his phone.

After a while, he looks up at Lan Wangji with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey, Lan Zhan.”

“Hm?”

Lan Wangji looks up when he hears the rustle of fabric, followed by the muffled sound of socked feet padding along the carpet, and finds himself with a lap full of Wei Wuxian. His arms automatically come up to circle about Wei Wuxian’s waist, the racket forgotten on the ground, and his head tilts back to meet Wei Wuxian’s lips with his own. When the kiss breaks, they’re both smiling.

“Mm, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says happily, licking his lips. “You taste good, Er-gege.”

Lan Wangji smiles. “So do you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian leans in and bumps their noses together playfully.

“Do you think we could go out tonight?” he asks. “On an actual date?”

“Depends on how many people are waiting outside,” Lan Wangji replies. “It may be difficult.”

“I guess so.” Wei Wuxian pouts. “And here I wanted to show you off.”

“When we get back home,” Lan Wangji says, running his hands along Wei Wuxian’s torso in long, soft strokes. He chuckles when Wei Wuxian arches into the touch with a sigh. “You should be focusing on your race.”

“You’re right,” Wei Wuxian sighs. He slumps over onto Lan Wangji’s shoulder so that his entire body is draped around his torso like a sloth. “Hey, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes, Wei Ying?”

“Does it bother you? All the extra attention.”

Lan Wangji curls his arms around Wei Wuxian and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“No,” he says finally.

“Really?”

“It’s not great,” he admits. “But you get used to it.”

“Mm.” Wei Wuxian turns to nuzzle his neck. “Do you regret doing it so publicly?”

“No,” Lan Wangji replies. He kisses the exposed skin on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Not if the whole world knows that I love you.”

Wei Wuxian buries his face in Lan Wangji’s neck and clings to him like a koala. Lan Wangji returns the hug, threading his hands through Wei Wuxian’s hair and holding him close.

“Hey, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes, Wei Ying?”

“I love you too.”

// buy me a ko-fi //

#hey nonny nonny #asks #mdzs #wangxian #my writing #sports au #soft cuddles #established relationship #fluff #all fluff #and softness #wwx is a koala #i want soft cuddles too #so this is very self-indulgent

181 notes · View notes

clintbartonswife · 5 years ago

Text

bird cage

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, mentioned!Sam x Riley, Steve, Natasha Summary: HYDRA had caged you, all Sam wants to do is set you free Notes: mentions HYDRA torture, soulmate!au, mutual pining? I will probably write a part two to this at some point masterlist || part two

The mark on you collar bone was all you had left - the only thing that their machines couldn't take from you.

No one had ever told you what the mark meant, why the bird was caged behind iron bars, or why it couldn't be removed. You were grateful for it though.

The mark gave you a sense of comfort that you never got from anything else. No matter how many times they tried to break you, all you had to do was look at the bird and you felt calm again, safe amongst the worst people you’d ever met.

For the last few days, it was the only thing you concentrated on.

No one came in and out of your cell, the isolation confusing to you. Normally you’d be experimented on at least every other day, not to mention the leering insults that would normally get thrown at you by passing guards.

You guessed you should revel in the silence while you had a chance, an uneasy feeling brewing in your gut.

You were awoken the next day to footsteps echoing through the corridor just outside of your cell, the first sound you had heard in days. You stilled, fear coursing through your veins as you realised you didn't recognise them.

You had been stuck here for so long that by now you could tell every guard, scientist and staff member apart just by the sound of their footsteps. This person was new.

New recruits usually meant pain.

Another two pairs of footsteps joined the first, your heart now beating like crazy. Three. Three new people.

“Anything?”

The voice seemed to bounce off the walls of your cell, crisp, clear and direct. Authoritarian. A new handler perhaps?

“He’s not here - I checked”

Another man’s voice, though this one was softer. Before you could register what he had said, the third voice spoke.

“Did you check the cells?”

Female. Also hard, though not as harsh as you were used to. Who were these people?

The second man spoke again, this time nearer your cell, “Not all of them - why would Barnes be hiding in a cell?”

“That exact reason” The woman replied, sounding slightly exasperated as footsteps moved further left, “you didn't think to check”

“huh”

You held your breath as the sound of opening cell doors filled the space, your hand reaching up to cover your mark protectively as you curled up in the corner of your cell.

Jumping slightly as your door swung open, you kept your head tucked in between your legs, trying your best not to move a muscle.

“No, nothing in he- holy shit!”

“What, Sam?” the woman said, footsteps hurriedly rushing over towards you.

“There’s a person in here”

“Barnes?”

“No - too small”

You tensed up further as you heard some shuffling by the doorway, the woman stepping over to you. She stopped a safe distance away.

“Are you okay?”

How on earth were you supposed to answer that?

Sensing your reluctance to answer, the second man - Sam? - spoke again, “We’re not HYDRA”

“What?”

Your voice was croaky from misuse, eyes narrowing as you slightly lifted your head up, getting your first glance at the new arrivals.

The woman was standing just slightly to your left, the two men blocking the doorway.

“We’re not with HYDRA” the first man repeated, more firmly this time, “you’re safe”

You huffed a laugh at that, curling back into your tight ball, “Am I? How do I know you’re not just gonna kidnap me like they did, huh?”

“Because we’re looking for somebody” the first man replied, choosing his words carefully, “somebody who was taken - like you. We hate what HYDRA did to them. We’d never do the same”

“Who?”

“Im sorry?” Sam asked

“Who are you looking for?”

“His name’s Bucky - you may know him as the Winter Soldier”

You turned to face the woman, eyes connecting to hers.

“You wont find him”

The blond man stepped forwards, hand lifting his shield threateningly, “Excuse me?”

“Steve-”

Backing even further into the corner, you made eye contact with Sam, “You wont find him. When he wants to be found, he’ll come to you”

“How do you know?”

You tapped the side of your head lightly, a small smile on your face.

Huffing, the first man Steve stood down, arm returning to his side.

“There’s no one left here. It was abandoned - they left you here to rot”

A mirthless chuckle escaped you, hugging your arms tighter around your body, “They gave me mercy”

The woman beside you frowned, exchanging a glance with the other two before offering her hand, “Come with us. We can take you somewhere safe”

You eyed the hand warily for a minute. With a sigh, you uncurled and accepted it, letting her help you off of the ground.

A small gasp came from Sam, his eyes fixed on your mark.

“It’s you”

“What?”

“Her collar bone - look Nat”

Your hand moved to cover it automatically, not liking the attention it was getting, starting to back off into the corner again.

“I don't understand” you whispered, eyeing them.

The excited look on Sam’s face dimmed, his fists clenching slightly as he stepped forward, “do you know what that is?”

His voice sounded almost hurt, his eyes turning sad as you shook your head.

“I know its mine” you eventually said, lifting your head up higher, “They couldn't take it away from me”

This time it was Steve who stepped forward, face aghast as Sam let out a punched noise.

“God, no - we’d never - they tried to remove it?”

You nodded, gaze flitting between the three of them. The woman’s face was steely, though her eyes were angry.

“If you come with us they wont be able to try again” Nat spoke, tone calculated, “You can keep it - that's a promise”

Hesitating for only a moment, you nodded, Sam relaxing slightly.

You didn't speak again until you boarded their jet, carrying you away from the cold grey walls that you had been encased in for years.

“What is it?”

Your voice was quiet, and you were sure that if Sam hadn't been watching you so closesly it would’ve been lost amongst the white noise of the engine.

“What’s what?”

“The mark - you seemed to know what it was when you saw it”

His gaze moved to your collarbone where your fingers gently stroked the branded skin, clearing his throat before answering.

“Everyone’s born with at least one on their skin” he stated, avoiding eye contact, “they’re called soulmarks, and they all have a copy on the skin of someone else”

“Everyone has one?”

“Yes”

“What happens when you find the one that matches?”

Sam gave you a small smile, averting his gaze to his feet as he cleared his throat, “You know you’ve found your soulmate”

You gave a small noise, to let him know you’d heard him, before frowning in thought. Silence fell over the two of you again, only breaking when you nudged his leg with your foot.

“Soulmates are safe” you stated, voice slightly unsure, “I think I know that”

Sam smiled again, this time with a less melancholic look, and nodded.

“They should be, yes”

You took a moment to let the validation sink in, going back to staring resolutely at your hands placed in your lap.

“Do you think my soulmate would still want me?”

“Wha- of course. Why would you ask that?”

You flashed him a rueful smile, gesturing in the direction you had come from.

“Well, I don't think that matters at all” Sam said firmly, “You weren't there by choice”

You hummed thoughtfully, tilting your head to the side as you surveyed him.

“Where’s your mark?”

“I have two” Sam said, hand absentmindedly coming to rest on his thigh, “though the first one is fading quite a bit now”

You frowned, “why?”

“They died”

“Oh... why do they fade?”

Sam shrugged, sadness clear in his eyes, “No one’s really sure. The marks just fade out until they look like a scar - still there but less … obvious”

“And your other mark?”

Sam just smiled, turning around as Nat’s voice ran over the intercom, “ETA 3 minutes, get your gear ready to go, Maximoff is waiting outside the safe house”

“I’ll be back” Sam sighed, moving to the other side of the jet where he started to re-pack the equipment.

Your thoughts began to take over as you listened absentmindedly to the sounds of the aircraft, fingers lightly tracing the lines soothingly. You knew that you felt safe around Sam, the others not so much - but if he trusted them then you guess they couldn't be too bad - besides, it’s not like you had much choice in the matter.

“We’re here” Sam murmured, hand gently hovering over your shoulder, as if afraid to spook you, “you’re safe now”

________________________________________________________________

@xxloki81xx @geeksareunique @bangtan-serendipity

141 notes · View notes

saoirse-argentum · 6 years ago

Text

PROMPT #25: TRUST

(It’s party time! This did not go the way I planned at all! Lessons learned: Haurchefant cannot be trusted to mix drinks and Dinner Parties will never end well in this universe.)

HEAT LEVEL: MILD SPICE! *Some suggestive dialogue and light fondling.

Saoirse was not surprised to find that Aymeric’s estate was impeccable. It was elegant and refined much the same as he was, and the ambiance in the dining room was almost romantic. It made her wonder what Estinien’s home was like. He stayed at the manor to be near her, so she had no idea, but if she were to imagine it as a reflection of him the same way Aymeric’s home was, well…she perished the thought. Thoughtful and kind as he was on the inside, she could still only picture a dark dungeon of sorts considering his disdain for most people and things.

She stepped into the dining hall where the others were gathered. She’d left some time after the men, having agreed to accompany Ysayle after extending the invitation to her, but she was pleased to see that everyone present was not only civil, but happy. Even Estinien, who stood drinking and chatting with Artoirel looked content. He glanced in her direction when she entered and she smiled. She was happy to see he’d been paying attention, waiting for her, and she wished she could go to him or him to her, but it would seem strange to the others considering what they believed to be the state of things.

“You still long for him? Despite his obsidian heart?” Ysayle questioned, shifting her glance between Saoirse and Estinien.

“Oh, he’s not that bad.” Saoirse laughed through her awkwardness and scratched the back of her head. “If it makes you feel better, he did apologize when he returned.” It was true, he had but he had done far more than that…not that she could say.

Ysayle smiled at Saoirse and placed her hand on her arm. “I’d feel better if I knew your heart lingered elsewhere.” She paused when she noticed Aymeric approaching. “Perhaps someone more agreeable will come along. If you will excuse me.” Ysayle stepped away, walking over to join Alphinaud and Lucia at the table.

“Good evening, Saoirse.”

Saoirse turned around to greet Aymeric, who, like the others, had traded his armor for more formal attire. “Aymeric, your home is stunning.”

“That is kind of you to say, but it hardly rivals you.” He gently touched her shoulder. “Please, make yourself at home, and we can speak more later once I have greeted the others.”

She nodded and as Aymeric walked away she noticed Estinien off in the corner, watching her. He seemed to dismiss himself from his conversation and stepped out into the hall. She did her best to avoid everyone else as she followed after him, but when she entered the hall he was nowhere to be seen.

“Estinien?” She wondered a little further, trying not to call too loudly. “I could have sworn—” She felt someone grab her arm from behind and yank into one of the many rooms. She’d found him.

He pinned her between him and door and stared down at her, saying nothing. For a moment she was certain he was upset, likely due his jealousy, but her anxiety was dismissed. He leaned in close and eased his mouth against hers. He gently cupped her cheek as he pulled away. His eyes were low, his voice soft. “You vie with even the sunset.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I fear I may well struggle to shroud my jealousy or want for long.”

Saoirse placed her hands to his chest and pushed him back slightly so her eyes could meet his. “It took everything I had not to run to you. Who knew you cleaned up so nice?” She smiled and brushed his bangs aside.

Estinien’s hair was partially pulled back and he wore a High House jacket in steel blue, with the sleeves perfectly tucked into his black, fingerless gloves. His thigh-high boots were the same dark shade and covered most of his tight, Falconer’s bottoms. He was like a prince…a brute prince, but he was hers.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her leg through high slit of her cheongsam and pulled her into him. His fingertips played with lace garter around her thigh as he held her. “Well, you have me now, and I see no urgency in returning to the festivities.”

She turned her head, knowing if she looked into his eyes much longer, she’d surrender. “It’s still early. I haven’t even said hi to everyone, and I’m sure dinner will be served soon…they’ll notice we’re missing.”

“Hmph.” Estinien slipped his hand away. “Fine, but in two bells time, return here to me.”

“Alright.”

Estinien reached around Saoirse for the door, but paused before opening it. “Recognize that the longer you test my fortitude, the more arduous it will be to restrain myself once I seize you.” His breath kissed the skin of her neck and sent a wave of warmth over her body.

She didn’t need to see her face to know she was red with embarrassment. She swallowed and attempted to stutter a response, but Estinien just grinned and kissed her before sneaking out of the room. Saoirse pressed her back to the door and looked to the ceiling. She needed a moment to compose herself before she could rejoin the party…maybe longer.

****************************************************************************

During dinner Saoirse ended up seated across from Estinien and decided to return the favor for his earlier torment by stroking her foot slowly up his leg. He must not have considered her bold enough to continue from there because he was startled when she traced the inside of his thigh, finding him. It caused him to drop his silverware and his hands slammed against the table. Saoirse did her best not to laugh.

Estinien waited for the others to redirect their attention away from him before mouthing the words, “you’re mine” to Saoirse and dinner continued without any further interruption.

By the time dinner was over, Saoirse still had another bell before she was to meet Estinien again, so she sat with Haurchefant and Alphinaud and played a few hands of serendipity poker. By the second round she began to feel a bit tipsy.

She looked at her glass and then to Haurchefant. He was examining his hand, but she couldn’t help but notice the pink shade to his cheeks. “Haurchefant, what’s in this?” A question she probably should have asked before drinking the first two earlier in the night.

“I call it the Splendid Special.” Haurchefant took a swig from his cup and raised it to cheer Saoirse’s glass. “Take a splash of Mun-Tuy brew—since on its own it can be difficult to stomach—mix in some Sourleaf nectar, a sizeable amount of aged Ishgardian Brandy, orange juice, and a little bit Lover’s Laurel extract and you have yourself the perfect mixture.”

Alphinaud dropped his cards, his mouth slightly agape. “Surely you are joking.” Haurchefant shook his head. He was entirely serious. “Why that’s…” Alphinaud’s face flushed red. “You must know that…”

“Alphinaud are you alright?” Saoirse placed her hand on his arm. “You seem flustered. Is there something wrong with our drinks? Has Haurchefant poisoned us all?”

He leaned closer to Saoirse and whispered, “Lover’s Laurel on its own is already considered a powerful aphrodisiac and Haurchefant has mixed it with Mun-Tuy brew which is known for increasing a man’s vigor…not to mention the Brandy. He has practically concocted a potion for passion.”

“Like I said, Splendid Special.” Haurchefant reached over and patted Alphinaud on the shoulder with a laugh. “What are you worried about, it’s not as though you have had any.”

“But the remainder of you are already three drinks in!” Alphinaud buried his face in his hands. “This can only end poorly.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Alphie, it will be alright!” Saoirse threw her arms around Alphinaud and yanked him against her. She held his head to his chest and stroked his hair.

“Alphie!? This is the exact sort of conduct that concerns me.” Alphinaud tried to pull away, but Saoirse just nuzzled him tighter. His face was faerie apple red. “Saoirse, I mean no disrespect, but by the Fury, you are smothering me.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You’re just so cute!” Saoirse released him. “And someday you’re going to grow up to be such a handsome young man.”

“I am grown up!”

Haurchefant laughed. “Ah, but you are not yet a man.” Haurchefant draped his arm over Saoirse’s shoulder and leaned into her. “I speak the truth, do I not, sunshine?”

Saoirse giggled and before Alphinaud could scold either of them Estinien and Aymeric both approached to see what the commotion was.

“What has you all so uncivilized?” Estinien gripped the back of Alphinaud’s chair but his glare was set on Haurchefant who remained against Saoirse.

“Haurchefant made a love potion…love making potion?” Saoirse looked at Haurchefant and they both laughed, forcing Alphinaud to explain the situation.

“Please, tell me you haven’t…” There was no use in asking. Alphinaud could tell by the flush color across their cheeks that they too had partaken in Haurchfant’s Splendid Special.

Estinien pulled up the chair beside Alphinaud. “Rest assured, Master Alphinaud. Some of us can handle our liquor.”

Aymeric sat beside Haurchefant and pulled him off Saoirse and upright in his own seat. “Estinien is right. These two have obviously just had too much.”

Haurchefant waived his index finger in Aymeric’s face. “No, no. It just hasn’t struck you yet, but it will and once it does, you’ll know.” He winked with a smile. “Oh, I know! Since Estinien and yourself can handle your liquor so well, why not make a game of it.”

“Oh, yes, a game!” Saoirse clapped her hands in agreement but Alphinaud protested.

Estinien crossed his right leg over his left and leaned back into his chair. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass our great Lord Commander.” His sarcasm was more than evident.

Aymeric placed his hands in his lap and smiled. “Is that a challenge from the Azure Dragoon himself?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Well, as Lord Commander, I accept. Haurchefant, if you would please.”

“Aye!” Haurchefant was quick to grab a pitcher of not only his Splendid Special, but he returned with five pieces of paper, each with one of their names written on it. “The game is Drink or Candor. Every round you will draw one of these cards. This indicates the person you will be questioning. The rules are simple, you ask your target a question, any question, the idea is that it is personal…one that they would rather drink to than answer. At the end of each round, we mix up the cards again and you redraw for a new target. For every question you answer honestly, you get a point. If you don’t wish to answer, then you must drink. The individual with the most points at the end of five rounds wins.”

Alphinaud removed the card with his name from the table. “I think perhaps it is best that I moderate the game.” He smiled shyly. “Keep score.” What he meant to say was keep them in line.

Haurchefant flipped all the cards face down and shuffled them around on the table. “Ladies first.”

Saoirse drew the first card. “Aymeric.” She was nervous about going first. Even if the game was designed to get personal, she didn’t want to be the one to start the chain. “Um…hmm. I guess I’ll start of with an easy one. Who in this room do you think could get away with murder?”

“Estinien.” There was no hesitation. He didn’t even bother to turn his eyes elsewhere before making his judgement.

“Just give me a reason, Aymeric.” Estinien glared at him, but Alphinaud urged Haurchefant to draw a card to redirect everyone’s attention.

The game continued with no one resorting to drinking because they didn’t want to answer, but with a drink in their hand, it was hard not to partake between turns. After a mild first round, Haurchefant was the first to get personal, and like a domino effect, everyone fell with him.

“Ah, Estinien. My question is for you.” Haurchefant sat pensive for a moment before returning his attention to Estinien, a serious look in his eye. “What arouses you?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Then it would seem you are to drink,” Aymeric chimed in.

“He’s right, Estinien, those are the rules,” Haurchefant nodded. “Either tell us or drink. If you drink that puts you in last place.”

Estinien leaned forward and pointed at Haurchefant. “I will get you for this.” He sat back and crossed his arms, closing his eyes. “Vulnerability.”

“Ooo, well I guess that confirms it. Estinien is absolutely a dominate.” Haurchefant laughed to himself.

“Shut up. Aymeric draw your card and silence him.” Estinien glanced at Saoirse and she did her best not to blush.

Aymeric drew a card. “Saoirse.” His eyes met hers and he smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask anything deviant.”

“You are missing the point of the game!” Haurchefant shook Aymeric by the shoulders. “Now is not the time to be a gentleman.”

Aymeric grabbed Haurchefant by the arms to stop him. “Then what would you suggest? I am afraid this is not my area of expertise.”

“Anything! It is not about being polite, it is about letting your inhibitions go. Allowing yourself to be the splendid creature we are all meant to be.” Haurchefant sat back in his chair. “There are so many curiosities to consider: what arouses you; what is your favorite position; when was the last time you pleasured yourself—”

“Alright, that will do, Haurchefant, I understand well enough. She can answer that if she wishes.” Aymeric avoided looking at Saoirse or the others.

“I am afraid you have to be the one to ask the question.” Haurchefant patted Aymeric’s knee with a grin.

“Perhaps we have all played enough for today. Why not join the other guests back in the dining hall?” Alphinaud tried to diffuse the situation he sensed was coming.

Saoirse looked at the floor, her face a bright red, and Aymeric mumbled something, his own features equally flushed.

“You will need speak up, if you wish for her to hear what you are asking.” Haurchefant squeezed his shoulder. “No need to be shy.”

“When was…” Aymeric glanced at Saoirse but quickly looked away when her eyes met his. “When did—”

“Enough!” Estinien rose from his chair in a fury, knocking it onto it’s back. “Saoirse, drink.” He pointed from her to her cup and back again. “The only card left on the table is Aymeric’s, so then, Lord Commander, since this is a game of truths, why not reveal a pertinent one. Tell everyone here why I actually left when Saoirse was injured.”

Aymeric’s soft features hardened with his stare and he stood to meet Estinien. “This is not the time or place, Estinien.”

Alphinaud placed himself between them. “Please, we are on the same side.”

“I am not so sure.” Estinien’s fist shook at his side. It took everything in him to keep from swinging. He turned on his heal and stormed out into the hall.

Aymeric turned from Alphinaud, his shoulders tense. “Saoirse, I apologize if I upset you in anyway.”

Saoirse shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I agreed to play."

“Please, all of you, enjoy the rest of your evening. Estinien and I can handle our quarrel at another time.” Aymeric quietly walked back into the dining hall, opposite of where Estinien had gone.

Saoirse suddenly felt very sobered by the situation and stood. “I am going to talk to them. See if I can’t help mend the fence.”

Alphinaud sank back into his chair. “I told you this would not end well.”

“On the contrary, I think it went perfectly.” Haurchefant set his glass on the table and stretched. “It is important that we are honest with one another, but more so, that we allow ourselves to be honest to our own hearts. Love who we love and do so openly with genuine truth. Anything else is suffering.” Haurchefant looked at Alphinaud with a sad smile. “Believe me, this I know all too well.”

******************************************************************************

There was still time before Saoirse was supposed to meet with Estinien…if she was to meet with him. She decided that it would be best to talk to Aymeric first, as Estinien was likely to be a more complicated matter. When she didn’t find him in the dining hall, she wandered the corridors until she stumbled upon him. He was standing outside in the back garden, watching the snow fall.

“Aymeric?”

He glanced at her a moment before returning his attention to the sky. “Apologies, I find myself far too embarrassed to face you at present.”

“Don’t be.” Saoirse stood beside him. “Haurchefant says silly things all the time, and I am still willing to spend time with him.”

“Even in his perversion, Haurchefant’s heart is more noble than any I have ever known, this is why you remain at his side. I worry it may not be the same for me.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it is.”

“You know, don’t you. Why Estinien hurt you.” Aymeric turned to face her. “It is alright. I saw you sneak in through his window not long ago.”

Now she was embarrassed. “Then you knew that we were…Why didn’t you say anything?”

“My own selfishness, I suppose. Perhaps I believed that if you were forced to hide yourselves, the distance and lying would be more than the relationship could endure.” Aymeric brushed her hair back off her shoulder. “And there in lies the difference between myself, and Haurchefant. I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this, but I did have the best intentions when I told Estinien to end things. My aim was never to take his place. No matter how much I love you.”

Saoirse stared at Aymeric wide eyed. “What did you just say?”

“Do you remember back at Snowcloak, you looked at me and swore to me that all would be well, and then you smiled and said you’d protect me and Ishgard, as if I needed protecting. I knew then that you were a peculiar woman, but I found myself so taken with you.” Aymeric took a small step closer to her. His eyes not leaving hers. “I thought it best I not pursue it, as it would complicate matters, but then…You were so wrapped up in Estinien, and while it pained me, what else was I to do? You were happy. I was willing to live with that, but then I almost lost you. I was sure I was sparing you pain, but perhaps Estinien was right. Maybe I did want him to be the villain. I know now, though that such a role is mine.” Aymeric grabbed Saoirse by the waist and shoulder. “Be with him if that is your wish. Tell the others the truth, if you must. I will accept the blame. At least then I can fight for you openly.” Aymeric pressed his lips to hers.

“I knew you weren’t to be trusted.” Estinien stood just beyond the door.

Aymeric pulled away and he and Saoirse both looked to Estinien. “Estinien, I didn’t…”

“Step away from him, Saoirse.” Estinien walked toward them, anger in his stride.

“Estinien, wait. Whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t necessary.” Saoirse attempted to stand between them, but Aymeric pushed her aside.

“It’s alright, Saoirse. I knew what I was doing.”

Estinien stopped only a few inches in front of Aymeric. “I warned you.”

“I know.”

Estinien swung his fist, striking Aymeric’s cheek at full force, knocking him back into the snow. He stood over him. “I will do what is needed for Ishgard, but do not expect me to trust you.” He stepped over him and took Saoirse by the hand. “Let’s go.”

“We can’t just leave him!” Saoirse snatched her hand away.

“He will be fine; however, should you make me stay then things may prove otherwise.” He attempted to grab her hand once more, but Saoirse held it close to her chest.

“Do you love me?”

“What are you going on about?”

“Answer the question.”

“You know I do.”

Saoirse walked up to him with a stern look in her eyes. “Then fix this mess the two of have made.” She smacked her palm into his shoulder and stormed past him.

Estinien watched her disappear inside. “Honestly. She plagues me!”

“It would seem that these sorts of gatherings just don’t end well for the lot of us.” Aymeric dusted the snow from his clothes.

“Silence or so help me. I will strike you a second time.”

Estinien wasn’t sure how he was supposed to solve anything with Aymeric. They were rivals, like dragon and man…only he didn’t have a thousand years to figure things out. His patience was already plenty thin.

10 notes · View notes

thelostcatpodcast · 5 years ago

Text

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS SPECIAL: SEASON 2: EPISODE 3: THE EMPTY MAN

Released on: 23rd October 2016

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-2-episode-3-the-empty-man

Chance or choice, luck or fate, destiny or doom, karma or curse, inevitability, serendipity, providence or kismet: I knew it was a mistake leaving the house.

For if I have learnt anything, it is that a situation that can not get any worse, never gets any better.

THE LOST CAT PODCAST SEASON 2, BY A P CLARKE: EPISODE 3: THE EMPTY MAN

When I was a child I used to imagine a monster stomping towards me. It was all the way on the other side of the world but it was stomping its way towards me. When it reached me it would kill me. I swore I could hear its stomps getting ever closer.

The noise was in fact the pulsing of the blood vessels in my ear, making the material of the pillow I was lying on scrunch scrunch scrunch rhythmically.

Of course, as I became more scared the stomps of the monster got louder and got faster.

It was only much later in life that I figured out what was really happening, and by then it was far too late.

The pub was burning down. The pub was burning hot and bright and would not last long at all.

I held my hand on Azzy's shoulder and said, “it’s OK.”

It was all I could think of. It was his pub, and he had burnt it down. He was covered in petrol and I had my hand on his shoulder to stop him walking in to the flames.

Was else could you say to a person like that, but, “it’s OK, it’s OK.”

Over the road, a row of cats stared dispassionately at the flames.

Spiris, to my side, was looking out over the crowd, seemingly looking out for something. Then their head jerked upwards, and their eyes widened. A figure was up on the roof next to the pub, masked to protect her from the smoke. The crowd followed Spiris' eyes up and then pointed and yelled.

“There she is!”

“Ha-HAAA! Hello chaps!” the figure yelled back and held up the large hose she was carrying, having dragged it from some neighbouring business. Hooking it up, she sprayed water down through the destroyed roof of the building and immediately the roaring was changed to a hiss, as the flames on that second floor died down, and white smoke enveloped the figure. She stepped back, waved to the crowd below, and then jumped into the building.

Thirty seconds later the flames on the first floor were blasted into steam

Azzy, the pub owner who had set the fire going, suddenly stood up with such startling force he pushed me back.

“She's opening up the valves of the water system,” he said. “She's flooding the entire building. It could be saved. I have to stop her.”

Spiris joined me in holding him back down.

“There, there,” they said. “It's going to be OK.”

Azzy moaned as he sat back down under our weight.

The figure re-emerged, up onto the roof and held her fist aloft. The crowd was cheering. They were raising bottles.

“She's bloody amazing,” they said.

“She's been everywhere round here,” said another.

Some friends of his arrived then, running from down the street. They took him in their arms, and I stepped away. He was in better hands now.

“It makes no sense,” said a voice behind me. “wouldn’t you agree?”

I turned and there was a man: calm, neat, slightly rounded of face in a way that smoothed out any distinguishing bone structure. He was staring up at the devastation of the fire.

“I’ve found finding the sense behind things rarely helps any,” I said.

And the man smiled.

“That’s nice. I like that.”

“I mean, I’m just looking for my cat.”

And he laughed, a polite laugh, and he said, “you’ll do.”

“Thanks, man,” I said.

And the crowd lit up as the figure from the roof leapt down onto the pavement. The crowd roared with approval. She was breathing strongly, her whole body moving up and down, sweat was making her skin bloom, and her eyes were entirely shining.

“Well hello there,” said Spiris.

“Well hello yourself,” she said, approaching Spiris.

“I'm Spiris.”

“You can call me Lisica.”

“I most certainly will.”

And Spiris approached Lisica.

But then Lisica turned away, for a Cinder was standing at the far end of the street.

“Oh what does he want?” asked the masked figure, turning to face the Ignizoi as he was joined by another.

And another.

There was a small crowd of Ignizoi at the end of the street now.

“Have you ever seen them in these numbers?”

“Nope,” said the masked figure, turning towards them while pulling a thin sword from her back scabbard.

“Strange to see them so near a pub.”

“What on earth do they want?”

Now seeing a street full of Cinders, I had a sudden urge to be somewhere else, and headed across the street to the line of cats who were still, quite calmly, watching the smoking ruin of the pub.

And then the crowd of Cinders stepped across the street too, mirroring me.

Lisica and Spiris looked at me.

“What the hell makes him so special?” said Lisica.

I started walking away from the Cinders. And then the crowd of burning figures all started walking forwards, towards me.

“I think you should get him out of here,” said Lisica.

“I entirely agree,” said Spiris, stepping carefully and pushing me back.

Then the dozens of Ignizoi at the end of the street started screaming, and started running towards me. The onlookers around the pub scattered, Spiris pushed me down a side alley, and Lisica levelled her sword at the screaming crowd. “I'll go and have a word with them, chaps,” she said. “Find out what they want. You? Go!”

And so the masked figure ran towards the burning ones, and we ran south, deep into the city.

We could hear them screaming. The buildings echoed their screams around us so they surrounded us and closed in from every side. We ran. We kept low and slid down alleys and side streets wherever we could. We ran.

The day was dark already and darkening still, though it was just beginning. I had never seen the Dark Cloud move so fast. The lines were deep and sweeping, creating enormous breaking spirals above us, linked by huge sweeping strokes. The Cloud was crashing against itself in conflicting currents, forming and re-forming itself in ever deeper patterns. We ran beneath it and I swear I could see the rising glow of Ignizoi flames on every single wall we passed.

We ran and we hid. Spiris knew this city well and we crept through its secret paths. We crouched, motionless and holding our breaths beneath a bridge as we felt the heat from their flames pass by overhead.

And slowly, achingly slowly, the screaming died down, and could only be heard far off to the north of us. The screaming faded down to almost nothing. Then stopped entirely. We were left in silence.

“Well that was exciting,” said Spiris.

But the Dark Cloud still roiled above us, lowering upon the buildings with the growing intensity of a storm.

The pavement felt like it would open and seal me within its suffocating embrace. The roofs of the houses still felt like they would burst apart with flames at any moment, that would rain down upon me and turn my skin to liquid. And I felt it in the knot of my stomach. The feeling that everything was going to break. That every thing was just mud and decay.

That feeling. I had it. It is tough to shake.

I wanted to hide, I wanted to go back to my room, But I kept this from Spiris. I did not want to worry them. I wanted to help them.

“We lost them,” they said. “Good work.”

They walked with a real spring in their step. I had to hurry to keep up.

“But now we have to find the cats again.”

“I can help with that.”

“Yes. Yes you can.”

“But...but...,” I began, flinching at every tiny noise, imagining it to be the start of the screams once more. “But they are still out there.”

“You are a popular one today,” they said. “Here,” they said, handing me a bottle of wine.

“I'm not sure I want any.”

“Nonsense. It'll keep your spirits up. That's an order.”

I smiled and, there out of the corner of my eye, the old familiar movement of a cat. And, sure enough, there was a cat walking between hedgerows in to the next street. And there, in the next street another cat, walking in exactly the same direction, into Old Town. Spiris smiled, a huge smile.

“Cats!” they said “Come on!”.

And we followed cats, deep in to the city, and had a large glass of wine.

Burn it all, burn it down Burn the old cathedrals down Altars to the old gods Used as pyres for the fire They’ll keep us warm and give us light, For just one night Learn to fall and you are found Stand your ground and be cut down In the storms in the earthquakes still to come We can not lose for we are lost Amongst the flames and burning buildings We toss and we turn like ashes Amongst the flames and burning buildings We are the ones who learnt to live in fire All our lives, breathing smoke, bleeding light Burn it all to the bone, build a new world In fire, all our lives, breathing smoke, bleeding light Burn it all to the bone. Amongst the flames and burning buildings We are the ones who learnt to live in fire Take my hand, we will stand Barefoot on the broken ground We will dance, we will dance amongst the ruins Face to face, skin to skin We look like demons to them Who look like statues to us Too big to fail too big a burden The more you fight the more the damage done Amongst the flames and burning buildings We are the ones who learnt to live in fire All our lives, breathing smoke, bleeding light Burn it all to the bone, build a new world In fire, all our lives, breathing smoke, bleeding light Burn us all to the bone. Amongst the flames and burning buildings We are the ones who learnt to live in fire

We followed the trail, and found my city changed. There, a man was sitting in his destroyed car, bleeding through glass, hanging half-in and half-out of the school he had just driven in to.

There, one of the shanty-towers was toppled over and spread across the street, with a crowd tearing it to shreds with their hands. Their hands were red, they had lost fingers. Still they carried on.

The great mural on the side of the church had been painted over in grey. The kids who had spent a year painting the mural stood by its side, their hands covered in grey.

There were fires and explosions and yes in some there were bodies. Everywhere the sheds, extensions and constructions of the city were burning, leaving only the regular, iron skeletons of buildings in neat, uniform rows.

And, at times, there were just people standing in the street, staring blankly at nothing, but calmly, as if waiting for a train.

And each and every time, they said the same thing: “the Empty Man made me do it”.

Everyone I asked said the same: “the Empty Man made me do it.”

I would ask, in increasing fear, why they called him the Empty Man, and they turned to me, clear eyed, and said “there is nothing inside him”.

I asked them why they did what they did and they said “it seemed like the right thing to do.”

I asked him where he was. They said “he isn't really there.”

There was no singing in the streets any more. There was no shouting. Everything was quiet. You could hear echoes. Everything felt like it was closing in and falling away at the same time. My home was changing, it was being changed, and the old familiar dangers were being replaced by something new.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. “Can you feel it?” I asked.

“Feel what?”

“The change.”

“That's what I like about you,” they said. “The real truth is that all things change and we must fight to shape the change, just as the enemy does every day. Their greatest victory the enemy ever achieved was convincing us our goal was stability.”

“But this feels… new somehow.”

“I believe it is happening. The final play. Tonight is the night. It all comes to this. We must find him, and we must destroy him. We can not let anything get in our way.”

They looked at me.

“Drink some more,” they said. “It'll do you good.”

And we came across a burning shop, with its owners staring into it blankly from the pavement, the curtains inside still being eaten.

“This one is very recent,” said Spiris.

And then a crowd of Ignizoi walked out from the fire. They spread out, searching. I stood very still. Spiris looked all around: at the trail of cats leading off in to Old Town, at the line of Cinders standing between us and the trail, and a change came over them.

“We never lost them,” they said.

Spiris handed me the bottle of wine. “Here, drink it all,” they said.

“For god's sake, why?”

“They hate alcohol. They can't stand to be around it or the drinking of it. They regard it as the ultimate waste of time. Drink as much as you can and they may be blinded to you.”

I took the bottle.

“Drink it all,” they said.

“What about you?” I said.

They said: “they aren’t after me.”

They took a step back from me.

“You have helped me so much. You are a good man. I fight for you.”

“Take care of my cat.”

“Good luck,” they said.

And with that they were gone, and there I was. I thought back to the Cinder who had recoiled from me as he passed me on the high street, only yesterday. I took a huge swig of wine as the screams of the Cinders rose, and I ran.

For I knew I was close to the stone village

It was so dark I could barely see ahead of me. But I ran. I ran through side-streets and gardens. Alleys and allotments. I ran up the hill to the stone village and threaded myself through the hundreds of statues that gathered there. Men, women, children, standing, sitting, lying, and more than ever before.

I stopped and caught my breath, as the Ignizoi appeared on the edge of the village. I stood completely still and drank, my clothes drenched in wine.

They came up to the statues and their flames turned purple. I could see their faces in their flames. The skin was dry and deep with the lines of a face constantly drawn in extreme expressions. Their eyes were wide open. What was left of their clothes moved like ribbons in water.

Again they came up to the statues but recoiled at their very presence. They looked all around but could not see me. I think they knew I was there, but could not, perhaps would not, see me. Every time they approached the statues they were pushed back by the spitting purple.

I will give the Cinders this: they make up their minds quickly. They turned and left, running off east, towards who knows what.

I watched them leave, then took an almighty sigh, and felt slightly smug.

I turned back and a final Cinder was directly in front of me standing just the other side of the statue line. Its flame was burning purple and could see it breathing heavily, but it did not leave.

I drank the last of the wine.

It paced up and down, with the hunched shoulders of the deeply annoyed. It kept peering in just to either side of me.

“What will you do?” it spat at me, in a voice like blowing on a gas hob.

I tried not responding.

“Dammit, what will you do?”

“Stay here for a while, I reckon.”

It hissed and paced further.

“Can you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“Dammit can you feel it?”

I clutched at my stomach.

“What is it that I am feeling?”

And it came in close to me. Its fire burnt purple and angry but it stayed in close, looking right at me.

“There is a wave that sweeps ever across this planet, a towering ghost-grey wall that brings with it the final death. Most have no awareness of it, just the buffeting of its tides as it passes them by. But those who live closer to the flame: they feel it as it moves. Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“It comes for you. We can feel it in the tide of the wave.”

“Why are you chasing me?”

The Ignizoi had obviously had enough.

“You are central to a plan currently playing out across this city of catastrophic intent. And we would stop it. The quickest way to do that is kill you. You understand that, at least, don't you? The logic of your death?”

“I have no idea how you would want me to respond to that.”

“Well you need not. For now we see there is the Empty Man moving through this city. It is the Empty Man that is moving fate tonight.”

“So you are not coming for me any more?”

“It is The Empty Man that comes for you now.”

“What do you want?”

“We will use you to bring him to us. It is, I am sure you agree, the quickest way.”

“So I am bait.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

“I can still appreciate sarcasm.”

“How the hell do you know the Empty Man is after me?”

“Ask him. He approaches. I am here only to stop you running away.”

And the Cinder looked off to the side, somewhere to the west. It took a deep breath, and closed its eyes.

“It comes. My time is soon. The path of the fire. The tide of the wave. It comes for me.”

It turned back towards me.

“What will you do? When the wave comes for you? What will you do?”

“I do not know.”

“I do this. I have lived by the path of the fire. To burn true until spent. To shed light on the benighted. To give warmth to the exposed. To burn any that would extinguish the flame, and to let nothing stand in the path of the fire. I have done this.”

And it looked deep into my eyes.

“What will you do?”

I had nothing to say, but I felt a great lurching in my stomach, as if being flung from a building. I felt as if a great wave had just passed me.

And then, in a moment, as if submerged in water, The Ignizoi's fire went out before me and his skin froze and turned to stone. Then it was done and a new statue was before me in the Stone Village, still, and cold, staring right at me.

Without his fire it was now dark. Without the roaring of his flames it was so quiet. And I was left standing between statues with the Empty Man somewhere, out there, looking for me. Unseen, but getting closer.

I looked out at the darkness and… I laughed. I heard the terrible singing of the old man coming down the street. I laughed out loud and started singing along with him.

The old man started walking towards me. I yelled and I waved.

And there he was, standing next to the statue, looking at me and me looking at him and us both singing absolutely rubbish in this pitch-black street.

“How are you?”

“I'm good! It's dark all of a sudden, ain'it? Weather's gone funny.”

“It has! It has! It's good to see you!”

“What you doing in the Stone Village?”

“I must admit, I thought I was safe.”

“Why'd you want to be safe?”

“Don't we all want to be safe?”

He just smiled at that, and began to sing.

And then he stopped.

His face went slack, and blank.

And to his side a man lit a match in the darkness. He was calm, neat, slightly rounded of face in a way that smoothed out any distinguishing bone structure. He smiled and, looking at me, whispered in the old man's ear.

The old man nodded, and a change came over him. His body straightened up and he stood cleanly. His face lost all expression and he, who once juddered and grooved like dogs in a sleeping bag, stood in front of me, as if he were waiting for a train. The song fell from his lips and, without paying me any mind, simply turned around and walked calmly off into the darkness.

Then the figure turned back towards me. He raised the match to his face and put the match inside his mouth. And his entire head lit up like a lantern. The light beamed out of his eyes and out of his ears and through his thin, pallid skin.

Because he was empty right through. There was nothing inside of him.

And his shining lantern head looked at me and said:

“You'll do.”

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

Links

https://apclarke.bandcamp.com/album/the-lost-cat-podcast

thelostcat.libsyn.com

twitter.com/LostCatPod

thelostcatpodcast.tumblr.com

facebook.com/lostcatpodcast

soundcloud.com/a-p-clarke/sets/the-lost-cat-podcast

#lost cat #the lost cat podcast #lost cat podcast #transcript #podcast #audiodrama #audio drama #horror

1 note · View note

sfthearts · 6 years ago

Text

Serendipity (Part 5)

Word count: 1518

Well hello there. This part is V soft and fluffy, you’re welcome for that. This is the final part before the epilogue, which will show us what happens to our couple in the future. I have Big plans for that part so literally the second I post this, I’ll start on that.

As always I didn’t proofread so if anything doesn’t make sense shoot me a message and I’ll correct it.

K I think that’s it! Have fun!

(Y/N’s POV)

After the kiss, the two of you laid down fully on the blanket and you curled up into Brendon’s side, and he wrapped his arm firmly around you. You began absentmindedly stroking his chest as he pointed out more stars and constellations to you. Every once in a while he would lean down just enough to kiss the top of your head, and it made your stomach fill with butterflies every damn time.

For a while, you laid in a comfortable silence with him, just enjoying the feeling of being with each other. Your mind wandered as you stared up at the beautiful night sky, you thought about the boy you used to know. The one you confided in and who showed you so much, even at such a young age, about being kind and selfless. You still couldn’t believe that he was here now, laying beside you with his arm wrapped around you. You thought about what your future might hold, and Brendon’s too. He’s talented, you think, and he deserves to be a star. You wonder if he’s thinking any of the same things as you, if he’s even thought of a future with you. Of course this is brand new, but something in your gut tells you that this is it. He’s the one you’ve been waiting for. Now that you have him back, you realize you never want to let go again.

All of this floats through your mind, and before you know it, your eyes are heavy once again. Brendon’s heartbeat and rhythmic rising and falling of his chest pushing you further and further into relaxation, and you’re soon drifting off to sleep.

(Brendon’s POV)

“God, this is perfect.” You think to yourself, as you look down at the girl laying on your chest, well, at the top of her head. You notice her breathing had slowed and become deeper, you crane your neck slightly to see her face. As predicted, her eyes were closed and she was asleep. Your heart completely melts at the sight, and that she was comfortable enough to fall asleep ON you. You knew you had to wake her up, however, as it was late and her bed was probably a lot more comfortable than this. You run a hand up and down her back and softly try to coax her from sleep.

“Hey, come on sweet girl, let’s get you home. You’re so sleepy. As much as I love that you fell asleep on me, because it’s absolutely fucking adorable, we can’t sleep in a park.” You tell her as her eyes flutter open.

She gives you a sleepy smile and burrows further into your side, throwing the arm that rested on your chest over you completely and squeezing.

“You’re so comfy I don’t wanna move” She says into your side.

You laugh lightly and remove her vice grip, giving her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Come on honey, let’s go back to the car and you can sleep the whole way back.”

“Fine, on one condition.” She says, moving now so she was now looking at you. Her face a mere inch away from yours as she smiled deviously. You couldn’t help but grin back.

“What’s that, sweet girl?”

“Carry me there?” She says hopefully.

You smile and roll your eyes and sit up, still holding her.

“Anything for you.” You tell her.

She kisses your cheek in response and stretches her legs before standing and grabbing the blanket beneath you both. You find yourself staring as she dusts herself off and wonder how you got so lucky. Lucky to be in her world. You step over to her and brush some hair from her face, and tilt her chin up to look you in the eyes.

“You’re so beautiful. I really like you. A lot. I know this is fast and different but I just…” you trail off, unable to spit out the words you’ve so desperately wanted to say since you sat down earlier.

“Hey, you’re ok.” y/n says sweetly, standing taller to reach your lips and pull you into a soft kiss. You instantly relax, and she smiles into the kiss when she feels this. You pull away first and look down into her eyes, shining with pure adoration. You’re pretty sure yours are showcasing the anxiety and adrenaline now running through your veins.

“Y/n?”

“Brendon?” She says, matching your tone.

“I know it’s soon, but I know I like you and I’m pretty sure you like me back, or at least I hope you do, so that being said.. Y/N, will you um… be my girlfriend?”

Her eyes sparkle even more as she smiles and nods.

“I would be honored” she says, bringing your head down to her for another kiss.

You did indeed carry her back to the car as promised, and began the short drive back to reality. Y/n fell asleep within minutes after giving you her address, as predicted by both of you, so you decided to drive in silence and reflect on the evening. How crazy it was that you had been re-introduced by some sort of insane coincidence, and had instantly rekindled a bond you honestly never expected to share with anyone ever again. Normally, you never would have moved so quickly with someone, but it felt as if you had never missed a single day with her since the day she moved away. You never thought the saying “when you know, you know” could even be real until then, but you were never so happy to be wrong.

Y/n’s POV

You fell asleep almost immediately, so the drive back home came quickly to you. The next thing you knew, Brendon was whispering to you and softly stroking your cheek in attempts to wake you up.

“Hey honey, we’re at your apartment. At least... I hope this is your apartment..”

Your eyes flutter open, and you’re delighted to once again wake up to this sweet boy’s face smiling down at yours.

“Damn,” you think “I could definitely get used to seeing that first thing every morning.”

You stretch a little and look out the window at the tall building outside the car.

“Yep, this is me!” You tell him, and he smiles softly in response. “Is it weird of me to say I don’t want this night to end, even though I’ve fallen asleep on you so many times?” You ask with a giggle.

“Not weird at all, my dear. I don’t really want it to end either, but you’re sleepy and need rest.” He states matter-of-factly. You shrug in agreement, knowing he’s right.

“Can I walk you up? You know, to make sure you get inside okay and all.” Brendon asks with a smirk. You smile softly and nod, telling him you’d like that.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and you do the same, watching as he quickly runs to your side of the car to open the door for you.

“Thank you, good sir.” You say, taking his hand as you exit the car and stand.

You walk hand in hand with him inside the lobby and take the elevator up to your floor, stopping outside your door.

“Well, here we are.” You say, almost sadly. His empty hand moves up to your face and cups one side in his palm.

“You’re so pretty.” Brendon says, almost breathlessly. You blush and look down in response to his compliment.

“Ugh whatever, I probably look like an absolute mess right now.” You say, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ears.

“You look beautiful. Even if you think you’re an absolute mess, you’re my favorite mess.” He says, the most pure and adorable look shining in his eyes as he looks right into yours, and you think you might explode.

“Can your favorite mess have a goodnight kiss?” You ask quietly.

A grin forms on his face at your request. “I thought you’d never ask” he says, and quickly moves his lips to yours.

Regretfully, you pull apart after only a few moments.

“Text or call when you get home safe so I don’t worry about you, okay?” You tell Brendon. He nods and promises to do so.

“Oh, one thing,” he says before walking away. “Maybe we should exchange numbers?” He says, unable to contain his laughter. You can’t help but laugh with him, partly because his laugh was infectious, and partly because of the fact that you’d already moved so fast with him and still hadn’t exchanged numbers.

You put your number in his phone and send yourself a quick text from it. You give him a final hug and peck him on the lips before sending him on his way, a big smile sneaking it’s way onto your face at the thought of everything that had happened that evening.

You couldn’t wait to hear from him again, and you were overjoyed that he felt the same way about you. No pretenses, no bullshit, just pure connection and feelings, and that felt pretty damn good.

#brendon urie fluff #brendon urie fic #brendon urie #brendon urie x reader #brendon urie fanfic

20 notes · View notes

fabula-novo-mundo · 6 years ago

Text

Theonymy: On the Names of fal’Cie

The gods of Fabula Nova Crystallis (FNC) are, as the title of the mythology would suggest, multifaceted. This post will be the first in a series that attempts to analyse them from a polytheistic, specifically, a fictional or otherworld reconstructionist perspective.

Names are essential to storytelling. In the Final Fantasy series of games especially, names are drawn from many different cultures and languages, even within the same title: Nomura Tetsuya, the series’ lead character designer for the last 22 years, and one of the creative leads behind the original Fabula Nova Crystallis project, drew from Okinawan (“Yuna”, night; “Tidus”, sun), Ainu (“Wakka”, water), and Arabic (“Lulu”, pearl) while creating the characters of the Final Fantasy X series. These names often subtly allude to the positions of the characters or their future arcs in the context of the story or its themes, and understanding their etymology can frequently be illuminating.

This doesn’t hold a candle, however, to the significance of the names of gods, which describe their relationship with the world itself, and have their origins in epithets used to describe them by their worshippers. For example, the chthonic jötunn Hel, whose name derives from the Proto-germanic *haljō, from the Proto-Indo-european *kol-, “to cover/hide”, as one covers a corpse in the soil of a grave; or the Irish psychopomp an Morrígan, whose name either translates to “Great Queen” or “Phantom Queen”, as befits a goddess who manifests to doomed warriors; or Nebt-het, the netjert of death, whose name translates to “Lady of the Temple Enclosure”, describing her role in ritual.

fal’Cie

Firstly, the term “god” itself should be addressed. Often applied in english-language literature across religious traditions to describe a wide array of entities, it often fails to capture the nuance that culturally specific terms have for these entities. For example, in norse tradition, the word “god” is typically applied to the Æsir and Vanir, but not their enemies (such as the Jötnar) despite the latter often being of equal power and cosmic significance to the former two; additionally, the word often fails to describe the nuance of the word “kami” in Shinto tradition.

This word, kami, in fact is the term often used to describe the higher deities in the original japanese scripts of the Fabula Nova Crystallis franchise (this term became “god” in the english, of course), particularly concerning the most supreme living being in the mythos: Bhunivelze, the Shining God (Kagayakeru Kami), for whom the terms for lesser spirits in the mythology were considered inadequate or degrading by his historical worshippers.

However, being apathetic (at best) to the Shining One myself, i will use this term for him anyway: fal’Cie, the name for a living, material god in the various worlds of the setting[1]. In the rest of this post, and in subsequent writing, i will use the collective and singular term “fal’Cie” to refer to inorganic spirits in Fabula Nova Crystallis that are themselves descended from inorganic spirits.

The term “fal’Cie” itself deserves analysis. In the original japanese scripts, the kana for this term is ファルシ, “faruShi”, which is very nearly a correct transliteration of the english-language word “fallacy” — whose definition is of course “a mistaken belief or error in reasoning.” This will become incredibly important later when i discuss the nature of mythology and cult within the setting, but for now let it simply be noted that it is important that the term used for spirits in this world is nearly synonymous with the concept of “misconception.”

The related term “l’Cie” provides another avenue for analysis of the theonym. l’Cie, written ルシ, ruShi, are (formerly) human servants or slaves of fal’Cie. The term, especially in the original scripts, is pronounced almost exactly the same as the italian “luci”, or “light”, and when romanised, is quite clearly just the french word “ciel“ or “sky” with the last consonant shifted forward. Both of these concepts allude to the origin and master of all living fal’Cie and, indeed, all souls and Matter in the FNC, in the most exalted Lord of Light, Bhunivelze.

The fa- prefix that forms the word fal’Cie is then theorised by FNC fans to have its origins in the Latin famulus “servant,” in line with the origin of the “fa” note in solfège (Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti) from the Latin hymn Ut queant laxis. This would, fittingly, give us an etymology for the term fal’Cie that comes to something along the lines of “Servant of Light/Heaven.” Personally, i’m not sure how much merit this association actually has, convenient though it is, so i’d like to propose an alternate theory.

There is only one obvious association that the fal- prefix could have in west european languages. It has already been covered, indirectly, but bears discussing again: the word “fallacy” derives ultimately from the Latin fallere, “to deceive,” and the fal- stem in descendant romance languages still retains this association with falseness (french and italian, used in the “l’Cie” part of the word, are, of course, romance languages, which makes an italic etymology for fa(l)- the most likely). This would give “fal’Cie” the etymology “Heavenly Deception” or “Deceiving Light,” both of which could help elucidate the beings’ true natures.

It should be further noted that words in japanese containing the syllable シ (shi), which is a homonym for 死 “death,” often become associated with death by association: for example, the japanese numeral 四 “four,” also pronounced shi, is historically considered inauspicious.

[1] i am aware that in the brand change from Final Fantasy Versus XIII to Final Fantasy XV, the term “fal’Cie” was replaced with “Astral” as a term specific to the world of Eos, but insofar as these entities still exist as the crystalline descendants of the Fell Trickster Lindzei and the Hallowed Tyrant Pulse, the theonym “fal’Cie” is still correct, and i will use it when describing these entities in the context of the wider setting. The word “Astral” itself shares connotations with the celestial etymology of the original term, which hints at the Astrals’ true nature, even after the rebranding.

Pulse

Stout fashioned earth, that future might take root. — Analect I, “The Vanished Gods”

The first theonym i would like to address is the most simple. Pulse, the Terrestrial Potentate, is a male fal’Cie who is credited with shaping the physical world. Concretely, this means he is the entity responsible for the creation of, well, nearly everything that can be seen, touched, or otherwise mundanely sensed in the mortal realm.

His symbol is ten bidirectional prongs or arrows emanating from a central eye, five upwards, five downwards. In Final Fantasy XIII we find its analogue in the many-pronged double-headed spears of the Gran Pulsian l’Cie Oerba Yun-Fang, which makes it doubly clear that this symbol is supposed to be phallic, and possibly a symbol of fertility or rulership, an association strengthened by the fact that the Etro-venerators of the Kingdom of Lucis and the otherworldly leisure house Serendipity depict Hallowed Pulse as the King on their playing card sets, and give him the title “the Mighty Potentate.”

The origin of the english word “pulse” is Latin pulsus, both words to describe a beat, throb, flow or stroke. This highlights the deep connection that the Hallowed Pulse has to the mortal world and all parts of nature that lie within, as the source of and indicator for the terrestrial realm’s strength and vitality.

The etymology of pulsus can reveal more, however: pellere, to push, drive, affect, compel, expel, propel, repel, dispel, impel, strike, banish, or conquer. This helps us see the significance of the ten arrows as a symbol of force, power, domination, and divine kingship, and solidifies the Divine Pulse’s associations with violent rulership or tyranny. Pulse is very much the archetypal patriarch, and the domineering attitude of his descendant fal’Cie towards the mortals they live alongside reinforces this.

Lindzei

Sage turned mind's eye inward, seeking truth profound. — ibid.

The third and youngest offspring of Light, the etymology of “Lindzei” is much less transparent than her elder sibling’s, but by examining the Heavenly Ruler’s iconography and associations, it is possible to determine some likely candidates.

Analect II, titled “Lindzei’s Nest,” from Final Fantasy XIII, gives us the following from the perspective of a Gran Pulsian demagogue:

And lo, the viper Lindzei bore fangs into the pristine soil of our Gran Pulse; despoiled the land and from it crafted a cocoon both ghastly and unclean.

Lies spilled forth from the serpent's tongue: 'Within this shell lies paradise.' Men heard these lies and were seduced and led away.

O cursed are the fools who trust a snake and turn their backs upon the bounty of Pulse's hallowed land! For those who dwell in that cocoon are not Men, but slaves of the demon Lindzei.

Ye who honor Pulse: rise unto the heavens, and cast down the viper's nest!

The serpent imagery here would seem oddly out of place if it weren’t for the universal symbol of Lindzei used by his descendant fal’Cie and the mortal societies she patronises. Lindzei’s symbol is that of a statuesque feminine figure with exaggerated hips, arms, and a headdress, whose stylised silhouette strongly resembles a uterus and ovaries. However, seen from another angle, this extremely stylised shape also resembles the hood of a cobra. It is fitting that a fal’Cie who is so associated with duplicity and tricks would be represented by such a multifaceted symbol.

This gives us a clue to the origin of the first part of Lindzei’s name. The germanic stem lind-, seen in the english word “lindworm” (dragon) and in many other germanic words for “snake”, has its origin in the Old norse linnormr, ultimately deriving from Proto-germanic *linþaz “flexible.” This is by far and away the likeliest candidate for the etymology of the Fell Lindzei, and strengthens the already existing trickster archetype or Satanic associations the gender-ambiguous (yet highly feminised) fal’Cie possesses.

The other associations of the word *linþaz are also worth discussing. The english word “lithe” descends from *linþaz, and the concept of flexibility or bendsomeness is itself highly relevant to the nature of this uranic fal’Cie. Lindzei is, above anything else, noted for his “dark cunning,” her skill with words, and, in the history of the Etroites, is effectively considered the midwife of the mortal races, who cultivated the very first human civilisations after their Goddess’ death. Given that societies patronised by Lindzei’s offspring (e.g. Cocoon, Milites) tend towards being extremely technologically and politically advanced, as well as lacking in superstition or fear towards the natural world, this idea has significant merit.

Which brings me to the Linden tree. Originating again from *linþaz, the Linden in germanic cultures has associations with femininity, divine protection and fertility, as well as truth-seeking, jurisprudence and political deliberation in general. All these associations are relevant to Lindzei, who above all his siblings is associated with the political life of humanity, and to whose followers is the true salvator and protector of the mortal peoples from nature or Pulse’s violent tyranny.

This leaves only the suffix -zei, pronounced “zeɪ” as in “say”. In fact, the word “say” — being of ancient germanic origin in *sagjaną, whose descendants are frequently pronounced as “z” (e.g. german sagen, dutch zeggen (past singular zei)) — is my personal best guess as to the actual etymology. Lindzei being so strongly associated with language and society, it seemed natural to me that this would be alluded to in her name.

Overall, this would give an etymology for the theonym that comes to something along the lines of “Speaking Serpent,” very fitting for a Lucifer-esque trickster figure.

In Analect VIII of Final Fantasy XIII, Lindzei is given an additional epithet “the Succubus,” which strengthens the Trickster/Satanic archetype associations, and yet further feminises the fal’Cie who is so demonised by devotees of Hallowed Pulse.

In Serendipity and on Eos, playing cards depict Lindzei as the Jack, with a caption describing him as “the Solemn Ruler,” who is “commanding from his throne on high.” This solidifies the uranic and political associations that the fal’Cie has.

Etro

Fool desired naught, and soon was made one with it. — Analect I, “The Vanished Gods”

For the Infernal Goddess, who is barely acknowledged by most mortal cultures in the setting, the problem of naming is particularly pertinent. To most peoples, She is simply Death, the embodiment of their mortality — but to those of Her children (for all mortals are born from Her broken corpse) who venerate Her, She is also known as “Her Providence”. This epithet is in fact the only name by which She is known specifically in the version of Eos depicted in the rebranded Final Fantasy XV, where the remnants of Her crystalline soul provided the Lucis Caelum[2] dynasty with its magic.

The epithet “Providence” of course alludes to Her gift (or curse) of prophecy, and associations with probability/entropy — misfortune, and prudent preparation to stave it off in particular.

Given that the Crystal of Lucis is referred to as the soul of the planet Eos itself, and yet is also termed the “Light of Providence” by the Astrals, it is possible that “Eos” is in fact itself another epithet for Her Providence Etro. Eos, originally greek ἠώς, means “Dawn” and is also the name used for the hellenic thea of the Dawn herself. This word ultimately derives from the Proto-Indo-european *h₂éwsōs of the same meaning.

It may seem counterintuitive for a Goddess of the Underworld to be referred to as the Dawn personified, but it is worth noting that She is also associated with entropy and disaster and yet is still called Her Providence. As the Lady of Chaos, She may bring the dawn if She so chooses by drawing the darkness back into the Unseen Realm, and in fact this is the role She plays as the Queen of Valhalla and by protecting the people of Eos from the Starscourge (which is a manifestation of the Unseen Chaos).

Like many death deities in our world, it is possible that Her true name is so rarely uttered because of this fal’Cie’s deathly nature, and how tied She is to destruction, chaos and entropy in general — it is not uncommon for such terrible spirits to often be referred to with euphemisms to avoid invoking either their wrath or their destructive natures. Surprisingly, one thing both Pulsian and Lindzeian cultures agree on is their fear of or even hatred for this entity.

Unlike Her sibling fal’Cie, She is entirely absent from the mortal realm and Her influence can only be felt through the chthonic Unseen Realm which awaits Her children between death and rebirth. Also unlike Fell Lindzei and Hallowed Pulse, Her Providence bore no fal’Cie of Her own, as She was granted no divine gifts in life.

The concept of the Unseen Realm will be revisited later in this series, but for now let it simply be noted that She is depicted as the Queen on playing cards created by Her devotees, and referred to on the writing below the illustration as “the Veiled Goddess.” Personally, i believe this epithet refers to mourning veils, as well as the veil between the Visible and Unseen Realms which is Death — i.e., “Veiled Goddess” is a euphemistic manner of describing Her nature as the Dead and Death Goddess.

The actual name of this fal’Cie (if indeed She can be considered a fal’Cie alongside Her kin) is not even alluded to until the very, very, very end of the post-game in Final Fantasy XIII, and outside its two direct sequels Her name is even then seldom referenced except euphemistically. There are many possible reasons for this, but that’s a topic for another post.

Children of Hallowed Pulse scour earth, searching substance for the Door. Those of Fell Lindzei harvest souls, combing ether for the same. So have I seen.

The Door, once shut, was locked away, with despair its secret key; sacrifice, the one hope of seeing it unsealed.

When the twilight of the gods at last descends upon this world, what emerges from the unseeable expanse beyond that Door will be but music, and that devoid of words: the lamentations of the Goddess Etro, as She sobs Her song of grief.

— Analect XIII, “Fabula Nova Crystallis”

Etro, written エトロ (Etoro) in kana, has an extremely ambiguous etymology, as is noted by several fans of the setting. i will list what i consider to be the likeliest possibilities here, and describe the reasoning behind each as best i can.

Firstly is the french être ”to be,” triply relevant due to the presence of french and other italic languages in the FNC’s theonymy already; the nature of the Veiled Goddess Etro as mother to all human-kind, midwife of all re-born human souls, and as She who endows mortals with the formless heart that delineates us from our fal’Cie cousins; and, lastly, due to a possible connection with the etymology of Her cosmic antithesis, the Shining God Bhunivelze, which will be covered in the next section.

Second is the italian tetro “gloomy”/”grim,” which has obvious connections to Veiled Etro’s chthonic nature as She resides in the perpetual twilight of the Unseen Realm of Death.

Third, the Breton etre “betwixt,” whose etymology is entirely distinct yet is geographically proximate to the previous french. Veiled Etro, powerless in the world of Her birth, was granted a power beyond any living fal’Cie in the Immortal Realm of Chaos, and used this power to grant this primordial force to Her mortal children in a perpetual cycle of death and rebirth, between one world and the other. Thus, the concept is relevant to Her nature.

Fourthly is the Proto-Indo-european *kʷetwóres “four,” an association that might be clearer when examining the numeral’s descendants, but which i am fond of as a potential etymology for Her Providence due to the association that the number has with death in japan, as discussed previously. The reconstructed *kʷetwóres becomes Latin quattuor, italian quattro, greek τετρα- (tetra-), Proto-balto-slavic *ketur-, and many others whose stems all resemble the name “Etro.”

Fifthly is the italian etra “heaven,” ultimately derived (via italian etere) from greek αἰθήρ (aether, transliterated into japanese kana as エーテル, “ēteru,” which is remarkably close to “Etoro”) which is a good way of describing the formless fluid nature of the Chaotic realm over which Her Providence Etro presides.

Last, but certainly not least, is the option that i personally find the likeliest: the Latin ceterus, or greek ἕτερος (heteros), both of which mean “other one,” both descended from the Proto-Indo-european suffix *-(e)teros — a suffix which means “one that is especially more than [prefix],” making fundamentally important word stems such as *ḱe- (here) or *sem- (one), into a general term for “that which is distinct from this.” This is incredibly important to understanding the Veiled Lady, who has largely been defined by being set apart from every other fal’Cie in Her lack of godliness, Her dominion over Chaos, Her cosmic opposition to the source of all living fal’Cie, and most notably, Her total absence in human culture or the majority of historical accounts concerning the world’s fal’Cie. Etro is the Great Other who is set apart from wider society, ostracised, scapegoated, and painted as a childish Fool or terrifying monster, regardless of cultural context or era.

Etro’s symbol is quite mysterious, as befits the Veiled Goddess. Similar to the etymology of Her name, there are many possible interpretations of Her sign.

The most obvious might be the image of a sprouting seed, which fits Her rebirth function and also matches the possible french etymology être.

The second is that of an eyeball cut in half longways, pointing downwards, which matches Her associations with prophecies and visions, as well as the world below. Etro’s Gate, the other of Her prominent symbols, which is the Door of Souls through which the dead and newly-reborn must pass to enter or exit the Unseen Realm, is also, notably, in the shape of an eye as seen from the front.

The silhouette also somewhat resembles an avian head viewed from the front, with the eyes near the base of the image, and this has immense importance to Her avian associations (the presence of (white — possibly swan) feathers is Her single most important omen/symbol after the Door of Souls). The softly-thinning curved prongs arguably resemble feathers themselves, or perhaps multiple sets of wings stretched upwards to the sky.

The fourth thing to note is the sphere of something fluid at the heart of whatever the image is depicting, which represents an organic flow of some kind, most likely the primordial Chaos that the Unseen Realm and the hearts of Her children are composed of. Within this dark fluid seems to be concealed some sort of staff or spike, which might represent a concealed blade or other weapon of some sort. Either way, this strengthens the already existing associations Her Providence has with concealment.

It might also possibly speak to the twin martial and spiritual functions, or, in DnD-esque Final Fantasy terms, physical and magical power — two things that are extremely relevant to Her Providence, who is so delighted by contests of violence. The fact that this dark fluid and the weapon concealed within are surrounded by the husk or wings/feathers of the symbol could either be an allusion to the Chaos that lies at the heart of every mortal (and Etro Herself), and the Unseen Chaos that Etro is charged with keeping at bay to preserve the Visible World.

[2] Note the connection to italian luci and french ciel here in the Latin Lucis Caelum, which are both referenced in the theonym “fal’Cie.”

Bhunivelze

Luminous lamented, for creation spiraled unto doom. — Analect I, “The Vanished Gods”

This supreme fal’Cie of light, “the god who rules all things,” and “holds the world in his palm” is in fact primarily referred to not by name, but simply as “God,” singular, monotheistic and absolute. He is also given many epithets related to light and the sun, such as “the Shining God,” or simply “Luminous.” All fal’Cie depicted in the setting, and thus, all Matter itself — everything that doesn’t stem from Chaos, to be clear — stem from this being’s great, near-absolute power as the self-made centre of all existence.

But his etymology is much less transparent than his realm. There are only a few narrow possibilities i have been able to find, and they are even then only tentative, so of the five entities discussed here i am most likely to revisit the Shining One at a later date.

“Bhuni-” may have an origin in the Latin bonus “good”/”right”, whose romance-language descendants often mutated the word into bun- stem words, all associated with correct morality. This has a credible link to Shining Bhunivelze’s associations with purification and correct action.

The second option i find more credible, myself: Proto-Indo-european *bʰuH- “to become”[3], which becomes Proto-germanic *beuną “to become” (from whence the english “be”/”been”), Kurdish bûn “to be,” Sanskrit भूमन् (bhū́man) “world,” भू (bhū́) “earth”/”matter”/”world,” and particularly भूमि (bhū́mi) “limit”/”extent”/”foundation”/”earth.” As Bhunivelze is the foundation of everything that can be seen in the material realm, and possesses absolute control over all visible Matter, his name being to do with the world itself, or the concept of limits/extents, or even matter/substance itself, would be extremely fitting.

The concept of Bhūmi is particularly relevant. The word represents the earth element in Hinduism, and is embodied in the devi of the same name who is analogous to “Mother Earth” and is also known as Prithvi; however, the term Bhūmi is used differently in Mahayana Buddhism. Within Mahayana-thought, the bhūmis are the ten[4] stages of attainment that must be passed in order to reach bodhi, or enlightenment. This concept is most certainly relevant to the self-declared most enlightened being in all creation.

“-velze” requires some more work. In katakana, his name is written ブーニベル (Būniberuze), which could help with finding more candidates.

Firstly, the dutch/Middle german vels(e) (plural velzen) “rock” — it is arguably a stretch, but i think it bears mentioning due to the fact that the Lord Bhunivelze does in fact have associations with stone/mineral — not just in that he is the god of all solid Matter (something that i will discuss later in the series), but that he is associated with crystalline structures in particular. In Final Fantasy XIII-2, we are given the following Oracle of Etro, which is the first time the Shining One is actually referred to by name:

In the physical world, it contains within its form endless chaos. By the will of the deities, it gives birth to all living things. I speak of crystal.

The eternal dream world of the crystal lies within the Unseen World. Even the gods long to find their way to that place. In all crystal, the heart that shines most brightly is called Bhunivelze.

— “Bhunivelze’s Sleep,” Yeul’s Confessions

With Proto-germanic *beuną this would give Bhunivelze an approximate etymology of “Stone Coming Into Being,” “Stone Appearing,” or “Growing Stone.”

Second is the Hindi वली (valī) “lord”/”saint”, which is even more of a stretch than vels to be honest, but is worth mentioning. This would give him an etymology akin to “Lord of the Universe.”

The last guess i have for this etymology is the english “verse,” from Latin versus, based instead on the original japanese pronunciation. The reason i think this is plausible is due to the Shining One’s connections to the Biblical God, whose words speak creation into being. This would, with Latin bonus or Proto-Indo-european *bʰuH-, give the Shining One an etymology something along the lines of “Good Verse” or “Verse Coming Into Being,” both of which are quite fitting.

We can go one step further from “verse,” however: If we take Proto-Indo-european *bʰuH-, and the original japanese pronunciation, we can form Bhu-niverse, which is to say, the english word “universe” (ultimately derived from Latin ūniversus, “turned into one”) — a lot more plausible given the numerous Sanskrit bhū́- stem words listed above meaning “entire world.” This is the likeliest etymology for Shining Bhunivelze, in my opinion, and gives us a final meaning of “the World Coming Into Being.” This concept is incredibly relevant to the nature of Bhunivelze and Matter in general in Fabula Nova Crystallis, and will be discussed at length later on.

[3] Here the possible connection to the speculated french etymology être for Etro, also “to be,” which would highlight their shared cosmic significance as the ultimate light and dark principles.

[4] The number ten is incredibly important to the Shining One, who bears ten wings in his full manifestation and whose Latin-alphabet name (not coincidentally, the Latin alphabet is sacred to him) is composed of ten characters.

Mwynn

Maker forged fal'Cie, from fragments Maker's own. — Analect I, “The Vanished Gods”

Barely referred to except by the hints of hints even in the most hidden parts of the Fabula Nova Crystallis video-games, the majority of our knowledge about this most ancient of deities comes from the 2011 Square Enix video describing the central mythology of the entire setting.

Mwyn is a Welsh word with a dual meaning, the more common of which is neglected by FNC fans, so i will cover the less common first.

Mwyn is an adjective meaning mild, tender or gentle, which alludes to the Deepest Mwynn’s role as Mother to all creation, and particularly in raising Her offspring Shining Bhunivelze (in the Mortal Realm) and Veiled Etro (in the Unseen Realm) and instructing them on their respective cosmic positions as the wellspring of all Matter and the shepherd of all Chaos. Unfortunately, the etymology of this word is unclear, but it might possibly originate from Proto-Indo-european *men- “to think.”

Mwyn also means “ore” or “mineral.” Similar to the hypothetical bhū́mi and vels etymology for the Shining One Bhunivelze, this is relevant to our Deepest Mother Mwynn as the ancestral crystal of every soul and heart and speck of Matter that exists, as far as can be known. The etymology for this word is not much better-attested, though likely ultimately descends from Proto-Celtic *mēnis, meaning the same thing, and ultimately from Proto-Indo-european *(s)mēy(H)- “to cut”/”to hew.” The concept of cutting/hewing crystal is central to the almost parthenogenesis-like method by which fal’Cie (and, indeed, the ancestral mortals born from the Veiled Goddess Etro’s blood) are created, so i ultimately find both definitions of mwyn to be relevant here.

Unfortunately, there is only one depiction of the Deepest Mother available for analysis, but unlike Her chthonic daughter, who is frequently depicted badly wounded, sleeping/comatose or dying, She is depicted with Her body and all Her limbs intact; and within a great tapering double helix, a great disc — likely the universe — lies beneath the soles of her feet. This symbol is ultimately the logo used for the Fabula Nova Crystallis setting as a whole, and it warms my heart to know this long-forgotten Goddess receives some recognition in this form.

In time the gods departed, leaving all by their hands wrought.

Fal'Cie were as Man forsaken, orphans of Maker absconded.

— Analect I, “The Vanished Gods”

i dedicate this etymological analysis to The Dead Goddesses: to my Veiled Infernal Queen, Etro, and to my Deepest Ancestral Mother, Mwynn. We stand guard over your legacies still.

#alterpagan #pop culture paganism #fabula nova crystallis #final fantasy paganism #final fantasy kin #ff paganism #ffxiii #ffxv #fft0 #Lindzei #Etro #Bhunivelze #Mwynn #ffxiii kin #ffxv kin #fft0 kin #final fantasy xiii kin #final fantasy xv kin #final fantasy type 0 kin

36 notes · View notes

sopewriters · 8 years ago

Text

Serendipity.

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Fluff (with slightly smutty undertones at the end) and a fail attempt at humor; Soulmate!AU where anything your soulmate does to their body reflects on your own

Word Count: 2.6K

You’d never had a problem with the whole ‘soulmate’ deal, unlike some of your more passionate colleagues. It’d never sparked up much of a reaction in you, because honestly, who had the time to actually care? Besides, it did turn out to be rather amusing, most of the time.

Like when you were in the middle of discussing an important project with your professor, for example, and you felt something ticklish on the inside of your arm. You’d always been susceptible to even the slightest brush of the fingers, so you bit your lip hard to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

When you finally got to leave, you made a pit stop at the bathroom, to get a napkin or something to wipe your cut lip—go figure, you’d managed to bite it that hard—and you looked down at your wrist: the source of your problems. Looking at the squiggles on it, you felt like you were supposed to get angry, but honestly, the basic math problems drawn crudely with black ink made you laugh out loud. Sure, you got some strange looks from, like, one person for doing that, but you could tell your soulmate had to be hilarious.

You looked again, unable to resist smiling when you saw—and felt—more black ink being scribbled furiously onto your delicate skin. Your soulmate must have been having a math test or something soon; why else would they have been writing all that on their hand? Though, really, what an amateur move.

You took great delight in re-telling the story to your friends later, but it seemed like they’d reached the point where they were just tired of hearing you talk about your soulmate all the time. But really, they seemed great—and you really, really wanted to meet them. It’s just…you had no idea how.

Who knew a single conversation could change it all?

You were sitting in your tiny room, dark save for the glow of the lamp cast onto your features. It was a cozy setting, undoubtedly, and you’d been preparing extremely studiously for an interview for an internship at a pretty well-reputed company. Honestly, they only took the best, so it was a long shot—but you had to try.

There was something ticklish on your palm then, and you startled at that, staring incomprehensively at the light strokes of blue ink coloring your hand. Looking closely, you could see that they were numbers—for what, you weren’t sure—and, as you counted, you could see that there were enough digits to—no.

Your stomach dropped. It couldn’t possibly have been a phone number. You were overreacting, that’s all. But when you saw a winking emoticon drawn messily next to it, your heart stopped beating for a second. An immeasurable anger began to fill you up, but you felt a little better when the numbers began to fade; your soulmate was probably trying to rub the pen marks out. When they reappeared, however, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your fingers scrabbled desperately for a pen or something on your desk, and when you finally managed to acquire one, you uncapped it and began to furiously scribble onto your own palm, under the phone number.

I’d appreciate it if you could NOT get numbers while you’re out, thanks.

Right after you wrote that, you stared for a moment at your palm, before sighing loudly, and flopping over your bed. You were such an idiot, why would you do that? Just as you were about to go to the bathroom—to wash it off—you paused, feeling the scratch of a pen against your palm.

that was an acident I promise.

And it figured that, of course, he couldn’t even spell ‘accident’ correctly. And, normally, while you’d be entirely perturbed by these sorts of mistakes, you found yourself smiling. Inexplicably, there was just something about them that was just really, really appealing.

You quickly backtracked to your desk, grabbing the first thing you found—a pink highlighter—and wrote back just as fast.

You’d better hope so ;)

You ended up sitting the entire night, writing to the soulmate you’d never spoken to your entire life. You were lucky your interview wasn’t the next day or something, else you’d have been screwed. Still, something told you that, even if it were, you would’ve done the exact same thing.

gud morning :)

Bad English skills aside, you doubted you could ever get sick of them, at this rate. Not that that was a particularly bad thought.

Of course, you had to jinx it.

Approximately three days later, you woke up with two hours to spare before your interview. You’d kept everything ready the night before, for once; you were really, really on edge for the appointment. You never would have been able to forgive yourself otherwise.

You yawned, rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and padded to the bathroom to brush your teeth because, goddamn it, your breath stank and you nearly managed to trip over the air in the process. You swatted a lock of hair from your eyes, sleepily squeezing the toothpaste out onto the brush, before capping it and delivering the brush straight home, as your eyes sleepily found the mirror. You looked a little different today, and you wondered why briefly, before your eyes widened and you spit out your toothpaste, nearly missing the sink.

Oh fuck. Fucking, fuckity motherfuck.

A scream erupted from your mouth and you backed away from the mirror, heart beating with terror. There was no way…this wasn’t happening to you. Not today. Not today, of all days!

You looked back at the mirror, eyes shakily zeroing in on the problem.

Your hair was green. You had green hair. Like broccoli, spinach, zucchini. D-Dark green hair. Which wouldn’t be a problem if, say, you didn’t have an interview in less than two fucking hours goddamn it all to hell.

You were ashamed to admit that you actually broke down then. This job…it meant everything to you, and if you lost it because your soulmate couldn’t keep their creative tendencies to themselves, you’d never be able to live with yourself.

“W-What do I do?!” You screamed in anguish, but there was no answer. Of course not, you were the only one there. But, if your soulmate were there too, they’d be dead on the ground in two seconds flat.

You stomped outside, angrily grabbing a pen and wiping the tears brusquely from your eyes as you uncapped and began to write.

WHY IS MY HAIR FUCKING GREEN YOU GIANT FUCKING PRICK!????

I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU THAT I HAD AN INTERVIEW TODAY AND WHAT DO YOU DO?!

There was no answer, and you waited, still stewing in your anger, for five whole minutes before swearing under your breath and going back to the bathroom to shower. There was nothing you could do about it by then, you couldn’t just get your hair re-dyed so quickly, because the office was at least half-an-hour away.

You could only hope that the interview panel would be understanding of dumb as fuck soulmates who couldn’t wait for a single fucking day. You really hated them, whoever they were, at that moment.

If you found them—no, when—they’d be in for a world of pain.

You walked awkwardly into the building, shuffling your way to the receptionist, who was openly gawking at your hair.

“Um, I’m here for an interview.” You said meekly, hand coming to rest on your head as though to hide it from her prying eyes, “F-For the intern position?”

“A-Ah, yes,” The receptionist stopped looking so shell-shocked and managed to answer, “You can just walk straight down the hallway and take the elevator to the fifth floor. There’s only one room there anyway.”

“Sorry for staring, by the way.” She smiled knowingly at you, making you flush uncomfortably, “Soulmate troubles, huh?”

“Yeah.” You admitted, before thanking her.

“Don’t worry too much,” She said, in parting, “I don’t think the Boss will mind too much.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” You said back, feeling a tiny bit grateful for the attempt, “Thanks.”

You managed to find the elevator, walking inside with an older man with purple hair, whose eyes widened in shock when they passed over your own kept locks.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, quickly jamming the button for the sixth floor in order to preoccupy yourself. The man only smiled at that, before shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” His voice was deep, which didn’t match his dimples, “I’ve got a bad hair day too.”

The elevator came to a halt, and he nodded once at you before getting off. You just nodded back, mainly because you didn’t know what else to do, and slumped against the wall comfortably once the doors closed. You still had three more floors to go, and you spent the entire time sweating on the inside of your palms, wondering just how much you could fuck up the interview.

The doors chimed, and you began to walk out shakily, only to fall back with an oof!

“Shit, watch where you’re going!” Someone spoke, but a hand grasped yours to pull you up despite the words. You swayed dangerously on your feet for a moment, hearing a sharp inhale, before your vision came back into focus and caught a flash of green.

You froze, staring at him. He stared back, brown eyes wide with surprise, and hair—ridiculously disheveled, green hair—just falling into his face.

A beat passed with just this and, before you could even process it, you delivered the hardest punch to your soulmate that you could muster.

“Ah, wait!” He cried, seeing your enraged eyes and, hotness be damned, he didn’t deserve not being hit, “R-Really, wait, I’m sure we can talk this out!”

“Talk… this out?” You intoned, smiling scarily at him and delighting in his frightened balk, “You want…to talk about this abomination?”

You held up a lock of your hair as you grinned, before grabbing your folder from under your arm and whacking him on the head with it.

“You. Complete. IDIOT!!” You raged, smacking him repeatedly and delighting in his pained cries as you tackled him to the floor, “I CANNOT GO TO THE INTERVIEW LIKE THIS—”

“A-Actually, you can, if you’d just listen to me—”

“BUT NOW I HAVE TO BECAUSE YOU WERE AN IDIOT—”

“Y/N, maybe you should let me complete my sentence and—”

“THAT’S NOT TO MENTION…Wait, how’d you know my name?!” You froze, staring at the handsome man beneath you in shock, folder dropping from your hand to hit him on the face one last time.

The man sighed, picking off the folder and handing it back to you, before getting to his feet and dusting off his expensive-looking trousers. You felt a brief guilt flash through you for just attacking him out of the blue, but he had just messed up your entire life.

“You know what,” He rolled his eyes, before pressing the button for the elevator and gesturing at it when the doors slid open, “Get inside.”

“What? But my interview’s on this floor!” You protested, letting him drag you in by the hand, “Hey, wait!”

“Your interview,” He said exasperatedly, “Is on the fifth floor. This is the sixth floor.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks warmed, and you looked abashedly at the ground as the man punched in the correct button, “So…this is probably not how you expected our first meeting to go.”

You wanted to hit yourself right after saying it; why did you always babble when you were nervous?

“Definitely not.” He agreed easily, surprising you, before smirking at you and goodness, that was hot, “But I guess I can’t exactly blame you, babe.”

“Pet names now, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to get over your embarrassment, “Sweetheart?”

“Yuck.” The man wrinkled his nose at the name, making you laugh, “Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

“My name.” He said slowly, “It’s Jungkook.”

“Oh.” You realized, and the embarrassment rushed back in one swell swoop, “Sorry.”

“No problem…” His mouth curled upward, and your cheeks heated up again, “Sweetheart.”

The elevators dinged then, and he was out of the sliding doors in no time, barely escaping your angry huff. You frowned as you followed him, arms crossed with your folder carefully tucked to your side; who knew soulmates could be this annoying?

He led you to a set of doors, before lounging in one of the chairs and gesturing at the seat next to him. You stared at him weirdly, before doing the same.

“Shouldn’t I…y’know, be going inside?” You asked the obvious question, “I am here to get a job, y’know, since you seem to have forgotten.”

He winced at the unsubtle dig, but answered anyway, playing with one of the rings on his fingers.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He met your eyes, “I found you.”

“More like pissed me off,” You muttered angrily, though something in you warmed at the sentiment, “Don’t you actually need to work? Or is your Boss totally okay with you hanging around a job-seeker?”

His lips formed a sly, secretive smile at that. “I think he’d be perfectly alright with it.”

You didn’t get to answer him, because the doors were thrust open, and a meek man shuffled out, looking entirely dejected. The sight made your mouth run dry, because what if that was you in a few minutes? What if it was you looking so sad and broken and—

“Calm down.” You startled when he whispered into your ear, hot breath landing against the side of your throat, “You’ll do fine.”

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered out, and a serious looking official came out and gestured you inside. As he did, though, his eyes widened.

“Ah, CEO-nim.” He bowed his head respectfully, and you whirled around, to see Jungkook do the same, “What brings you here?”

“Just guiding a little lost lamb to you guys.” He smiled at your look of shock, before nodding once more and making his way back, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll see you later, then, Y/N-ah.”

You couldn’t speak for five whole seconds, and it was only because of the official’s impatient clearing of his throat that you even remembered you were supposed to actually walk into the office, not stand outside it looking like a child who couldn’t find their mother.

You couldn’t believe it. The guy who couldn’t even spell properly, who dyed his hair green to find you, who drew randomly on himself whenever he felt like… the guy who was your soulmate, was also, very coincidentally, your potential boss.

No. Fucking. Way.

Except it was confirmed, as you stepped out of the room, holding the contract under your arm. It was confirmed as you shakily walked into the elevator. It was confirmed as you waited for the elevator to lurch upwards. And, it was definitely confirmed when you walked into the CEO’s office and saw Jungkook lounging lazily in an office chair.

“Got the job, did you?” He raised an eyebrow, and beckoned you forward, “Good, because I’ve got another one for you.”

And hell, if that didn’t sound like a proposition but, as he pressed a button on his remote and the glass blacked out, you found that you didn’t mind so much.

It would be interesting, you supposed, to see the look on his face when you pulled at those annoying green locks of hair, anyway.

Written By: Admin Midnight (who’s definitely gonna fail at life)

#kwritersnet #kreativewritersnet #bangtan bookclub #BangtanWriters-Net #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts soulmate au #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook soulmate #jungkook smut #bts jungkook smut #1k #2k

4K notes · View notes