#and how beautiful they would be with white hair and wrinkles and age spots

[idyllcy]

fun to believe, but they always leave

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Smut. (not explicitly described but still), teacher/student, immortal/reincarnated mortal

Summary: The sun chases after the moon for eternity.

What's the point of living?

You're not quite sure yourself.

Friedrich Nietzsche would argue that there is no point in living. He claims the question is meaningless since we're in no position to determine whether our lives hold value, and stepping outside of the process of existence to answer is impossible. It's not like we're some omnipotent being watching all of this unfold. Nietzsche had even claimed that god was dead. You assume that may be where you end up one day. Philosophy majors were just as ancient as those who created it were. All your professors resembled stone statues put up in colleges. What was with them and having beards? But even if you pondered the universe for ages, you would never understand it. Love was just as complex yet, so much prettier to study.

As you step into the classroom again, you spot a new face among the same group of students that you studied in that class with. He's pretty. Yet, his hair is so white that you could almost mistake him as a teacher if it weren't for the fact that he had not a single wrinkle on his skin. You wonder if he's a student-teacher here. It wasn't uncommon that they taught classes, yet you're surprised at the male teaching a course on love of all things. He has pretty green eyes. You wonder if he could be aphrodite with how pretty he was. But alas, beauty was subjective.

You sit down at a desk, laptop out. The rest of the class files in, and the male you had been staring at steps to the podium. Resting his books onto the podium, he pulls out a laptop and a stack of papers. You tilt your head in confusion.

"Welcome to CAMSUA 428 - Love Eternally," The student-teacher hums. "I'm the professor for this course, Professor Komaeda. If you're taking this course, you're either a psych major, deliriously in love with someone, or you came to learn how to manipulate someone into loving you. I'm not one to judge," He pauses. "Did any of you read about me on rate your professor?"

"Yes! Your course sounds like a lot of fun!"

"I'm glad to hear that," he smiles. "I'm also a lot of analysis and everything. This class ranges from neuroscience of a person in love to the body habits of a person in love. I cover everything."

"Prof, are you married?"

"No," He shakes his head. "Unfortunately, the soul I am waiting for has not returned."

"But you wear a ring from on your ring finger?"

On Komaeda's ring finger rests a flower ring set in resin. The flowers are a little dried out, but it's still pretty. "Ah, that's from a childhood sweetheart."

"How old are you?!"

"That's a secret," Komaeda winks at them, a finger over his lips. "Wanna guess?"

"Twenty-eight!"

"Thirty!"

"427!" You blurt out. You're not sure why that number came to mind specifically, but it's left your lips before you can even think it through. Your professor looks familiar. You don't know why. He looks like he's barely in his 20s; why the hell would he be 427-

Komaeda stares at you, and he smiles. "All excellent guesses. Though, I wonder why one of you know how old I actually am."

"H-huh?!"

"Just kidding!" Komaeda laughs.

The light in the room shines on him in the center, causing him to stand in a nearly holy glow. He's pretty. You see the way the other students in the class stare at him in awe. Now that you take a closer look at him, the top buttons on his royal green button-up are open, his white turtleneck resting underneath. His sleeves are folded up to his elbow, and a gold watch rests on his left wrist. He stares at the class as he shifts his weight onto one leg; you take note of his cuffed black jeans and the skull chain hanging off the belt loop. He's wearing... are those combat boots? His hair is nicely combed, yet it had a sense of madness to it. Actually, it doesn't look that combed upon second look. The round glasses on his nose have little chains dangling off of the sides, and he smiles at the class. He looks straight out of a movie.

"Say, Y/n-chan, you didn't say that on purpose, did you? Think I'm too old for you?"

You're caught off guard when he calls you by name.

"I know a handful of you by name; please don't feel creeped out," Komaeda chuckles. "Pull out your syllabuses. We're going over that today."

Professor Komaeda resembles the moon almost. The way his voice is breathy despite young, and the way his eyes always look so distant while teaching. His voice resembles those of the sirens. He pulls and lulls you closer and closer to him. You kind of wish this was a lecture class instead of a discussion class. You stop caring when Komaeda flashes a pretty smile at you though. Oh, he's pretty. You wonder how old he was. There had been rumors that this year's professor was completely new instead of the old one. Apparently, last year's professor left after his wife was transferred to another school. But then again, according to the front office, he just took a year off last year. You wonder what kind of professor gets privilege like that.

You don't find it in yourself to care. You're much too focused on the way your professor looks no older than you. You'd fuck him. He doesn't even look like the hot professor in the dilf way; he just looks like a college preppy boy who ends up railing you stupid after the first date. You wonder if that's what he is. The corners of your lips curl into a smile unconsciously, and your professor takes notice. He doesn't comment on it, but turns to continue rambling about the syllabus. You want to kiss him breathless. You wonder how you're having such awful thoughts about your professor of all people, but you can't deny that you're not the only one who wants him in more ways than one.

"During the first quarter, we study the science behind love. Neuroscience is strange, and for the basic gist of it, your brain is royally screwed over when you're in love with someone," He chuckles. "Then, in the second quarter, we dive into the works of the works of Solaria and all the others. According to the artist, each reincarnation of theirs, no matter how far away, always found themself back at the museum their lover built them in their first life. It's kind of funny watching that relative find them after a century or two. Though, those are only rumors. Reincarnation is rare, if not completely a bluff."

"Ah, is it the artist Solaris? The one who has a recurring theme with the sky?"

"Correct!" Komaeda smiles. "Mi-chan, was it? Solaris is one of many souls that reincarnate and continue to pursue art. Have you been to the museum dedicated to them?"

"I have!" Another student calls. "Their art pieces through each life are gorgeous! And that portrait is so jaw-droppingly gorgeous! Professor, you kind of look like the portrait."

"I've been told," Komaeda smiles. "But that's not the point, because we're going to admire another piece of art by them. We're studying the man in the stars, not the man in the sun."

"The stars?"

"This one," Komaeda presents a photo on the board.

It looks like Komaeda. The blue of the night seems to cover him in a thin veil, the paleness of his eyes are so vibrant. The boy looks sick, yet he looked elated. The smile on his face and the finger pointed at the moon. The painting seems to come to life; the excited cheering of the boy rings through your ears. Eyes wide with fascination, you can almost hear his words. "There; there! Doesn't it resemble me? Right? Cuz I'm your moon?"

"Yes." You mumble under your breath. "It does."

Komaeda glances at you, and he chuckles. "But of course, this piece is compared to the sun piece later on. That one's in their museum, so we'll be going over it later on. There's a lot of parallelism in their works. It seems as if everything they draw reflects the stars."

"I heard their muse was a boy they grew up with."

"It was," Komaeda smiles. "You see him in a lot of their works, if not all of them. All of the paintings include him and two others, if not three. The pink haired girl, the brown haired boy, and then the black haired male. The three of them are always trailing behind the white haired boy. Other times, they sit on a cloth, a picnic set with them. The three of them are always smiling, the black haired boy only cracking a smile occasionally. They looked peaceful. Even in the scenery paintings under the stars or sun, there was never once when they weren't smiling."

The students stare in awe. "Solaria grew up without parents as an orphan who painted everything they saw. The paint they used was hand made at first, the majority of the colors were things you could find in nature. Eventually, they would meet their sponsor out in a field under the moon. It's anticlimatic in a way, but that sponsor would eventually grow to become their muse."

"How romantic!"

"Exactly!" Komaeda laughs. "So then the reason this class focuses on Solaria's works so much is precisely because of how they only loved one person in their life. There was no other in their relationship. Of course, other than them, we also cover all the other people. We just so happen to cover Solaria the majority of quarter two."

"Professor are you in love with them?"

"Maybe," Komaeda smiles. "After all, their life was quite the fairytale."

Komaeda is pretty. You don't know if he's caught on, but you haven't been paying attention for ages by now. It's funny. He looks exactly like Solaria's muse, the only thing different was the hair. Well, it's the same shade. You wonder if he's aware of that. Maybe he was addicted to the artist because they had painted someone who looked like him centuries ago. You ponder all the possibilities, but you don't worry about it too much. The content of the syllabus goes in one ear and out the other. You miss the entire syllabus. You don't even know that he left homework today. Oops.

Komaeda stares at the clock, and he smiles. "I'll dismiss you all early today. Go get some rest before your next class."

You blink out of focus, and then stare at the clock.

A handful of students rush out firsthand, and you slip your laptop back into your tote bag.

"Ah, Y/n," Professor Komaeda smiles. "Did you catch anything I said in class today?"

"No," You grin. "But I'll go over the syllabus when I get home. Mi-chan pays more attention than I do."

He clicks his tongue. "I'll just go over it with you right now."

He slips into the seat next to yours, and he smiles at you. "how old are you?"

"Trying to catch a case, professor?" You chuckle. "I'm not telling you."

"Just curious," He smiles. "Did you miss everything?"

"Almost." You grin. "I heard the part about Solaria and neuroscience though."

"The rest goes that we're working outside the majority of the time," Komaeda laughs. "And a handful of the classes are going to be at my place since my family holds all of their works."

"How rich," You mumble. "Alright. Anything else?"

"No," He smiles.

"Thank you, professor!" You grin, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

You stroll out the door, and Komaeda's eyes linger on you. You never change.

The world is an interesting place. Nothing determines the way we live. Many live just to live their life to the fullest. Why do people study? Knowledge is power. But is all that knowledge really power if the only thing you need to know is how to survive? What made man develop into what they are now? Why is mankind this way? Nietzsche said the world would end if mankind didn't stop destroying the planet, yet here we all are. The carbon in the air is worse than ever before, and we have barely a few years before carbon emissions, and the climate is changed permanently. So then why do people live? It's amusing to think of.

Komaeda only teaches one course in the entire university. He's well known amongst certain students; something along the lines of losing a hand in a bomb incident he caused. You're confused as to how a student who was a literal terrorist was teaching a philosophy course, but you suppose there is no sane philosophy student. The previous professor nearly destroyed his school, but then again, he has a cute little gamer girl wife. You wonder what you did wrong for the universe to hate you like that. When would YOU get a man like that? When would you live out the life of your dreams with a man who only loves you?

He's also never on campus.

You set your dinner tray down, and you stare at the Italian stained glass plastered everywhere on the windows. It had a nearly gothic vibe to the dining hall. It's never this empty, but then again, it's late into the evening. Traces of the sun are gone, instead, replaced with the blue glow you see from the moon. The glass would look prettier in the day, though. You sit down next to your roommate, her smiling at you.

"He looks familiar." You mumble.

"Well no shit, he looks like the boy in the portrait." Your roommate shrugs. "It's his relative, no?"

"No," You hum. "Same person."

"Huh?"

You open your laptop, and you show your roommate. "Our professor is either a direct descendant, has reALLY strong genes, or he's the same person. Since the professor lost his parents when young, there's no record of his parents whatsoever. I'm just assuming that he's the same person."

"So a reincarnator?"

"Maybe," You shrug. "But those are rare, so it might just be a coincidence. Wouldn't you fall in love with someone who adored you centuries ago to the point that you're hung up in a museum dedicated to your artist?"

"Perhaps," Your roommate smiles. "Have you read the first chapter on neuroscience yet?"

"Nope!" You grin. "But I know the basics of it."

"Why are you in this class again? You don't even need this to graduate?"

"Something told me that I'll find something important here." You smile. "Well, not that it matters. I just want to understand what creates art and the pieces that it adores."

Your roommate chuckles. "It's a shame, if you recalled your past life, I would have asked if we were friends."

"I have a feeling we were," You hum. "I always include you in my warmup sketches."

"And yet you're not an art major," She hums, a smile on her face. "Why'd you choose psychology?"

You stare at her. "Because science explains everything, if not putting a label on it."

"True," She mumbles. "But even then, with hands like yours, I wouldn't be surprised if you could create life one day."

"That'd be hilarious," You chuckle. "But it's pretty, isn't it? That hands like Solaria's could create such beautiful art. Their muse was gorgeous in their paintings."

"Yeah," Your roommate sighs. "I wish someone would love me like that."

"Oh, please," You grumble. "At least you have someone who loves you."

"You're single by choice."

"I'm really not," You stab your broccoli. "I get no bitches."

"Oh, you do," Your roommate mirrors your move. "Only under the pen name."

"Yeah, but that's not me," You shrug. "Say, if our professor is single, do you think I have a chance?"

You dodge the spoon she throws at you.

"The moon loves their stars. The nerves in your body seem to resemble the stars in some way. A bridge to another, the running and spinning to chase after it desperately. The neurotransmitters being held by the dendrites. The way your skin lights up at the softest of touches. Love is a strange thing." Komaeda hums. "Do any of us know the names of the chemical released when in love?"

"Oxytocin!"

"One more," Komaeda smiles at the student.

"Half," You mumble to your roommate, the two of you taking notes.

"On his nerves?"

"No," You mumble. "Not her. Someone else. I know who that someone is, but they're doing it on purpose."

"Vasopressin!"

"Good job," Komaeda raises his brows, a smile on his face.

"Close enough," You mumble.

"Y/n-chan, Mi-chan, do you two have something you'd like to share with the class?"

Your roommate pauses, and she stares at you.

"Professor, what's on your mind?" You thrust your chin gently.

Your roommate stares at you, eyes wide.

"Nothing, why?" He smiles, eyes closed.

"Catch that?" You mumble, your roommate clicking on the keys. "Lie."

"Are you psychoanlyzing me in class?"

"Reading your microexpressions, but yes," You smile. "Sorry about that, professor."

Komaeda sighs, and he goes back to the lesson.

"First one to figure out what's pissing him off gets free dinner."

"Oh, it is on."

"What part of the brain isn't active while we're in love?"

"Amygdala," You call.

"Correct," He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"What a genuine smile," Your roommate shudders. "Disgusting."

"He's barely any older than we are," You type a note into your doc. "He's irritated because I wasn't participating. Bingo."

"I hate you," She grumbles.

"The amygdala, frontal cortex, parietal cortex, and middle temporal cortex are all at minimum activity when you're in love," Komaeda smiles. "You know that euphoric feeling of being in love and fearing nothing? That's what love feels like. The amygdala is mainly for fear and anger, so the decreased activity in that area, which means you feel safe in their arms. To add on that, your frontal cortex makes decisions, which means love is blind. Literally."

You finish the notes, and you hum, closing your laptop.

Your roommate stares at you, something clicking in the back of her mind.

The milky way revolves around the sun. To people like her, they're just meteors passing by in your life. You stand at the center of everything. Nothing can touch you, you can touch nothing. It hurts. Loving you burns at their body until there's nothing but flames and smoke in their lungs. You're up in the sky to remind people that you exist. You spread warmth at a distance; you burn when close. If the moon froze everyone in their way, then the sun burned everyone who got close. Icarus lost his wings because of you. The boy who got greedy, who fell to his death at a single touch of you. The sun burns people who get close.

She supposes that you're not the only one.

Komaeda resembles the moon. The way his hair is pale without color, the way his skin looks dainty and delicate. He freezes anyone too close. The frostbite is hard to recover from. Komaeda doesn't have close friends. A simple look at him, and people would realize that he's the only one at the back of the room. He's the type to talk to people out of courtesy; yet never approach anyone first. He's cold. Perhaps that's why you were so eager to take up his case. Something to calm the ramming of your heart against your chest, anything to keep you cool-headed. But it's going to kill the both of you if you get too close. It's like mixing fire and water. It will never calm down.

So begins the vicious cycle of the sun chasing the moon.

"Professor," You smile at him. "Were you bothered because I wasn't participating today?"

"Huh?" Komaeda raises his brows. "No? Why so?" he rubs the back of his neck.

"I don't like liars, professor," You purse your lips, pouting at him.

Komaeda blinks, scratching his cheek. "Sorry. You just remind me of someone I study."

"Huh?"

"The newly arising artist? Ah, the one who paints the sunflowers like Van Gogh." Komaeda smiles. "I stayed up late last night, and I was a little annoyed at how their art style resembled Solaria's so much."

"Perhaps Solaria's their inspiration?" You look up, avoiding his eyes.

"Are you not telling me something?"

"Huh?" You stare at him. "No?"

"Mm," Komaeda hums, tapping his chin. "You see... I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm incredibly perceptive, which means I can tell a lie from the truth easily. Now, tell me what you know about what you know."

"No," You stare at him, all signs of lying gone. "I just know that they're an artist who visits the museum often."

"Well, many artists visit the museum often," He hums. "Have you been?"

"No," You shake your head, a smile on your face.

"It's a very nice place. You should visit sometime," Komaeda smiles.

Komaeda is kind to you. His words soothe you, and when you remain after class to talk to him more, there's so much that he breaks down for you. He doesn't ask why you didn't understand the piece and took the course, but he helps you digest it. It's hard to understand what the two of you are. Student and professor? Too foreign. Yet, saying the two of you were friends sounded strange. But then again, it's probably out of character to be sitting in a cafe booth with your professor discussing about Solaria's art.

"You know most of their early life, right?"

"Yeah," Komaeda smiles. "They were a pretty child, but they were poor. Their parents died because of a lack of doctors in the village, and they became a wandering painter. They took up side jobs to pay for the art supplies at first, before their art was found and then sponsored by an old friend. That friend became their muse."

"Their muse was gorgeous," You bite on the straw of your coffee. It hurts; you forgot it was your metal straw. "If someone as pretty as their muse was sponsoring me, I'd draw them for the rest of my life too."

"You draw?"

"A little," You smile. "In my free time."

"That's nice," Komaeda smiles. "Show me sometime?"

"If you'd like," Your eyes trail back to your laptop, and you continue typing. Komaeda has his laptop in front of him, the rays of the setting sun brushing his face. You want to stare. You really do. You force yourself to keep working instead. He isn't a student. Why are you out with him again? Wait.

"Ah, um," You stare at Komaeda. "professor?"

"yes?"

"Why are we at a cafe again?"

"You said you needed help with the assignment."

Oops.

"Right... I did," You blink. "I was not expecting to end up at a coffee shop with you."

"I don't do well in the classroom cold," He smiles. "My apologies. Is this a little too casual for you?"

"No," You shake your head. "It's just... a little strange, perhaps."

"Ah, because you're out with your professor?"

"Well, it's not like you're old or anything," You smile. "So unless they take your class, they probably won't know you're a teacher."

"I hope so," He smiles. "My luck has a tendency to wear out in moments like this sometimes."

"Is that so?" You continue on the assignment. "I heard that Solaria's original muse had a luck cycle as well. If you look closely on a handful of their pieces, you'll find traces of water on the canvas. Probably from rain."

Komaeda stares at you. "You noticed that?"

"I did," You smile. "Because I had a dream or something. Also, because Solaria's muse never married or had children, so the art belonging to someone that's a descendant sounds impossible."

"Is that so?" Komaeda shrugs, pressing his tea to his lips.

"Ah, back on our psychoanalyzing schedule," You laugh, a smile on your face. "How'd your family get your hands on Solaria's art?"

Komaeda stares at you, eyes mirthed. "How do you think?"

You smirk.

Komaeda's excuse for how he got the art was that he bought it from the black market. Though, it is arguable since the museum was started by the muse himself. There had been no records that he had any children, but people talked about how he probably never died. Immortals of their age weren't unheard of. Though, many of them died of heartbreak. You wonder if Komaeda is the muse. Well, it's not like it matters. Even if he was the muse, you find it breathtaking that he still loved them after so long.

His lectures grow boring sometimes. Occasionally he goes on a tangent about how love was filled with a hope that could overcome any despair. He makes a comment or two about how he's undeserving of it, but then he moves on before anyone can point it out. He has something about his confidence. Though, you don't really think too much about it.

Class ends at 4, and you pack your things up slowly. Your roommate ran off first chance for her date. You wonder what it feels like to be loved.

"Ah, Y/n-chan," He smiles. "Did Mi-chan run off?"

"Yeah," You hum. "Did you need something, professor?"

"I was wondering," He smiles. "If you were an art major."

"I am," You're not surprised he caught on so early.

"Could I see?"

You take your laptop back out, and you pull up a website of your art. Komaeda smiles at the art.

"So you are the rising artist?"

"yeah," You scratch your cheek. "Um, Solaria is kind of an inspiration, but I do genuinely share their love for the stars."

Komaeda stares at you, eyes glancing at the moles on your fingers and then at you. He smiles. "Your art is lovely. I'm sure Solaria would've loved it."

"You speak like you know her, professor," You chuckle as he scrolls through the rest of your art. He pauses at the sight of a child that looks like himself. "Is this..."

"Ah," You turn red, your neck burning in embarrassment. "It's going to sound weird but I see him in my dreams occasionally."

"Ah," Komaeda stares at you, and he smiles. "Perhaps a soul connection?"

"Like soulmates?" You close your laptop and slip it back into your bag.

"No," He shakes his head. "like memories from a past life."

"Maybe it was the bibliography that I read..." You brush it off, waving your hand. "Thank you, professor."

"Of course," He nods. "Stay safe."

Fondness. Komaeda was fond of you. You remind him of Solaria. Hell, you are Solaria. Their soul rests in you, even if you're not aware of it. No matter how many times you reincarnated, you were still them. Komaeda feels disgusted. Times and times he fell in love with you, and you had seen him as nothing more than a muse. Even when you were on your deathbed, you were still sketching him. You offered him no words of advice or love. You had always been like that. You had always seen him as a muse. In the first life, you adored him with the love that you would for a best friend. The second, you had adored him with the love that an artist had for a muse. The third, it was the love for a parent. The fourth, it was the love of someone who would never confess or accept. The fifth was the love for the sun and stars and the way he seemed to glow. You had never loved Komaeda with the love that one has for their lover.

He wants to throw up every time he's reminded that you're cursed to never love him.

"Are you cold?" Komaeda raises a brow. "You're shivering."

"It's a bit cold," You smile. "Don't worry about it. It's not an issue."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Komaeda frowns. It feels hot in the room. He can't tell if it's because he's normally cold or if it's actually hot. By the way you're shaking, though, he's sure that it's warmer than he's used to, and colder than you're used to. He wonders if it's the room. He takes off his coat, and he hands it to you. You reject it, a smile still on your face.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," You nod. "That was all I wanted to ask. Thank you, professor."

"The pleasure is all mine," Komaeda beams. "Stay safe out there."

You don't love him.

"Right, professor," You stare at him. "I hope I'm not intruiding, but how much do you make in a year? I heard the school doesn't pay well."

"Oh," Komaeda chuckles. "No worries, you're not intruding on anything. I make around 13,787,696 yen a year. I also yield from money, so it's quite a bit."

"Then... what do you do in your free time?"

Komaeda smiles. "I'm sure you know."

"I'll think of it," You grin. "Thank you for your time!"

"Pleasure was all mine. Email me if you have any other questions." Komaeda stands up from his seat, adjusting his sleeve.

"Of course, professor." You smile. "Have a lovely day."

You don't love him.

The sun chases after the moon for eternity. That's how it's been, and that's how it's supposed to be. Yet, Komaeda chases after you forever. Each time you're in his arms, he suffers. He's stuck in the endless space between the two of you. The sun has so many people adoring it, how could a simple moon be anything to compare with the other nebulas? The moon has her stars, so the sun had turned away; but the sun has his galaxies, so the moon had looked away. Komaeda will spend life after life chasing after you.

The first life, you had painted hundreds upon thousands of portraits of him and his friends. Even as a child, when you first met him as a child, you had sketched him in the sun. Though you gave him a small ring made of flowers, you were a painter. You painted until your fingers grew numb, but you had continued to. Even as you were old and sitting on your deathbed, you were still sketching Komaeda. He was your muse. He was ethereal in your eyes. The way his eyes were pale with fear because of his luck, the way his skin was light as a result of his childhood. The way his hair was pale without color, fading out into a pink that you adored. You had passed with a smile on your face.

The second life, Komaeda spoiled you with whatever marble you desired. You had chipped away at the rock until it came to life. The way Komaeda saw himself as a rock, one with life. You had called him the boy. Just the plain name of 'the boy'. Your skill was recognized everywhere, and you had created life with the rocks Komaeda had given you. His wealth ran endless for you. You would sketch the basics, and then you would bring them to life. The way you created wings for Icarus, patting the pink of roses onto the lips of Aphrodite, you did everything. You sculpted all of Komaeda's friends, all of them perfect copies. Chiaki's pink hair was replicated with granite, you making sure that it was accurate. Your hands traced Komaeda's skin, carving him to perfection. You created life with your fingers, even when the rock had crushed you to your death.

The third, you worked with gems. You had thousands of rocks provided to you by Komaeda. He never knew what form of art you would pick up in the next life. He found you when you were a child this time. In whatever life you lived, your parents never lived long enough to see you grow up. Komaeda had taken you in as your caretaker after finding you on the street, staring longingly at the craftsmen working with gems. You had joked about he never aged, and you had stayed next to him. You created thousands of jewels. You created all of Komaeda's accessory drawers. The green of the emeralds brought out his eyes; the red from the ruby brought out the tips of his hair. You had crafted each band carefully whenever you asked. Even when he requested a set of jewelry your size, you had joked with him. "I hope they let me call them mom." You died from lead poisoning.

The fourth, you had been a tailor. Every yard of fabric under your hands was treated with care. Komaeda had found you at the place he got his suits tailored regularly. You had never changed. With a brief discussion, he had managed to hire you to make suits for him exclusively. Any fabric you wanted to work with, he let you try. The silks from China, the satin from Greece, the cotton from the commoners. You worked with everything. Komaeda had requested little from you. Only a wedding dress your size, and a suit in his. Even as your eyes swirled with hurt while creating the dress, you had never told Komaeda you loved him. Even as you coughed from the smoke of the factories, you never stopped. Three days after the creation of the dress, you lost your life; and Komaeda lost his only chance.

The fifth life, you made people dance with joy. Your fingers would bounce off the keys of the piano, stringing the crowd's heart along. The sun and moon would bow for you, conducting the sky to shine along with the melody. Your music left the taste of honey on peoples' lips. Their mind was hazy with adoration for your pieces. Komaeda found you before you grew famous. He met you in the street under a streetlight, a violin in your hand, placing it into your case. He had recognized you immediately. But even as the chandelier slammed on top of you during your piece, your corpse had been found with a smile on its face.

The boy in your dreams is older today.

"Hey, my sun?"

"Yeah?" Your lips move unconsciously.

"Do you think... I'll ever be healthy enough for another sun portrait?"

"After that sunburn? I think not," You grumble, going back to sketching the boy lying down next to the window. "You're still recovering from that."

"I know... but I wanna-"

"No buts," You feel your lips curl into a pout. "Your parents are rolling in their grave right now."

"My nanny isn't," the boy folds his arms, a frown on his face. "Would you paint me once I recover?"

"I'm sketching you right now, am I not?"

"I know you are," he mumbles. "But I want another portrait."

"Maybe when you recover." You feel yourself in their body. "Say, what's your name again-"

"It's N-"

You wake up in a cold sweat. You stare at your hand and then at the mirror. There aren't any lead stains or blood stains from the dream. You reach for your notebook, and you sketch the same image down. Your roommate snores from her bed, and you paint out the boy's face. He looks exactly like your professor. You're worried, but as the sun rises and you step out of bed, you toss it to the back of your mind. Maybe you would pay Solaria's museum a visit sometime.

Even as you wander through the streets of the university, there's always something holding the back of your mind hostage. It's like the tale about the moles. You pray that it's true. The moles on your fingers and skin make you happy. One is on your ring finger, and another is on your wrist. You feel loved every time you see it. It's like your lover had adored you to pieces. It was a funny concept to think about. There was love about everything. You wonder if reincarnation was one. You would worry about that later.

Komaeda spends his days in his galleries and staring at the portraits. He lingers in front of a picture of a male in the sunflower field. He bears a striking resemblance to him. The piece is gorgeous. Komaeda misses the person who painted it. It had been centuries since he last saw them. He wonders how much longer their reincarnation would take to visit the museum. Well, it wasn't like he needed to wait. He knew where they were.

You bump into Komaeda on accident in the museum. You're in awe at the portrait of the same male who seemed to have taught your class. He looks breathtaking. The way the sun kisses his skin and the flowers hug him. The red on his cheeks from smiling is ethereal. He looks alive with his rosy cheeks and pretty lips. You know the art is from ages ago, yet he just looks so happy. The way he basked in the sun's light made you happy. You don't know why. The green jacket and white shirt make you nostalgic, an overwhelming amount of bitterness drowning you. You don't know what happened to him. You don't know why this piece makes you so sad.

"Y/n-chan?"

You turn to stare at your professor, eyes wide, lost in thought over a feeling you didn't know.

"Are you crying? What happened?"

You don't know what to tell him. That you were suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion you didn't know? That you had no clue why you felt like crying? That the feeling of seeing someone for the first time in eternity burned the back of your head? That you felt like the artist was in utter bliss while painting the piece? The fact that you could feel the artist laughing melodiously as they painted? The fact that you were overcome with the suffocating urge to touch the painting? How would you even begin to explain it? It doesn't matter. You stare at your professor, tears dribbling down your cheeks. You're crying. Eyes wide with confusion, you're crying.

Komaeda panics, and before his mind can reprimand him for cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears, the thought is gone. You're crying. Fuck. You're crying in front of him. Are you crying because of him? Did he bring you that much discomfort? Oh, maybe he should go. But it isn't rude to leave someone you know crying by themselves? Komaeda feels bad. He stays with you, wiping your tears gently. His hands are a little rough, but they give you comfort. You're happy with it.

"I'm sorry," The words spill out of Komaeda's lips unconsciously. "Are you crying because of me?"

"No," You mumble, reaching to wipe your tears yourself. Komaeda offers you a handkerchief, and you mumble a gentle thank you. "I'm crying because the painting makes me feel some way. I'm just overcome with such nostalgia over the portrait. It hurts my chest."

Komaeda knows why it hurts. Hell, he remembers it. That is him. He even remembers the words their soul told him while painting it. The sun made him sweat a mess, but they went home with a rough sketch, and an even prettier portrait. They had shown it to him with such a big smile on their face. Komaeda had sworn nothing had ever shone so brightly. His parents scolded him for being out under the moon so long despite being a sickly child, but he had adored the portrait so much. He had it hung in his room. Even as they grew older and older, the life that they brought out in their art was still so alive. They had painted thousands of paintings in your past, every single one given to Komaeda after they finished. Komaeda has their paintings decorated in a room at his mansion for the day he meets their soul again.

The portrait under the sun was their best piece. The way Komaeda's eyes crinkled with joy, his cheeks red from the heat and embarrassment. Komaeda looked euphoric, the way his smile stretched from one side to the other, the absolute joy in his life. Oh, he adored it so much so. The sun had left him with a sunburn that they treated when they returned to the mansion. His sun had scolded him to tell them earlier, but the look on Solaria's face when they had finished the portrait was just so pretty. It was dazzling. He wouldn't have been able to tell them even if it killed him.

Komaeda has the best ones hung up in the museum he sponsors. Each one is signed under the same pseudonym, and though some people find art boring, the pieces bring light to their eyes. He loved them. He adored the childhood friend who sat him down for hours at a time and painted him times and times again. They were the sun in his life that brought him warmth. They helped him heal during the times that he needed to heal. Even as they had lay in bed, a pencil in their hand in the first life, they had never stopped drawing him. Their unfinished piece was Komaeda hunched over in pain before they passed. Komaeda can't stand to look at that piece.

"I'm sorry," You wipe your tears. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

"My family owns the museum," He smiles. "Every single piece in here is by the same soul."

"Soul? Solaria?"

Komaeda swallows. "They're a treasure to my- me."

You stare at him, eyes watery. "You're the muse?"

"Yes," Komaeda swallows. "Are you alright? You were crying pretty hard."

"Ah," You stare at him, eyes wide with newfound realization. "No. I just... Solaria's art has that effect on me, I guess."

Komaeda smiles. "Understandable. What brings you here? You could have texted me to give you a tour?"

"I didn't know you owned this place," You mumble. "Does that mean you have no family?"

"It's just me," Komaeda smiles. "I never married."

"So you own this place?"

"Everything I own is for my sun's soul to use," He smiles. "I work hard for when I meet their soul again."

"So..." You stare at him. "Are you a government secret?"

Komaeda laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "No, my darling student, I am not. In fact, the government knows I'm alive, but they don't do anything about me. I haven't done anything weird like the other immortals."

"Others...?"

"All of Solaria's muses were immortal," Komaeda smiles. "You'd be surprised at how many immortals are teaching at this school."

You blink at him.

"Professor Nanami, Hinata, Kamukura..." Komaeda counts on his fingers. "You know? All of them were muses."

You blink at him.

"Ah... do you have the portraits of them?"

Komaeda holds his hand out to you, and you grasp it loosely. He pulls you to the back of the museum and unlocks a room with a card. You let go of his hand, and you stare at the paintings on the wall. It's the other professors. You blink at the portrait of your roommate on the wall and pause.

"That's..."

"She's also an immortal," Komaeda swallows. "I don't know if she-"

"I suspected it," You mumble. "So this is a government secret? Are you all part of the men behind the curtain?"

Komaeda laughs. "No. We just choose to not tell people. It's much safer that way."

"I suppose so," You stare at him. "So, what made you trust me?"

"Solaria's art triggered... something about you. I guess," He smiles.

"Ah, do you have any of their sketches?" You turn to him, and he nods. "Which ones?"

"There was a boy laying under the sun." You mumble. "That I read about." You add. You don't think your professor wants to know that you keep dreaming scenes of Solaria's life.

"Oh, when I got a sunburn?" He pulls a drawer open, and he reaches for the sketchbook. "It hurt that day, and Solaria did not make it any better."

"I thought she was with you the whole day?" You take the sketches from his hand, and you pull out your phone. It's an exact copy of what you drew in the morning. Your face is relaxed, but your mind swirls with emotion. You have their soul. Their soul is yours.

"Are you alright, Y/n-chan? You look sick again."

You shake your head, a smile on your face. "No worries. You just look like you're in immense pain."

"I was," He chuckles, but his eyes are gentle with tenderness. "But they made it better."

"Did they have a name?"

"No," Komaeda shakes his head. "It was always Solaria."

You should probably continue to sign with Solaria on your art pieces.

"Anything else?"

You shake your head. "Thank you, professor."

Komaeda grows closer to you after the event at the museum. The two of you go out for coffee, and while it's taboo for a student and professor to go out for coffee every week to discuss an artist, the two of you stopped caring. Komaeda's way too old to care, and you're too into Solaria's past to give a fuck. You never bothered confronting your roommate about this whole thing, only asking her for advice on your art.

Komaeda spends a lot of time with you. For the most part, he forgets that he's in love with Solaria. You remind him of the soul, yet you're a completely different person in his eyes. He can't bring himself to compare you to Solaria. Yet, as you wave at him as the sun rises from their slumber, Komaeda finds a sense of peace with you. Maybe it was his sign to move on, not that he wanted to.

The students in the class are lively. When midterms end, the class throws a party. You tag along, mainly because your roommate had bet you fifty bucks that the professor wouldn't come. You had raised a row at her, lip quirked into a smirk, and tagged along. It doesn't take much to convince you to party. Though, you were drowsier at night. You wonder how you ended up tipsy at the edge of the second-floor balcony when you told yourself you wouldn't drink. However, the bigger question was why your professor was next to you.

"Hey, professor?" You giggle, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. 

"You're drunk, Y/n-chan," He mumbles, taking off his blazer, resting it over your shoulders.

"You know," You spin gently, the glass of alcohol still in your hand. "I chased after the sun for eternity and rest while the moon illuminates the field. I am neither the sun, the sky, the stars, nor the moon, but I am an observer. I am the child that stares out the window of their worn-out cabin, dreaming of a love like theirs."

Komaeda watches you slow down, and he takes the glass from your fingers. 

"I can only pray for someone to chase me like the sun chases the moon," You turn to glance inside the flat. "The way the moon loved the sun, but finally turned to notice how much the stars adored them. The way that the sun chased the moon but finally glanced ahead to stare at the plenty of nebulas that adored them. I want to be loved the way that the sky loves."

Komaeda stays silent from next to you, and he stares at you in a way that makes you lighthearted. 

"Ah," You grin at him. "But who am I to wish for something only the stars have?"

Komaeda smiles. "Aren't you afraid of me taking advantage of you?"

You're drunk at this point. 

"I'd jump you before you could do that," You smile at him. "Hm? Professor?"

Komaeda inhales sharply as you drape your arms around his neck. He leans against the railing, trying his best to keep his hands off of you. You look ravishing. The way your outfit hugged your figure in all the right places, and the way your lashes batted innocently up at him. Fuck. You're his student for fuck's sake. He grimaces and clings to the balcony railing instead.

"You're drunk."

"I won't regret this in the morning," Your eyes focus on his throat, and he swallows. "A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts, you know?"

Komaeda sighs, and his lips part.

"So?"

"You better not regret this in the morning," Komaeda doesn't resist as you press your lips to his.

Komaeda is a pleaser. He listens to every whine and beg that slips past your lips as he fucks you. He pays attention to when your expressions change, and the way you squirm under his touch. His touch is gentle, yet as he grips your waist to keep you in place, you think they're more firm than gentle. You wonder if he's fucked you like this in one of your past lives. Well, it's not like it matters. He must've taken up at least a lover or two while waiting for Solaria's soul. You don't mind. Your brain is too hazy to think straight anyway.

Komaeda wants to make sure you feel good. The only thing racing through his mind as he presses his lips to your skin is to please you. So he drinks up each sound that your pretty lips make. The purple and red decorate all over your skin in places you can hide. He's sure you don't want to get caught sleeping with your professor of all people, even if he is young. Komaeda drinks you up like you're the nectar of the gods. Like you're the water from the fountain of youth. He could spend eternity under you, worshipping you for your worth. So Komaeda makes sure that you know he loves you. Even if you won't remember it in the morning, he would please you to no end.

Komaeda worships you like the people adore the sun. To you, he's just an insignificant worshipper at your feet, doing his very best to please his god. Oh, you're just so pretty to him. You clench the sheets until they're stained with the remnants of you, your lipstick messy on his collar. He's sure he looks more of a mess than you, but he doesn't care. His wrist is drenched by you, but as he pulls another breathless whine from your lips, he supposes you'll be fine for the night.

"In me," You whine. "I want you in me."

He swallows, unsure.

"Please," Your mascara stains your cheeks, and you jut out your bottom lip for emphasis. "...Nagito?"

Who is Komaeda to turn down your request?

As Komaeda complies with your request, you mumble incoherent thoughts. It's usually mindless praise for how good he was, or a breathy whine about how it was too much. Komaeda doesn't stop until you finish, and even then, you're crying for him to finish inside of you. Ah, inside of you? inside? He can't argue with that if it's what you want. So as your eyelids finally flutter closed, Komaeda pants on top of you. You look so vulnerable under him. Komaeda gets off of you, and he stares at the room in his mansion. He has a brief fantasy before he gets to work to clean you off.

You wake up to the smell of takeout and a shirt draped over your body. It takes you a moment to recall where you are, and then turn an unrecognizable shade of red when you recall this is Komaeda's apartment. The shirt smells like him. Wait. No. Holy fuck, you fucked your professor. You wonder if any of your past lives had done this with him before. Well, it doesn't matter since you did. You get off the bed. You're glad he didn't fuck you brainless.

"Good morning," Komaeda smiles at you.

"I can't believe I fucked my professor," You mumble a quiet thank you before biting into the rice.

"Well, a lot of things are surprising," Komaeda hums. "I canceled class today."

"Because of this?"

"Yeah," He shrugs. "Also because we start studying Solaria's art next week and I need to pull out a couple of portraits to set up the room we have class in."

"Oh, right," You stare at his kitchen. "We have class at your place."

"Mhm," He hums.

"Um... professor?"

"I believe we are well beyond formalities, Y/n-chan," He raises a brow at you in amusement.

"Komaeda."

"Nagito." He leans onto his palm, staring at you. "You had no problem with it last ni-"

"I got it," You flush red again. "What does this make us."

"Up to you," He sips on his tea. 

"Up to me?"

"We could've been a hookup," He grimaces for a moment.

"Annnd there you go," Your lips curl up knowingly. "You don't want it to be a hookup."

"But even if it isn't," Komaeda places his mug down. "You can't date your professor."

"You talk as if you hadn't fallen in love with the same soul again and again." You shrug.

"So?" Komaeda reaches for a biscuit. "What do you suppose we are?"

"I wanted to say friends with benefits," You mumble. "But I suppose it'd be professor and student."

"You're not fucking me for a grade, are you?" Komaeda raises a brow in amusement.

"No," You grin. "The grades would be a bonus."

"Too bad I don't do bonuses," He smiles. "It was on the syllabus."

"Another time when not reading has come to bite me in the ass," You sigh blissfully. "So what are we?"

"At this point," Komaeda mumbles, fingers dancing up your forearm. "It's a rhetorical question. We know what we are."

"I suppose so." You mumble, eyes distant.

There's no label for the sun and the moon. Lovers, perhaps? Yet, they aren't together. The sun attends to the people and the moon attends to their stars. They chase after each other on the brief moments of eclipses and rises. The sun kisses the moon good morning when the moon kisses the sun good night. The brief moments when the sun and the moon are both in the sky is what the two of you resemble.

The moon spends his mornings waking up in the sun's arms. Komaeda spends his mornings waking up to food that isn't from a local market down the street. He wakes up to actual food, and gentle kisses on his skin. Komaeda worships you, yet you love him the same. You're the one he wakes up to in the morning, and sometimes he falls asleep in your arms. With you, Komaeda feels loved.

He counts the dots on your skin in the morning, reminding you that it's normal to stress over things. He's old with wisdom, you're young with life. Komaeda wishes that one day you could become immortal. If you did, then he wouldn't need Solaria's soul anymore. Maybe he could introduce you to his coworkers. You'd get along well with Chiaki or Hinata. You seem like you'd fit right in. Komaeda tucks your hair behind your ear as the moon lights up your skin. You're really pretty.

Komaeda feels you press gentle kisses to his face when you wake up, and then leave the room to make breakfast. You like the way the sun hugs his skin. He looks holy under the rays of the sun. Komaeda's eyes meets your half-lidded ones, a peaceful smile on your face. You look mundane; like a cup of tea in the morning with a simple breakfast. Komaeda wants to stay with you forever. He didn't mind if you were staying with him for personal gain or private lessons; You were his. 

But he should know nothing ever goes his way.

He's had many meetings with his luck, after all. Each time he had loved you, you had ended up dying because of his luck, two out of the five deaths you had experienced. Komaeda should know better than that by now. He stares at himself in the mirror less nowadays. He doesn't berate himself outwardly, settling for your arms instead as you massage his scalp and work out the knots in his shoulders. Komaeda should really know better by now.

Among the many nights he stays over to study with you at your dorm, he never touches your stuff. He gets curious. Once. He peeks into your bag while you're off to grab the two of you coffee, and he's caught off guard. Carbon copies of Solaria's art. Each one was something you had asked him to see before. Were you an art thief? No. It's impossible. You couldn't have snuck something that big. You didn't even have the keys to the room to begin with. Komaeda racks his mind for an excuse. Something. He finds nothing, so he chooses to flip through the rest of the pages.

"I'm here with the order," You smile.

"Ah, thank you," Komaeda smiles. "Sorry, I wanted to see your sketches."

"Ah," Your face pales. "That sketchbook..."

He stares at you, noticing the way your skin turned white.

"The sketches... are they stolen?"

"Heavens no," You shake your head. "I could never do that to them."

"Then...?"

"Dream log," You swallow slowly. "I log scenes from my dreams."

There's a moment of silence. It's tense. The way that the string could be cut and either of you could bubble over with emotion. You aren't sure what to feel as you stare at your professor. You can see him fight back the realization. It hurts. He doesn't want to admit it. Maybe he does. Maybe he feels hurt that you hadn't told him about it. You stare at Komaeda's eyes, trying to read his emotions. Maybe you would feel better if you knew what was on his mind.

"you're the soul." Komaeda's eyes are wide with hurt, something bubbling in the back of his throat.

You stare at him, eyes swirling with emotion. You wanted to fall in love with him first as an apology for all the pain you had caused him before. You had never loved him with something romantic. It had always been a platonic love that left him longing for more. You felt bad at first. You're sure this isn't just a feeling of pity of guilt anymore. Great, the one time you actually tell him you love him, you accidentally hurt him.

"Did you... actually love me?" Komaeda stares at you.

You swallow, eyes meeting his, voice shaky. "I do. I still do."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

The sun burns anyone it grows too close to.

"It didn't seem like something important to our relationship," You avoid his eyes.

"I thought we trusted each other about everything." Komaeda stares at you, and you stare at him.

"I'm sorry for being a coward," Your voice is cracked as you put down his coffee on the table. You grab your bag, and you're out of the cafe. Komaeda stares at the coffee on the table. His chest hurts.

He isn't sure if it's from the fact that you knew you were Solaria all along or the fact that you had just left him at the coffee shop, but it hurt. He stares at the door to the store, and he sighs. He would apologize later, but he had to sort out his own thoughts first. Even if you weren't the artist or sculptor, your soul had always adored communication. Perhaps you were hurt because of how freely he communicated his feelings to you when he didn't know you were Solaria. But you weren't playing him. Perhaps you had just wanted to make up for the hurt you caused him in your past life.

Komaeda and you go about your ways. He teaches class about Solaria, masking his emotions about the artist. He didn't want to get you in trouble for something that could have been handled differently. You mask your emotions well. Had Komaeda not known what happened, he wouldn't have been able to tell that you were worse than before. He supposes he's the only one to blame for this. Maybe a part of himself had just convinced himself that Solaria could never love him. Maybe that was why he was so surprised at the revelation.

In the first life, you loved him with the love that you had for a best friend. He was the center of everything you did. Even if you had died before you could tell him that you loved him as one would love their partner; you prayed he could tell from the messy sketches and ornate paintings. The second, you had loved him with the love that an artist had for a muse. You wanted to give the stars in the sky to him, even if you couldn't. You prayed that the delicate hearts at the end of your signatures on his statues would tell him. The third, it was the love for a parent that you knew you couldn't love as anything else. He had raised you, and even if you weren't related, it was taboo to fall in love with your caretaker. The fourth, you loved him from behind the millions of cloths of fabrics. You had shown your love through the carefully crafted outfits of his. The fifth, you loved him as the sun loves the moon, quietly, without word. You had always loved Komaeda with the love that one has for their lover, but you had never told him in fear.

The two of you go back to the old cycle. Simple comments and plain questions after class. Neither of you overstep your boundaries, pretending that everything is fine when it's not. Your roommate grows concerned for you, yet you don't overstep your boundaries. The sun is supposed to burn everything that gets too close.

"Ok, dumbass," She forcibly sits you down one evening.

"Look, I-"

"I am not taking excuses right now," She glares. "Spit it out, Solaria."

You stare at her. You don't even have the energy to argue with her anymore.

"What happened between you and moon boy?"

"I told you," You hum. "We got into an argument."

"There has to be more than that. It takes a LOT to piss Komaeda off."

"It was about my identity," You sigh, changing into your sleepwear. "That was all. We're just... taking a break."

The moon freezes everything in its way.

Komaeda's words are only unpoetic when he's caught off guard. Usually, his words have a graceful ambiance around them. His words are lovely to hear; they resemble the siren's songs. His words hurt you that day. He feels awful. The urge to throw up each time he meets your eyes while teaching claws at his throat. When you stop after class to ask questions, he just wants to grab your hands and pray that you would forgive him. Yet, neither of you speak up, because the sun and moon are supposed to be in an endless cycle of chasing after each other.

Finals are around the week, and with each step you take inside of the classroom, you feel yourself grow sicker and sicker. Your stomach churns, but you still pull through the exam. Did he feel as bad as you? Was his heart clenching each time he saw you? You haven't bothered staring him in the eye since the breakup. It's the last final you have. You don't bother staying when you finish, turning in your paper to Komaeda. He stares at you, and the two of you pause for a moment.

"Thank you for this year, professor," You smile to the best of your ability.

"Ah," He flips through your page. "You missed a section."

"Sorry," You mumble. "I can-"

"It's on your mind, isn't it?" Komaeda's voice is quiet so no one else can hear. "If you want, we can grab dinner later."

You stare at him, paper in your hands crinkling.

"If you don't want to, it's fine," He smiles. "I just... want to apologize."

"I'll go," You mumble. "Where?"

"The same place as before," He hums lowly. "Stay safe."

"Of course," You sit back in your seat, pulling out your pen again to finish the final. 

Komaeda feels bad. He has the urge to throw up. His stomach churns in disgust, and he stares at himself in the reflection of his laptop. He looks worse than usual. As each student turns in their test, he feels a little more of himself die. You finish your test at the same time as your roommate, and he stares at you walk off. Your roommate stays behind.

"Listen," Your roommate stares at him, eyes hard. "If you hurt Solaria again, you won't hear from any of us ever again."

"I know," Komaeda collects her test. "I know."

"We're rooting for you," She mumbles. "We've been waiting for the two of you to get together for just as long as you've been in love with them. It's their 6th life, please."

"I know," Komaeda doesn't have the confidence to meet her eyes.

Komaeda has no confidence in himself. Even as the two of you sit down to eat, it feels like the fruit is stuck in his throat, the fruit of the tree of knowledge. He wants to talk. Yet, as you stare at him and the two of you eat in silence, it's more suffocating than comforting. He's just glad you haven't gotten up to leave yet. 

You stare at Komaeda, and you continue eating. His words are caught in his throat, huh? You don't rush him to talk. You needed to talk to him anyway. Your graduation was in a couple of days; it didn't matter. If he wanted to break things off, he could. You wouldn't blame him. Yet, as the two of you sit under the stars, you find yourself wishing he doesn't break anything off. You don't really want it to end. It'd be like wasting an entire life before you reincarnate again to find him again. You wonder if this life is the time you actually have to leave him.

"You mentioned once... that you had wished someone would chase after you like the sun chased the moon. You don't need someone like that," Komaeda swallows, staring to the side. His voice is quiet, but he still continues speaking. "because to me, you were my sun. Even if you had never turned back to look at me or love me like I did you for eternity. I adored each ray that was pressed onto me as you awoke life in everyone else. I never needed the stars of the sky if it meant you would look at me."

You glance at him.

"Because the world adores you. Because there's nothing worth more than you that could ever be bidded for. You were the sun of each age, turning the page to a new era. You were the Helios of the age, turning each new day and rising up to greet us in the morning," Komaeda laughs pathetically, running his fingers through his hair. "You don't need a story like the sun and the moon; because to you, everyone else is like a galaxy other than the moon. You would only turn to thank the moon as you found someone better, yet the moon wishes they were more to you. When will you learn to adore the moon like it does you?"

You stare at Komaeda, and your voice is quiet as it comes out. "The sun loves the moon, Nagito. Since centuries before, you had been deemed my moon. I was your sun. Does that not prove how much I adore you? Forgive me for being foolish and believing that you did not love me because of the stars. I love you; and I have loved you for eternity past."

His eyes widen at you, and his lips part in surprise. His eyes aren't hurt like before. He stares at you like you're a revelation. Like you're a sudden epiphany in his life. He stares at you with stars in his eyes. Like you had stopped the sun and moon's cycle to give him a longer moment of peace. Komaeda stares at you like he's in love. He stares at you like every single doubt in his life had just been a misunderstanding and that the sun had come out after a rainy day. Oh, you love him too? Was he dreaming? Oh, how could his luck finally fix him?

"As the moon loves the sun?" He stares at you, and you grasp his hand gently, giving it a squeeze.

"As the moon loves the sun."

And for the first time, the cycle stops.

[downtherabbithole-tumbleedition]

Momento Mori, Momento Vivere

A Tom Riddle x OC Fanfiction

Remember you must die, so remember to live.

-

'Til death do we part'. For how long should such a vow be honoured? Through thick and thin, sickness and in health... but what about when her husband turns into the most sinister Dark Lord wizarding Britain has ever seen? What about when death is no longer an option for her?

What if she has to choose between the boy she raised and the man she swore to always love?

(Cross posted on A03)

It didn't take Sabrina long to decide immortality was a twisted, haunting thing. Perhaps the idea of it was appealing; living forever in the prime of your life, an untouched form of art immune to time itself... to be the very thing men waged wars over. But it should have remained an idea, a hypothetical, an untouchable wish. Would she curse such a reality on her worst enemy?

There were perks to it, of course, it wasn't so sought after for nothing. Sabrina remained perfect, pristine, barely a wrinkle in sight, her hair as shining as it always had been rather than painted white by the cruel truth of time. Those around her spent galleons upon galleons on spells, charms or potions to undo what time had done to them, to reclaim their youth, to appear even a fraction as young as she did.

A fickle and vain thing, perhaps, but she had wondered many times if she would shatter on the inside if her beauty was stolen from her. It wasn't something she had always had, certainly not gifted to her from birth... People who have been beautiful their whole lives do not know what it's like to be unwanted, so they have no fear of being ugly. But when good looks are gained through age, one grips onto them to the point of claw marks.

But no mortal set the world on fire for youth, no, they wanted to evade death himself.

That was the point, wasn't it? The only reason Sabrina was immortal was because someone decided they couldn't bear to see her die; a selfless act, one would believe, but Sabrina knew she was only alive out of pure selfishness, the refusal to grieve her.

Death wasn't evil, he was a gift. Mortals have a lifespan for a reason, after all. There is only so much loss and grief a heart can take before it breaks, perhaps it still pumped blood into her veins and kept her body functioning, but the pitiful organ had died many years before... one too many corpses, few too many smiles. Sabrina had certainly thought she was immune to death, that the news of a friend going cold could no longer pull on her severed heart strings.

But they were so young.

Lily and James Potter had been some of her favourite students - Lily with her brilliance, James with his mischief. Sabrina really did not believe herself to have a maternal bone in her body, but even she couldn't deny the tender spot the two had carved for themselves in her heart. Green eyes, wild black hair... She loved the two like her children.

And they were gone, their souls cast away from their bodies with only a simple green spell, all because of a crazed man and a stupid prophecy. Something she could have prevented perhaps, had she tried hard enough.

So, no, Sabrina did not consider immortality to be a blessing or something worth destroying worlds for, not when she had witnessed every person she had ever loved die or fall to ruin. It was a terrible, inevitable thing - better to not love at all than have your heart beaten and abused.

“Sirius Black has been found guilty of conspiring with the Dark Lord.”

That was just salt in the wound, the blood leaving Sabrina’s face quickly enough to rival a ghost. She’d thought she was going mad when Albus first told her or that he was playing some twisted joke on her, but there was not a trace of humour on the old man’s face.

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Sabrina questioned him, tone drowning in disbelief, grip almost tight enough to break the delicate tea cup.

Albus was silent, no longer even sparing her glance - the old man had always been impossible to read but she figured it was either grief or guilt, granted the two often went hand and hand for the puppeteer that was Albus Dumbledore.

Sabrina fought tooth and nail to prove Sirius’ innocence, revealing every card she had available, pulling every trick she ever knew, anything to save him from such a fate. But without Albus vouching for him, it was basically useless.

There was still that horrible feeling in her stomach, that sickening sludge of guilt and mourning - a sensation she didn’t know was possible until Sirius looked at her with those grey eyes, usually so dauntless, laced with tears and fear. He’d wrapped himself around her like a child running to their mother after hearing a scary story, as if he believed she could protect him. She had failed him and lost a third child.

Sabrina didn’t want to see Albus, not after what he’d done (or failed to do), but there was still a question lingering on her tongue. Truth be told, she didn’t want to ask it; knowing would only lead her to complications and remorse, until the guilt inside of her became too much and overflowed to impulsive actions of sympathy.

Still, it had to be asked.

“What of the boy?”

Harry James Potter, only a year old and somehow the catalyst for so much tragedy. But oftentimes a catalyst is never willing to be part of destructive schemes.

Surprisingly, Albus told her the truth about Harry (perhaps that should have been her first sign that something was amiss because the man was hardly ever truthful), but she almost wished she hadn’t known. His honesty had done nothing to ease the growing rage inside of her, only adding fuel to flame.

He didn’t put up a fight when she said she wouldn’t allow Harry to grow up in such an environment, not before she ensured it was safe with her own eyes.

It wasn’t.

On the surface, the Dursley’s seemed like a lovely family. White picket fence, loving marriage, healthy son they spoiled rotten - muggles often examined things at a surface level, leaving well enough alone lest they pry into something ugly. But Vernon and Petunia Dursley held a sinister secret, and it was the screaming baby they left in the upstairs bedroom.

Sabrina wasn’t certain how such a noise didn’t alert the entire neighborhood, but she supposed the eighties weren’t so different from the forties; people swept things under the rug, ignored them unless they were right in their face. Maybe the Dursley’s neighbors willingly ignored the neglected baby boy, or perhaps they did not care enough to hear in the first place.

She lost her breath when she saw him; forest green eyes, hair as black as night… An unforgettable scar that was sure to cause him a lot of harm as he grew older.

Sabrina had promised herself she would finally harden her heart to the world, but how could she when the boy in front of her was innocent to the world, when his only crime was being born? Would she be any better than Albus Dumbledore if she simply allowed him to suffer his entire life?

Having already made up her mind, Sabrina gently cradled the boy, silently promising to never let any harm befall him.

She didn’t know how difficult it would be to keep such a promise.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I am too lazy and a little exhausted in the head. Withdrawal systems are difficult. So, I will just use mostly pictures. Here you go...

It was heavy raining outside and the clear and clean glass windows made the luxurious room of the Colonel magical. His room was as usual, clean as a whistle.

You would make the janitor do heavy duty cleaning every three weeks. Then you would do the rest yourself.

A perfectionist you were. The Colonel leaned back against the huge and soft pillow which he placed before the head rest of his King sized bed.

He looked down at your sleeping form. He smirked in arrogance, seeing how his skills in bed always knocked you out cold.

Quaritch couldn't believe he hit the jackpot when he saw you right here at the base. He was here to oppress and colonize. Never expected to find romance. And to the most beautiful girl ever to exist? Too good to be true.

Quaritch stroked your hair lovingly as you continued dreaming. Did you dream of him like he did of you? He smiled fondly.

He put on a green tank top and shorts. He decided to do some bench presses. He went to the cold amp suit room where he had his makeshift gym.

He lifted his usual 250 pounds plates. Whenever he was around you especially fucking the shit out of you, he felt energized. Like he drank some kind of real energy drink. Feeling young as a college boy.

He wondered if love was the fountain of youth. After an hour and five minutes, Quaritch felt sleepy. It was perhaps two in the morning. He decided to join you in bed. While doing so, he saw something or someone.

It was Sully, sitting alone in the empty cafeteria with a dazed look on his face. The Colonel wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps Sully was stressed by the double life as a spy. Quaritch pitied him.

"Haven't gotten lost in the woods, have you son?" The Colonel teased his subordinate. He grabbed a chain and sat in the opposite position leaning in.

"Your last report was two weeks ago...." Quaritch quirked up a wrinkled eyebrow. "I am starting to doubt your resolve!" He flashed his pearly white teeth.

Sully couldn't look at him the Colonel wondered why.

Quaritch rolled his eyes. He told Sully to quit the mission and told him about the approval of his surgery.

To his suspense, Sully didn't seem happy. The fuck is going on? Quaritch narrowed his eyes. Would a Marine choose the side of a science puke?

"I am a man of my word." Quaritch placed his hand in Sully's shoulder.

Finally, Sully looked at him.

"Colonel, if you loved someone. Would change for them?"

Quaritch was surprised as fuck but kept his cool face.

"Met a girl and will change sides?" He narrowed his eyes.

Jake shook his head no. Quaritch didn't believe him. Something shitty was going on. Sully explained he feels guilty when the bulldozers will come and how he will explain it to his friends at the labs.

Quaritch rolled his eyes. He scoffed. "Fuck those bitches. They are not worth the guilt."

"What about Name?"

The Colonel stared.

"you told her yet?"

The Colonel shook his head. "When the time is right. I will give her the reality check as humane as possible." Quaritch didn't tell anyone. Not even you.

Your elderly trillionaire father died eight nights ago. The unhealthy life on Earth with stress and crime rates usually make people die a young age compared to the people in the past.

Your father aged before his time. Worked hard to make the Earth full of plants and vegetation. Like you, he hated the over developed life and industrializations.

The Colonel was bull shitting you. He wanted to kill the Navis and take their shit like the brute he was. He had a soft spot for you. He loved you. Not just your good looks and carnal desires. He just thought you were too naive and living in a fantasy world. He pitied you. Quaritch didn't want to hurt your feelings.

You like your hippie friends wanted to copy Navis' lifestyle. You loved their spiritual connections to the wonderful nature around them. The Colonel found it cute but would keep his mouth shut as you rambled on about making a better life back on Earth if humans copied the Navi ways.

The Colonel agreed to whatever you said. He joked how you will put him out of business. The program will regain peace with the Navis.

His heart broke for you when you actually believed his sarcasm and jokes. You were that desperate and hated life on Earth.

But, that bitch Augustine must have influenced you more than your optimistic father. The poor man is dead and for what? Nothing. The Colonel didn't want you to end up like your dead father.

"I'll be right next to her when she needs me when she catches on." Quaritch pursed his lips. The thought of you crying made him depressed inside. You were too sheltered.

"I take care of my own."

Sully told Quaritch about being a real Navi man. That he has to stay longer with the clan. And the relocation of the Navi after getting their trust.

Quaritch was dying to kill. He was a solider marine leader. But, he didn't want Name to see him as a monster or hate him even more.

He knew he was going to be hated on by you. You will get over it after he makes a house in the woods for you. Then settle down. Then love him back again.

The Colonel was not like you. He didn't believe in fantasy unless you work hard. He got you by his evil actions of blackmailing. You think honest work can get what you want.

You have to think dirty. That's a fact

He stood up. "You better get it done, Corporal."

Sully was left alone.

Quaritch quietly closed his door as he stepped in. He was not stupid. He knew you would try to break up and leave him when he attacks home tree.

He stripped himself bare again and crawled next to your lithe and supple form.

He will have to think dirty once more to keep you in your place and check your attitude.

It's for your own good and both futures of him and you and eventually your future kids...

For now, he will show his true colors when it represents himself when the bulldozers come. Till then, he will act like the Prince charming you always wanted rather than the warrior who would kill to have you in his arms.

[baatarthefirst]

💚 for Janaya

💚 true love’s kiss / magic kiss / healed

Her queen was dying. She knew it was coming of course, Janai had known that when she'd kissed her the first time. She'd known she was signing up for sorrow when she got to one knee. She had thought knowing would help. Knowing how fleeting their moments were would make surely make it a little easier to watch her beloved wife age so very quickly. In truth, she felt like there was a knife twisting in her heart. If this were easier, then the pain of not knowing would have struck her down on the spot.

Each new grey hair, each new wrinkle...they only had served as reminders, they all gave the same dire message "She's getting more frail by the day. Soon she will be an elder, and soon after that, you will be a widow."

Soon was today. The healers informed her yesterday that it was the end, that her beast of a wife had finally run out of strength. As she laid in their bed, unresponsive to any medical stimulation, Janai prepared a place under the light of the Sun Seed. She dressed Amaya in a fine soldier's uniform and brought her there to face Death in solitude.

She used to joke that Death was too afraid of Amaya to take her away. Amaya would reply that Death was too afraid of Janai to take her away. They'd laugh and promise to fight off the darkness together...well there was no laughing now.

Janai cried and prayed, and begged for a reprieve. "Let me keep her a little longer." she said with a quivering voice "I will do anything you ask." There was no reply. No whisper in the wind, no light glowing from behind Amaya's closed eyes. It would happen any moment now. One second, her wife would be alive, the next she wouldn't; no fanfare, no crying from the earth. It didn't befit a woman such as Amaya, but such was life.

She leaned in, getting one last kiss from her wife, a sweet and gentle goodbye. It was no surprise that Amaya didn't kiss her back, but it hurt Janai nonetheless. It was the raindrop that snuffed out the flame, Janai laid her head on Amaya's stomach and gave into her anguish completely, sobbing without control.

What the Sunfire Queen missed in her grief was a tiny ember floating off the Sun Seed and burning it's way into Amaya's failing heart. She was too lost to feel the breathing beneath her go from irregular and shallow to deep and steady. She didn't see the return of long lost muscles and teeth. She didn't see Amaya's now-white hair get darker and darker, or see her eyes open and focus.

Janai jumped only when she felt a hand on her head. She looked for the person who dare distrub her at this time, only to see a glow on her wife's chest begin to dim and cool, leaving the symbol of the Sun Arcanum over her heart.

"Hey, Beautiful." Amaya signed with a grin, looking no older than Janai. The elf in question had no chance to reply as her wife pulled her in for a deep kiss. Tears ran down both of their cheeks as they held each other tightly.

Tomorrow, the queen would have so many questions including (but not limited to) how, why, could they grow old together this time, and what would she have to do to repay this kindness? Right now none of that mattered. All that did matter was her wife was here, safe and secure in her arms.

They were found in locked in a rather...intimate embrace by a few very surprised healers some hours later.

[pandor-uhhh]

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Warnings: Jake cries, mentions of loss, Jake blaming himself, mentions of family in the hospital

Description: Jake gets visited by someone from his time before pandora

Notes: This request is so fucking cute, this takes place after they move to the Metkayina village

“Kiri, come on!” Tuk pulled on her older sister's arm, wanting to go with Lo’ak and Tsireya to go off the reef. “Go ahead, Tuk, I’ll hang back” Tuk let out a huff and ran off with the other two. Kiri sat on the beach, watching the waves softly ripple. It was late, most of the villagers were inside with their families, but Jake was meeting with Tonowari and  Neytiri had gone hunting, leaving the children to their own devices.

Kiri stood up with a sigh and turned to head home, when she saw a human, she was without a mask though, and her hair was white. Kiri walked towards her, but the woman walked further into the village “hey!” Kiri yelled out, running after the human.

“You need a mask, you’ll die!” Kiri had seen what happened when Spider lost his mask for only a minute, not wanting the woman in front of her to go through that for a fraction of a second.

Kiri got to the center of the village and called out again, Jake came walking out of Tonowari and Ronal’s marui. “Kiri, what’s wrong?” Jake asked, running to his daughters side. “There was a woman, she was just here” Kiri explained, Jake laughed “I’m sure it was just someone walking home-” “-she was human!” Kiri interrupted. Jake kneeled to his daughter’s level “are you sure?” Kiri nodded, “shit!” Jake cursed, standing up.

“Should we gather the warriors?” Tonowari questioned, “no, she’s defenseless” Kiri panicked. Ronal looked at the young girl “we have seen them before, they are anything but defenseless” she spoke through gritted teeth. Kiri shook her head “she doesn’t have a mask!” She exclaimed, which caught Jake and Tonowari’s attention. “She would not have survived this long, if she didn’t” Ronal stated, “unless they found a way to make breathing possible without one” Jake added “I’m going to look, keep her safe” Jake said to Tonowari, pointing to Kiri.

“I’m going with him!” Kiri argued, only for Tonowari to grab her shoulder “I’m sorry, he asked to keep you safe, that is what I intend to do”

Jake made his way around the village, looking for the human, hand on his knife just in case. He found himself on the beach, still searching, till he heard a voice. “You always were the paranoid one” a raspy voice laughed, he turned to see an older woman. Her hair was white, her skin wrinkled with age, and she was in a long dress. She was facing the ocean, but turned her head to Jake “my, how you’ve grown” Jake’s eyes widened.

“Grandma?” He called out, she laughed, “hello, Jake” she smiled. Before Jake left she had been in the hospital, he was told she would likely be gone before Jake finished his six year trip to Pandora. “How- how are you here?- where is your mask!” Jake panicked, the woman let out another raspy laugh “I don’t need a mask! Sit” She motioned to the spot beside her. Jake sat down, never taking his eyes off her, “how did you get here?” He questioned again. “Can’t you just enjoy the company of your grandmother without getting into the ‘how’s and ‘why’s?” she joked, Jake laughed “I can do that”

She looked out to the ocean again, smiling “I’ve always wanted to see the ocean, just one last time. Though I’m glad I get to see this and not the mud puddles of earth” she sighed “I like the ocean” she stated. She put a hand on Jake’s bicep “Mark and your mother would be so proud of you” her eyes filled with tears, so did Jake’s. He hugged the smaller woman tightly, minding the fact he was bigger and stronger. “I hear I have a granddaughter-in-law, and great-grandchildren” Jake broke away and looked down at her “tell me about them” she stated, Jake looked out to the sea.

“Neytiri” Jake smiled, “she- shes beautiful, and strong, and brave, you’d love her” Jake heard a soft chuckle “I’ve heard about her, I already do” Jake didn’t take his eyes off the ocean. “I have four kids… three… I had four, but…” Jake felt his eyes swell with tears, but he wiped them away before they could fall. The woman placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder “I’m sorry” She apologized, Jake shook his head. “There’s Lo’ak, he’s our little trouble-maker. But he saved my life, and his sisters. And he’s got this girl he’s head-over-heels for'' Jake laughed, “reminds me of someone” the woman joked. Jake started pushing around the sand next to him, “there’s Kiri, she’s not biologically ours, but she’ll always be my daughter” 

“I saw her on the beach, she’s a sweet girl, so caring for others” the woman stated, Jake nodded. “Then there’s Tuk, little Tuk” he picked up a shell “she’s been through so much, and she’s so young, I just feel like I’m screwing up” “you protect your children and love them, that’s all a parent can do, Jake” Jake looked at the shell in his hand, and sighed. “Nateyam, he was my eldest” Jake began to cry, but didn’t bother wiping his tears away “he was so strong, so brave. He died protecting his siblings, he just wanted them to be safe” He looked back to the ocean “and now… he’s with his ancestors”

“You did all you could, you raised an amazing boy. He was just taken too soon” the woman comforted, Jake let out a sob “I should’ve been there, I should’ve protected my kids”. “You did” a new voice spoke, Jake turned his head to see Kiri standing there not far from him. She ran over to Jake and hugged him “I’m sorry” he apologized, “I’m so sorry”. Kiri shook her head “it’s not your fault, none of it was any of your fault” she cried, Jake hugged her tight before pulling away. “You were supposed to stay back” he put his hand on her head “ya’ little trouble maker” he joked, rubbing her head, she laughed and dried her tears. 

“Who were you talking to?” Kiri questioned, Jake looked at his daughter with confusion before turning to see the woman was gone. All that remained with a patch of flowers, Jake smiled, “an old friend” he said before placing the shell in the middle of the patch. Jake stood up “let’s go find your siblings, your mom probably caught dinner” Jake picked up his daughter and threw her over his shoulder, walking back the way he came.

Kiri laughed, looking up she saw the woman with white hair standing beside the flowers, she smiled, ‘thank you’ Kiri mouthed. The woman nodded and walked off into the sea, Kiri pushed herself off her fathers shoulder. Jake turned to his daughter, who was now facing the ocean. “What is it, kiddo?” He asked, noticing she was tearing up. 

“I like the ocean”

Thanks for reading (ᵔᴥᵔ)

[bloodystripe5641]

"Bleed, Go on." (Grimdark) [Shugel]

Gift: @yaboymacaroni

...

Chapter 1

...

Miguel opened the door to his house. He knew something was wrong, he normally would just ignore intense drama, and other things.

Miguel was wearing a golden yellow color suit vest, underneath it was a black long sleeved shirt. He was wearing black jeans that were covering his black cowboy boots. And he had orange gloves with red on the palm.

Miguel had a good taste in clothing, Miguel was walking as he closed the front door behind. He then realized something was really wrong. Miguel looked around the room of the living room, he was looking for Shu. The house was dark, Shu hated the dark. When Miguel and Shu would get back home the house would be lit. Miguel was walking slowly not to make any noise.

As he walked down the hallway he smelled something that hit him like a baseball. His eyes widened as he smelt it. His pupils were smaller than pinpricks, he stopped, he looked down to see that his foot was closed with the red splatter. His heart sunk as his jaw dropped. He recognized the splatter.

It was blood.

Shu's blood.

How, and why? It crossed his mind, panic prickled through his spine as he started to breathe heavily. He walked down the hallway of what was gonna be the disaster next.

He then stopped abruptly. He saw the door of the kitchen was closed, under the door the kitchen's light was lit. Miguel then heard Shu's grunts, screams, and painful yelling. He was fighting something, or someone. Miguel's blood boiled with rage as he lifted his leg, he kicked the kitchen door open with such force that the handle lodged in the wall.

"What in the hillbilly hell is going on-" Miguel yelled but was cut off. He stood there as he saw the woman.

Blood-scent hit him with the same level of force, lodging in his nose and throat like barbs. His nostrils flared. His eyes widened. His mouth became a shrinking zero of surprise and horror.

Damn it, he should be moving! Why was she just staring like a deer on a train track as the Spain Express barrelled towards it?

The wolf-man on her hind legs looked over his shoulder and smiled. It was, in all fairness, a nice smile on a nice face; a backdrop of brown fur and eyes that crinkled at their corners. This face, those wrinkles seemed to say, smiles a lot.

It wasn’t until you got to the eyes that your opinion changed. Even then, some people might not realise. People were not always perceptive when it came to spotting dangers amongst their own kind. They were a race focussed outward, looking for hazards from outside their perfect little society. It was probably some throwback to a bygone age when they lived in castles and had never conceived of things like cities, houses or mass murdering psychopaths. People didn’t kill. People didn’t hunt their own. Miguel had always found it a useful characteristic, to various ends of him own. The canine’s raw presence was intoxicating. She didn’t even need to say anything. He just had to be and ponies flocked to him. They never saw the pinpricks of cunning deep in those eyes. They didn’t recognise the calculation in his every nod and gesture. Mostly they never got past the smile. Not until it was too late.

Miguel remembered that smile all too well.

The wolf then slowly transformed into a human. Her brown hair was sleeked back with curls, her sharp teeth turned into nubby teeth, she was wearing a black suit vest, underneath it was a whites shirt with rolled up sleeves, she was also wearing black pants with dress suits.

“You’re home!” Her voice was as beautiful as the rest of her. A slight accent clung to his words, not enough to be noticeable but enough to make her speech patterns more formal and attractive to the ear. A true predator did not miss any trick. “We were beginning to think you were not coming, my dear little one. Were you waylaid at work?”

Miguel tried hard to keep himself steady. “Put him down, Daciana.”

“Well there’s a nice hello – and after I made such an effort to be civil, too.”

“Put him down now.”

She shifted his gaze. “Oh, but we were having such fun waiting for you to arrive. You always did have such good tastes, my dear. I see that hasn’t changed.” She grinned. “I might have had a little taste. You did keep us waiting an awfully long time.”

Shu’s eyes were huge with panic. He stared at Miguel and might have run to him, had she not pinned him against the wall beside the counter with his feet off the ground. There was blood on his shoulder. It didn’t show red, just darkened his white skin into black bruises where Daciana’s mouth had been. Several dark lines traced a path like filigree to his fingertips. He had bled enough to make spatters on the floor.

“M-Miguel,” he stuttered. “Run!”

“Miguel?” She chuckle coated his name like an oil slick. “Seriously? All the names in the world you could have gone with and that was your choice?” She shook her head. “So did you name yourself after the movie named 'Coco' or the artist? No, wait, I see you have been drawing on yourself. Musical notes? The record then. I am disappointed in you, Maclean. I thought you had more imagination.”

Don’tfreakdon’tfreakdon’tfreakdon’tfreak-

Miguel’s mind tripped over itself as he fought the simultaneous impulses to run, fight and just stand there gawping. That voice. That damned voice! He had spent too many sleepless hours trying to tear it out of his memory – and now here it was. Here she was.

Here.

In his kitchen

In his home.

She couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t let her be here.

Stupid stupid stupid! This is all my fault. I should have guessed. I should have known.

She was watching him.

Miguel swallowed back his recriminations. “Put him down. You know you don’t want him.”

“Don’t I?” Her tone remained playful. It was a thin veneer.

“No. You want me.”

Shu looked between the two of them. He had no idea. He had no friggin’ clue. Oh, he had an inkling of how much danger he was in. His bleeding shoulder and fear-stink told even Miguel’s pitiful senses that much. Yet he didn’t know the rest. He didn’t know who Daciana was – what Daciana was - or why she was here, otherwise he wouldn’t be telling Miguel to run.

Or maybe he would. This was Shu after all.

The kitchen was a mess. He had fought her. Somehow that pleased Miguel. No way would his boy go down without a fight. No friggin’ way.

Except this was Daciana and that was a very, very stupid way to think. If she had allowed Shu to fight back, it wasn’t because he posed an actual threat. Ninety-nine percent of everything she did was just for his own amusement or gain. The remaining one percent … Miguel didn’t even want to think about that.

“Ohhhhhh.” The word became a purr in Daciana’s throat. “Offering yourself up? Trying to exchange yourself? How noble.”

Shu squeaked as she pulled him closer. Miguel’s spine prickled with panic and anger. She nuzzled into Shu’s throat, inhaling the terrified earth human’s scent like a kitten finding a nice spot to nap.

“Leave him alone, Daciana!” Miguel gritted.

“I was wondering whether you’d set up house here with a pet. It was the most palatable option I could think of when I first tracked you down. Do you know what I saw when I first spotted you in this squalid little bit of a suburban nightmare?” Her lip curled, revealing a hint of curvature. Shu trembled. “I saw you carrying groceries, of all things, through the front door. Brown paper bags! Utterly mundane. Utterly not you. But a pet would be acceptable. Tell me she’s a pet, Maclean. Tell me you haven’t been as stupid as I suspect you have been.”

“M-Miguel, what’s going on?” Shu whispered.

Miguel glared as if the strength of his eyes alone was enough to floor her. “Put. Him. Down.”

“Oh dear,” Daciana sighed. “I had hoped you had not fallen into such triteness as to shack up with a mortal to act out the plot of some subpar romance novel. Please do not tell me you believe you love her, Maclean. That would be too, too cliché, even for you.”

Miguel didn’t answer. What was he supposed to say? Confirming or denying the truth would only end badly. The old urge to comply rose inside her. She shifted her gaze, avoiding meeting his eyes directly.

Keep it together! That isn’t you anymore. You don’t have to do as she says. You have your own mind and she can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Keep! It! Together! Miguel!

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” Daciana pulled away from Shu, shaking her head. “Such a shame. And here was I, thinking we were going to be reunited amidst wonderous surprise that you are alive after all and declarations that you had finally seen the error of your ways and planned to come back to where you belong.” She smiled. There was less warmth in it than a blizzard. “I did, after all, think you were gone from this world. I mourned you, Maclean. I am so …” She paused as if to relish the word. “Happy to find I was mistaken.”

Mourned him? Now that was funny.

“M-Miguel?” Shu’s cheeks were wet. He wasn’t gulping air the way he did when he was upset or got so angry she made himself cry with frustration. Terrified tears leaked silently from the corners of his eyes.

“This ‘Miguel’ name. I do not like it. Stop calling her that.” Daciana shook him for good measure. Shu’s head joggled like a balloon on a stick.

“Daciana, stop this!” Miguel cursed the desperation that crept into his voice.

“Why do you not call me ‘Mommy', Maclean? Anyone would think you do not care for me at all.”

Miguel couldn’t look away from Shu. I’m sorry, he thought. I’m so, so sorry. I should have told you. I should have been more honest, but how could I? How could you have believed me?

And even if, by some miracle, Shu had believed the wild and crazy story, what then? He would have left Miguel – or if he hadn’t, he would never have had peace of mind again. The truth would have stolen something from both of them that they could never get back. The only debatable things were ‘what’ and ‘how much’.

Daciana glanced sharply at Miguel. The sudden movement dragged her attention away from Shu. The whites of her eyes had darkened to pink. He recognised the sudden burst of anger thinning her pupils into slits. His stomach lurched. He took an involuntary step forward, foreleg raised as if He wanted to pull her off her prey.

It was the worst thing he could have done.

“I thought so.” Daciana’s mild tone did not match his expression at all. “You have fallen for this one. Oh, Maclean. My poor, poor dear little Maclean. Do you not know that this is pure foolishness? Lay with mortals, certainly, but never fool yourself into thinking you love them. And certainly do not leave your family for them.” Pink shadowed into red as he turned his attention back to Shu, hugging him tight against her like a lover. “Was that why you made believe you were dead? For this little scrap of flesh and bone and … feelings?” Her lip curled. “Yes. Yes, I think so. The way you look at him and she looks at you. He has taken your heart.”

Shu’s chin rested on his shoulder facing Miguel. He opened her mouth to speak again. Faster than Miguel could blink, Daciana’s elbow jutted out and then forward. A wet crunch echoed off the kitchen walls.

“No!” The cry ripped from Miguel as Shu gasped and sagged.

“Whoops. I think I just broke his.”

[erineverly]

❝   guess  who’s  home  early!  where’s  my…  oh,  my  goodness.   ❞   erin’s  nose  wrinkles  in  tandem  with  her  brow,  her  lips  parting  in  disbelief  as  she  fails  to  conceal  how  she’s  really  feeling  about  the  sight  in  front  of  her.  a  flurry  of  emotions  flickers  across  her  features  and  eventually  a  full-bodied  sigh  escapes  her.  she  definitely  needs  a  moment  to  process  the  fact  that  her precious,  sweet,  angelic  baby  girl  is  dressed  as  m.ichael  m.yers,  running  towards  her  on  her  wobbly  legs,  clutching  a  plastic  knife  in  her  tiny  hand,  eager  to  greet  the  curly-haired  brunette  and  show  off  her  brand  new  outfit  —  the  infamous  mechanic  jumpsuit  paired  with  ghostly  pale,  creepy-looking  mask,  ketchup  smeared  all  over,  imitating  blood.  as  erin  struggles  to  understand  why  on  earth  anyone  would  think  this  is  a  great  idea and  an  age-appropriate   halloween  costume,  m.eegan  remains  perched  on  the  leather  couch,  laughing  so  hard  that  it’s  a  wonder  she  hasn’t  busted  a  lung  yet.

today  is  evie’s  first  halloween,  or  at  least  the  first  one  where  she  kind  of  understands  the  idea  of  dressing  up  and  can  go  from  one  house  to  another  with  her  mom,  admire  the  decorations  and  enjoy  some  candy.  she’s  still  too  young  to  understand  what  this  holiday  is  all  about,  neither  can  she  truly  grasp  the  meaning  of  most  halloween  costumes  (  including  the  one  she’s  wearing  right  now  ).  which  is  why  erin  made  sure  to  plan  her  outfit  months  in  advance,  every  detail  meticulously  tended  to  and  taken  care  of  —  she  wanted  to  put  her  daughter  in  something  cute,  but  also  something  that  she  could  wrap  her  head  around,  something  that  would  put  a  giant  smile  on  her  face.  

just  like  her  own  mother  when  she  was  about  the  same  age,  evie  is  obsessed  with  disney  princesses  and  there’s  one  in  particular  that  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  little  girl  —  snow  white.  every  time  she  spots  her  favorite  character  on  the  tv,  her  pale  skin,  dark  curls  and  the  red  headband,  evie  goes  absolutely  ballistic.  there’s  nothing  the  little  girl  loves  more  than  snow  white.  which  is  why  erin  spent  hours,  stayed  up  late  and  woke  up  early,  trying  to  sew  the  most  beautiful  costume  on  the  planet…  and  now  her  child  is  dressed  as  a  murderer  and  having  the  time  of  her  life.  great,  just  great.

❝   pwetty.  pwetty  pwincess,   ❞   evie  chirps  in  her  tiny  voice,  smiling  disarmingly  at  her  mom.  erin  doesn’t  want  to  break  her  innocent  heart  so,  despite  feeling  nauseous,  she  crouches  down  and  pretends  to  be  completely  in  awe  of  the  costume  that’s  being  presented  to  her.  her  hand  lands  over  her  heart  and  she  gasps  again,  watching  her  baby  twirl  and  dance  happily.   ❝   ev  and  i  decided  this  is  way  prettier  than  the  princess  costume,   ❞   meegan  explains,  practically  beaming  at  her  friend,  clearly  oblivious  to  how  inappropriate  it  is  to  dress  a  toddler  in  a  costume  that  represents  all  kinds  of  evil  things.  they  could  have  as  well  picked  the  grim  reaper,  erin  thinks  to  herself,  fighting  off  the  urge  to  tell  the  other  how  she  feels.  she  doesn’t  want  to  sound  mean  or  come  off  as  ungrateful,  after  all  meegan  does  spend  a  lot  of  time  with  evie  and  babysits  her  whenever  erin  needs  to  go  to  work  or  wants  a  moment  to  herself,  but…  this  is  a  lot  to  take  in.

❝   isn’t  this  the  funniest  thing  ever?  the  coolest  halloween  costume,  right?   ❞   meegan  asks,  giggling  as  she  gently  pats  the  toddler  on  the  back.  erin  can  only  shake  her  head  in  response,  afraid  if  she  utters  even  just  a  word,  she’ll  end  up  fighting  with  her  best  friend  in  front  of  her  daughter  or  worse…  hurt  meagan’s  feelings.  they  clearly  have  a  different  definition  of  a  cool  halloween  costume  and  fun.  she  doesn’t  find  it  one  bit  funny,  especially  when  she  thinks  about  how  much  evie  hates  getting  her  curls  wet  and  screams  bloody  murder  every  time  she  as  much  as  reaches  for  the  shampoo  bottle,  and  she’ll  have  to  somehow  get  all  the  fake  blood  out  of  her  hair.  amazing. besides,  putting  an  innocent  baby  in  a  costume  so  scary  and  vile  should  be  illegal.  for  little  children  halloween  should  be  all  about  cuteness,  making  caramel  apples,  visiting  pumpkin  patches,  baking  cookies,  not  gore  and  slasher  films  and  haunted  houses.  m.ichael  m.yers  isn’t  just  an  inappropriate  costume  choice,  it’s  disturbing  and  says  a  lot  about  the  child’s  parents.  grown  ups  can  dress  as  whatever,  sultry,  scary,  it  doesn’t  matter  because  grown  ups  can  understand  the  meaning  of  what  they’re  wearing.  but  children?  they’re  simply  too  little.  she’s  been  planning  on  taking  a  bunch  of  pictures  of  evie  tonight  and  she  wants  to  be  able  to  show  them  to  her  friends  without  cringing.

❝   mhm,  wow  —  you  look  beautiful,  honeybun,  but  mommy  though  you  wanted  to  be  snow  white  and  wear  the  cute  dress?  and  the  red  headband?  come  on,  it’s  getting  late.  we  should  probably  change  while  we  still  have  some  time  left,   ❞   erin  subtly  suggests,  but  the  toddler  shakes  her  head  and  even  stomps  her  foot  stubbornly.  a  sigh  falls  from  the  brunette’s  lips.  and  so  it  begins,  she  thinks,  deciding  she’ll  have  to  have  a  serious  conversation  with  meegan  about  all  this  later  tonight.  it’s  ridiculous… 

[mrneighbourlove]

The Long Years Ahead: Ch 1. The Sunset

The age of peace came by, every year building a golden age. Sitting on her porch, Leere strummed her guitar, trying to come up with a new tune. Walking onto the porch, Sunny took a seat beside her. The blonde rancher had a radiance to her, even with years of experience now. Leaning over, she kissed Leere on the cheek, looking at her with almost pure fascination. 

Leere looked back over to her, being happily puzzled by her wife's expression. With a chuckle, she stopped her strumming. "What?"

Sunny shrugged, shaking her head. "Oh, just admiring the best choice I ever made in my life." 

Leere knew the feeling. Today, the two of them celebrated their 35th anniversary. It was a day of mostly relaxation, cooking each other their favourite meals, and receiving some gifts from old friends and family. The sage put her hand up to Sunny, brushing her cheek. "I feel the same way."

Despite their difference in age, with Leere being much older, out of the two of them, Sunny was the one with wrinkles on her face. Some of the golden locks of her hair had also started to turn a silvery white. Looking her over, Leere had a twinge in her expression. This was something that Sunny picked up on immediately. "What?"

"What do you mean what?"

"Leere Dragmire Ingo. Don't give me that. You have something brooding in that noggin of yours. What is it?"

Setting her guitar down, Leere knew she couldn't hide anything from Sunny. Relenting, she spoke her mind. "Sunny. You only grow more beautiful to me with the years. But I look at you, and then I look at myself. I don't have the same wrinkles as you. And I don't think I can grow white hair."

"You know many women would kill to look as clear and young as you."

"Sure, girls maybe. Those who don't have the wisdom to know that growing old with those you love is a blessing." 

Sunny raised a brow, before chuckling. "You have a way with words. You're probably a late bloomer. Maybe Mortuus are like those Hasai folk. You look amazing till you hit eighty or ninety, then age suddenly catches up with you. When that happens, I'll still love you. Prunes and all."

That got a roar out of Leere. Laughing, her worries were set to the side. "Prunes eh? I'll hold you to that."

Perched not too far away in a barn, Modoc, once known as Bonegrinder, shaman of the Echidnan’s and leader of the Hive organization, watched the couple carefully and quietly. After the war between Chaos and Balance, Modoc opted to live a relatively quiet life. For a while, Blue and White pestered him to return to Omisha. Yet, there were too many memories there for him of his mate and hatchlings. Mother even offered him a place in training the next generation of Echidnan shamans, but he declined for the time being, wanting some time to himself to reflect. 

Of course, there was the very irritating fact that he could not be separated from Leere for long. Since she had brought him back, and his fate was tied to hers, being apart was physically painful. So, he had opted to stay on the farm with Leere and Sunny. This made it very easy for him to annoy the necromancer whenever possible, but he was always courteous to Sunny and did as she asked. When Joy visited, he was more than happy to be her mentor and spend time with his nephew, Napochi, as well. 

Sighing, the Anagari lounged in a large cherry tree near the property. Galaxia had shouted at him to move his ass, but he had ignored her and the others. He did not necessarily care for Sunny's siblings, seeing most of them rather shoot him on the spot instead of treat him like an actual being with a soul. Grumbling, he popped a few more cherries into his mouth and tried to think of when Joy's next visit would be. She was very happy in Omisha with Napochi and expanded her studies of Echidnan magic and medicine.

Leere gave her wife another kiss, thinking things over. “How about this. No more magic.”

That certainly surprised her. “What do you mean by that?”

“Maybe if I stop using magic, I can actually start to look my age. I think I’m in my eighties. I’m a great auntie for crying out loud. I should look the part.”

Sunny held Leere’s hands gently. She knew how much of a commitment this was. “You sure?”

“I am. I love you my sunshine.”

“And you my moonlight.”

~

Leere kept her vows for another ten years. Time forever marched forward. Around her, those she loved grew old. People she cared for walked into the embrace of death. Siblings. Family in Law. Friends. Every day Leere looked in the mirror, looking for change in her appearance. But age had not touched her.

Her daughter was a fully grown woman now. Joy looked so much like Sunny in her prime. A prime that had since long vanished for her wife..

Sitting on a bench, Sunny was retired now. Her muscles had since softened, her hair had turned fully white, and her skin no longer smooth. This didn’t change the love Leere had for her, but it did break her heart. 

Making her way over in a blue dress, Leere sat beside her wife. “Hello beautiful.”

“Hello gorgeous.” Sunny watched as Leere’s lip curled into a smile. Every compliment her wife was given was an easy way to get her to feel better. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Just fine.”

Sunny, seemingly satisfied, slowly offered a hand. “Come here.”

Hiding her pain, Leere took her wife’s hand and nuzzled her nose. These days, Sunny enjoyed sightseeing on the bench and around the ranch. Leere took a long look out over the land of Hyrule. After all she did, why was she being punished?

Sitting together, Leere felt Sunny gently rub her head against Leere’s neck. It was comforting for certain. 

It didn’t take long for Sunny to fall asleep on the bench. Careful to not wake her as she rose off, Leere draped a blanket over her, making sure she’d be comfortable. Once she was done, she silently crept her way to the barn. Gripping the wood, silent tears came down as she cursed herself. “Please… it’s not fair.”

To the Anagari, time was creeping by way too slowly for his liking. Modoc had been dozing in the barn when he heard Leere make her entrance. Here the woman was lamenting her fate again. Grumbling, he tried to bury further into the hay but could not drown out the noise of Leere's silently sobbing. This was getting old really quick, especially during his nap time. Lately, Leere was so upset about Sunny aging, that it was driving the shaman up the wall. He figured it was something to do along those lines once more, groaning as he slithered out of his makeshift nest of hay with a loud yawn.

"What are you sniffling about this time?" Modoc leaned over the loft to look down at Leere, "You've been such a crybaby lately, just like when you were little."

Modoc’s callousness caught Leere off guard more than him hiding. With a quick wipe of her eyes, she turned to him. “What?”

"Look, if you're blubbering about Sunny or Joy, then you really should have thought through what you were doing in the first place." Modoc was still bitter about Leere bringing him back to life, and had very little patience with the woman now. "What's the big deal with you getting so emotional about them aging anyway?"

“I’m not aging with them you bastard!” Leere was bitter and reaching a breaking point. “I don’t know why!”

"... pfffffttt..." Modoc tried not to laugh, but failed in doing so. "Leere, are you really that dense?"

“I haven’t used any magic in over a decade now! I’ve cut my ties as a sage to the shadows. A Mortuus should be showing some kind of aging by now, shouldn’t I?”

"For all your brilliance, I never assumed this would fly right over your head." Modoc was not sure whether to laugh some more or actually feel sorry for Leere. Then again, it was her fault he was still stuck here, stuck with her. Sighing, he rolled his wrist in a dramatic flare, "If you want some proper answers, why don't you go ask that lovely death goddess you made a deal with?"

He then held up one finger, "And no, I'm not telling you cause I don't want you yelling at me for the next hour."

“I- I made a vow of no magic. Would she even come to see me?”

"You don't have to use magic when you go to her temple, just a sacrifice of blood." Modoc reminded Leere, "There's one here in Hyrule, in Omisha, or in Lorleidi."

Leere took a breath. “Can I ask you to look after Sunny while I go to a temple? Or is that too much to ask?”

"Of course I can look after dear sunshine," Modoc stretched lazily and then slithered down from the hayloft. "She's tolerable, unlike you. And she's nice to me."

“You don’t have to be so cold.” Grabbing a horse by its reins and leading it out of the barn, Leere mounted herself up.

"And you didn't have to suddenly avoid me when you wanted to play house all those years ago, but you did." Modoc snorted at her words, the bitterness evident in his voice. He was close to ranting. "I was there for you, and you just... forgot about me. Forgot about us. Shunned me and the others because you were so afraid of 'monsters' influencing your precious baby girl." He scoffed, "Didn't even want us around. So, do forgive me if I'm still a little salty about that, not to mention the fact that, oh, I don't know, you brought me back from the dead?" 

He waved the conversation away in dismissal, "I'll keep an eye on Sunny and help her into the house. You go." 

Leere felt her mind race with over a dozen retorts. But they didn’t matter. She doubted he would listen. With a lash of the reins, she rode out of the barn and jumped over the fence to ride towards the temple of death. 

On her journey, Leere felt a sense of looming dread come over her. Frowning, she tried to shake it off as she arrived at her destination. Getting off and tying her horse to a post, she thanked some of the temple clerics for letting her in so late. Asking for some privacy, Leere was led to the central chamber. Here, she was handed a knife before the clerics left her to her dealings. 

Carefully, Leere took the knife, cutting her finger open. She let the blood drip down into a bowl. “Zarazu. Black as the night, cold as death. I summon you to answer my prayer.”

The goddess of death did not expect to be called upon by Leere so soon. Of course, time was different for deities than it was for human beings. To the heavens, time passed by so slow, while to the humans, it was fast. Rising from the black water, the goddess was accompanied by her beloved poes who existed to serve her and the rest of the afterlife.

"Shadow Sage," Zarazu floated in front of Leere with an expression of surprise mixed delight, "What brings you to my temple?"

Leere noticed that the poes that flew around the Goddess of Death this time were different this time. Instead of two brothers, four sisters flew around her. Red, Blue, Green, and Purple. Giving a customary respectful bow of the head, Leere spoke her mind. “Zarazu. I haven’t been a Sage for over a decade. I haven’t even practiced any magic. Yet I have not aged a single day. Time marched forward for my brothers, my sisters, and my wife and my daughter. Some have even been taken by your embrace. But time has danced around me. Thy own flesh has not wilted. My hair has not turned grey. I am watching those I love progress around me, while I stand still here. What is happening to me? Why am I still not growing old?”

The Poe with red flames laughed harshly. “This fool doesn’t know.”

The one in blue cackled in return. “I don’t think she does Joelle.”

“Maybe her brain has rotten Beth. What do you think, Amy?”

The Poe in green spun her flames around. “I think the goddess of death should break the heart of her 4th favourite mortal.”

"Now, now, calm yourselves and remember your manners," Zarazu told her poes with a soft chiding to her voice, "Remember, mortals feel and experience emotions and life differently than us." Turning to Leere, the beautiful goddess supposed that the recent Shadow Sage did not truly understand the details of her previous deal regarding Modoc. The Anagari shaman had definitely blasphemed against her and her counterpart, Ba'puu, many times since he was revived, so it was no surprise he did not elaborate upon the inner workings of Leere's 'punishment'.

She held up a hand, palm upturned, "Leere, do you recall the deal that you made before the war of Chaos?"

“Yes. We needed a powerful warrior that held knowledge of long forgotten magics that could be used against the forces of Chaos. Modoc was wrongly taken before his time, dying as a host for a God. He deserved another chance at life, as well as a chance to avenge his family. I took the oath after resurrecting him. That Modoc and I would be bound till death. If one of us were to die, the other would quickly follow. Come old age or combat, given the war.”

"Yes, exactly that." Zarazu still saw the confusion in Leere's eyes, so the goddess realized she was going to have to clarify. "Leere, if one of you were to die. Echidnans live several hundred years. Humans do not live so long." The goddess saw Leere's expression slowly start to change. "You tied Modoc to yourself, and in doing so, you also tied yourself to him." She gave a soft frown at the sudden realization dawning on the poor woman. "You will not age because Modoc is not aging."

Leere’s red eyes opened wide, the revelation hitting her hard. Her mouth left a gap, Leere couldn’t find her nerves for the moment. “I- I can’t-“

Flying around her, Meg, the sister in purple cloth and flame taunted the woman. “You can’t age. You won’t age. And we both know you don’t have the nerve to take your own life. Leere Dragmire. Did you think you were free from consequences? You made a point to live a long life, to deny Death of the flock she deserves. I’m surprised you are upset. You cheat death often enough. You will have a long, healthy life ahead of you. And when you die, Hell can have you.”

Leere looked to the Poe sister, anger being the first emotion to come back to her. “No! That’s not my fate!”

Meg split herself into four copy images, dancing around Leere. “In your youth, you destroyed the souls of others to keep yourself young and powerful.”

“Criminals! Murders! Rapists!”

“You denied them redemption or an afterlife. You are not a Goddess or a Demon. You never had the right. And then there is your friend. You tore him away from his afterlife.”

“To save the world!” Leere looked back to Zarazu, somewhere between pleading and yelling. “I don’t deserve this! I’ve done so much good in the name of others! Please! Let me grow old! Let me be with my family in the afterlife!”

"Leere, what's done is done," The goddess of death hated to see the woman so distraught, but it was part of the terms of the deal. The magic was already sealed. The deed was already done. It could not be broken. "You have done both wrong and right, bad and good, all which argues your case, but to mess with the soul of someone who has lived their time, comes with a price." 

She reiterated, "Sharp and Flat both agreed that your deal was fitting. It gave you the results you wanted, but also came with a downside for you. That downside... was being denied death yourself." Zarazu stated slowly, "Just as you denied Modoc his eternal rest."

Leere gripped her fists, shouting out towards the Goddess, her voice full of desperation. “Then sever the link! We both want to die and be with those we love!!! You have that power!”

"I do have the power to take the souls who are ready to pass on, Leere," Zarazu corrected the Mortuus with a sad smile, "But you have reset the clock. My touch," Her hand wafted through Leere as she was a specter, having no effect on the woman, "Cannot collect your soul until it is time. I cannot sever any links. I cannot give you death while your soul is still in the hands of my counterpart."

“I’m not a fucking martyr! I heard what Klinge did. He’s your servant. I’m not going to wait hundreds of years till natural death to be your puppet for another hundred!”

"Klinge made a deal to have the souls of the dead as an army," Zarazu told Leere, crossing her arms, "Not to bring back a loved one. In exchange, he is to be my servant until all of his line passes." She shrugged her shoulders, "Who knows how many hundreds of years that may take." Then she waved a finger in front of Leere's face, "No, not my puppet, my dear, you made no such deal. When you pass, then you have no work left to do."

The poes grew restless, each of their flames burning with anger, spite, and petty cruelty. Meg once again taunted Leere, cackling with her sisters. “She’s going to deliver you to the gates of nothingness, Leere. A fitting Hell for the empty woman.”

“No! I don’t accept that!”

"No one knows their fate until it is their time," Zarazu told the poes, "You can quit antagonizing her now."

“But it’s so fun.”

Leere scowled, looking up at Zarazu with a hatred burning in her. “After everything I did, this is my reward. When I see you again, I’m spitting in your face. Goodbye.” 

Angry, Leere turned the bowl over to sever the connection. Watching the Goddess disappear from sight, she held out a hand to say something, but was unable to. The poe sisters vanished alongside her as Leere stormed out of the temple. She would not accept this.

Back on the farm, Modoc had kept Sunny company after she woke from her nap. The Anagari was being good company to the old woman. Currently, she was laughing at a tale from the shaman's youth.

"Ah, I see how it is, laughing at my pain?" Modoc could not help but chuckle a bit too, "Yes, I know that it was pretty funny that I fell out of the tree into the river while I was spying on Akihara." He gave a small snort, "I never had the courage to talk to her, so I figured the best thing I could do was watch her from afar. Never thought the first time she talked to me, I'd be covered in algae and mud."

The old woman chuckled, rocking back and forth in her chair. “She had a sharp eye for certain. Sometimes playing the fool can have its benefits.”

"I certainly felt like a fool," Modoc gave a hearty laugh, "But I was a fool in love. It took me nearly a decade to woo her, you know?" He fixed the blanket on Sunny's legs with his tail, just in case she was cold. "I was training to be a shaman then. I didn't even have these yet," The Anagari rubbed underneath his eyes at the white tattoos there for emphasis, "She told me that she would be my mate once I became a shaman. You bet your ass I learned magic as fast as I could."

“I just had to scoot up beside Leere to win her heart. One look at me and she was head over heels.”

"Of course she was," Modoc grinned widely, "Leere has always had three weaknesses over her life. One, a pretty face. Two, a sweet personality. And three," He gestured in front of his chest, making a huge boob motion. "A huge set of tits."

Sunny merely smiled in response. “I’m glad I still have the first two.”

"You know that Leere was so smitten with you," Modoc rested his chin on his arms, lounging in front of Sunny. "That you were all she talked about for weeks. Of course, when I said I wanted to meet you, she vetoed that idea." He admitted to Sunny, "I'm still pretty salty about her saying I'd be a bad influence." The Anagari held up his nose, pretending to be super offended, but making light of it for Sunny. "Saying that 'monsters' have no place with humans." He then flicked his tail, "Joke's on her, I met you anyway."

“She never said that. It was a time of uncertainty. Raising a daughter during… that calamity. She never wanted Joy to be scared. But she never stopped caring about you Modoc. Leere just… you know how stubborn she can be. She doesn’t get everything right, but she tries her best.”

"Being stubborn never gave her the right to be a jerk." Modoc shifted his coils a little, "I should know, I was the biggest dick on the earth. Even when Prama was not influencing my mind, there were times I regret it as well. Even so," The Anagari sighed, the tip of his tail twitching back and forth, "Joy is happy. Napochi is happy. Sometimes, I wish Leere would just be..." He paused for a moment before managing to say, "Content. Always looking for, always expecting, always thinking of the worst. I used to be that way."

Before Sunny could reply, Leere galloped towards the two. Immediately jumping off her horse, her body was completely ready for a fight. Pointing at Modoc, Leere thrust her finger toward him, as if she could cut through as easily as a hot knife through butter. "Did you know? Did you know the truth?!"

Sunny called out, feeling the storm that was raging in Leere. "Know what? Leere, what's wrong."

"Modoc. He's the missing link on why I'm not getting any older. The bond we made is so that I share his lifespan. And because he can live for over a thousand years, I will too." Leere’s face was contorted with pain unlike anything she felt before. "Zarazu didn't tell me, when I made the deal with her. You can never take the word of a god, spirit or fey at surface level. But you could have saved me a lot of grief if you gave me time to process this. I'll ask again. Did you know?" 

Modoc already felt highly annoyed at Leere's anger. While the Anagari had always cared for Leere, and considered her a part of his family, after she brought him back from the dead, he was a bit more callous. More bitter. Definitely distant. Yet, he figured that he had to make the best of the situation for the time he was stuck here. The shaman figured he could at least watch after Joy and his nephews once more.  With an irritated sigh, Modoc rose upward from his comfortable, curled coils position and turned to face Leere.

"And what if I did?" Modoc retorted, his arms crossed, more so out of aggravation than any other emotion. "Why do you think I made you swear not to bring me back? I know the price of necromancy, the price that the goddess of death demands, I've seen it happen to others. I did not want that for you."

"I didn't have a choice. I wanted to save the world. And- and I wanted my friend back." Leere felt incredibly light, admitting her reasons; both selfish and selfless. "How could you not tell me?"

"How could I tell you?!" Modoc raised his voice a little, sounding a bit broken, even a touch desperate. His scales flickered across his body, an obvious sign of distress. It was clear this subject was bothering him. "How could I tell one of the people that I treasured the most that they're going to be stuck here?! Because of me?!" He threw his hands up, "And that there's nothing I can do to change it?! To make you hate me less!!!"

Leere's emotions boiled and boiled, and like a switch, all her magic she repressed started coming back to her. Dropping to her knees, she curled her hands into fists. Raising them in the air, she let out a primal scream of agony, slamming them into the earth. As she did, black ghastly energy surged out, screeching like exposed exhaust. 

Using her strength, Sunny found the courage in her to approach her wife. Kneeling down to her, she gently took hold of her. "Leere. I'm here."

Raising her face, Leere held an expression of complete defeat. "It's not fair. I'm going to lose you. And I won't get you back." 

"I'm here now."

"I'm so sorry Sunny. I'm so sorry for doing this to us."

"You did what you thought was best." 

"The spirits hate me. You should too."

"Hylia's light will always love you. And so will I."

"What- what do I do? What can I do?" 

"You cry. You cry..."

The Necromancer looked to her wife, listening to the softness of her voice. The comfort amidst the pain erased the woman’s guard around her emotions. It was in that moment of Sunny’s comfort that Leere's red eyes spilled over with tears. She held onto Sunny, afraid that she would lose her if she let go. Not since the loss of her mother, did she wail so much in her life. 

Modoc had no words for Leere. One of the benefits of being an Echidnan shaman was exposure and mastery of all kinds of magic, with the exception of necromancy and celestial. A downfall, however, was knowing all of the consequences. Now, since he and Leere were connected by their souls, his time was hers. It was a curse for the woman. There was no deal to be made with deities which did not have a price to pay.

As Leere sobbed and held onto Sunny, Modoc did not move from his spot on the porch. What could he do? He had been in Leere's position before when his family was taken from him. He wanted to die... but he could not.

~

Seven more years passed. In that time together,  Sunny’s strength started to whittle away. A much smaller woman, her hearing had started to go. Then her ability to travel far on her own. 

Every day, every single day, Leere would do her best to be happy and lively for the both of them. She would sing to her, dance when Sunny had the energy, and tell stories. 

Joy, a much older and experienced woman herself now, would visit often to check on her mothers health. She didn’t take to Leere’s curse with any enthusiasm. There was a day she stood side by side with her parents for a photo op. After looking at the photos, Joy felt her heart ache when she saw how old Sunny was in appearance compared to Leere and how she was older than her other mother, Leere, in physical health. Leere knew it too, and whenever they stared at one another for too long, a deep sadness grew between the two. Despite the familial bonds, truth was, Leere was starting to lose that sense of connection with her nieces and nephews as well. Both her and Joy were sometimes thankful the latter chose to not have any children. How would they ever explain to them the curse that had a hold on their grandmother?

One day, after Sunny was found slipping in and out of consciousness, Joy performed an examination on her. As Sunny slept, Joy sighed, looking at Leere. “Mom… I’ll be blunt. I don’t think mama is going to make it to tomorrow.”

Leere squeezed her daughter's hand, slowly nodding in agreement. Her voice was silent of any emotion. “Okay…”

Joy took a deep breath, squeezing back. Getting down on her knees, she made sure to look her mother in the eye at the same level. “Mom. I’ve made peace with Mama. She’s going to find peace in the Goddess’ Light. Have you found peace with it?”

Truthfully, Leere saw nothing she could do to fight this outcome, to change it. She wouldn’t force her family to stay young with her, even if it was in her ability to do so. Sunny cherished the life she had been given, and she wouldn’t want to alter it in any way. Despite this, Leere knew no amount of preparation would make her feel ready to say goodbye. “I wish I could have more time with her.”

Joy nodded, kissing her mother’s knuckles. “If she wakes up, spend whatever time you have left with her.”

Leere looked her beautiful purple eyed daughter in the face. “Joy. You can be here.” 

“I won’t be far. And you need this closure. Please mom.”

Leere nodded. Two more hours passed, the Necromancer sitting next to her wife. Every second that clicked by on the clock in the hallway felt like an eternity. Stirring in her bed, Sunny slowly opened her eyes. With a light creak of her voice, she smiled towards Leere. “Hello beautiful.”

Leere turned to her, returning the smile. “Hello sunshine. You have some energy in you for an adventure?”

There was still passion in Sunny’s voice, but the energy was long gone with her youth. “You want to tell me a story?”

“I was thinking I could carry you to the oak tree actually. Are you up for it?”

Sunny’s lips curled into the biggest smile she could muster. “For you. I could do anything.”

Carefully, with the help of Joy, Leere got Sunny dressed into her wonderful yellow sunflower dress, placing her sunflower hat upon her head. With a little piggy back, Leere gently carried Sunny onto her back. “Let’s go.”

Opening the door to the rest of the ranch, Leere didn’t have too far to travel. Just behind her, Joy trailed along. 

The sweet summer air blew through, with an orange sky that would set for another two hours above them. Leaning into her, Sunny murmured. “Leere?”

“Sunny?”

“You stay happy and full of happiness. You and Joy both.

“… I will.”

Leere didn’t need magic to know the moment was fast approaching. Sunny’s breathing grew lighter and lighter with every minute. Gently, Leere maneuvered her, cradling her in her arms. “We’re here.”

Sunny’s eyes gently rested on looking at the gorgeous shades of pink, orange, and purple that filled the sky. “That’s… good.”

“It’s a beautiful sunset, isn’t it Sunny?”

Gently, Sunny closed her eyes, a small murmur her only response. “Mmm.”

Looking out over Hyrule, Leere just watched the glorious colours over the mountain tops. Beside her, Joy settled down, holding Sunny’s hand. 

Leere felt a change. And tears silently streamed down her face without her knowing she started to cry. “It’s as colourful as you Sunny… Sunny?”

Looking down, the beautiful smile on Sunny’s face remained, but her life was over. Taking  Sunny’s hat off, Leere gently caressed the face of her wife. Her voice broken, Leere mustered all the love she could through the sorrow she felt. “Sunny? … I love you.”

Joy looked to her mother, her own tears staining her face. Gently, she did the only thing she could do. She hugged her mom, still holding her mama’s hand. For the Ingo’s, the sun had finally set. ________________________________________________________________ Leere and Modoc’s link keeps them bound, age not affecting the Necromancer. Despite peace being achieved for the world, can Leere face the price of this peace with the cost of time bearing down on her?  A collaboration with @ridersoftheapocalypse. I wrote the last section of this chapter on my own accord. Giving Sunny her send off was one of the hardest, emotionally difficult goodbyes I’ve had to make with a character. I hope you’ve come to enjoy her character as much as I have, and the light and love she represented for Leere. I am going to miss her terribly. 

Art by @s-kinnaly​. Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/712433336649400320/the-long-years-ahead-ch-2-moving-on

[etheirysnoir]

just the basics — yiuno.

[ lore / writing / answers / gpose / aesthetics ] — Updated 2024.09.14

An adventurer by day, and an assassin by night—Yiuno Reine is an enigmatic Viera who walks along the blurred line of light and darkness. From the politically righteous Grand Companies to the unknown depths of the Eorzean underworld, Yiuno will work for anyone for the right price, especially if the job aligns with his personal agendas. However, the dangerous secrets that have slept within him for so long will become the key to the fate of the world… once more.

— basics.

NAME. Yiuno Reine. ALIASES. Yiune Rei (alter ego), Sigrid Rindr (birth name). AGE. Unknown; appears to be in his early twenties. NAMEDAY. 15th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon. RACE. Veena Viera. ORIENTATION. Demiromantic Asexual.

— appearance.

HAIR. Born silver-white, which he normally keeps short. Changes hair colors and styles often due to personal circumstances and line of work. As Yiune, he wears bobcut wigs. Dislikes long hair. EYES. Originally born with blue eyes, Yiuno now has heterochromia—blue right, green left—ever since the coup d’etat in Ul’dah. Has larger irises compared to common male Viera, with long eyelashes. Red markings accentuate the corner of his eyes, with a beauty spot under the left. PHYSIQUE. Considerably tall for a male Viera with a gracefully lithe frame. Sometimes mistaken as female even when he’s not in Yiune guise. Very fair complexion. No visible wrinkles, scars or tattoos. CLOTHING. Usually seen in an assortment of suits or military uniforms, consisting a combination of trench coats, shirts and ties, and dress shoes. For casual wear, Yiuno favors hoodies, high-neck sweaters, and survival boots. As Yiune, he may go for more daring designs, such as high-silt dresses or low-cut tops, and over-the-knee heel boots. ACCESSORY. Due to his circumstances and line of work, Yiuno often avoids having telltale items that may easily blow his covers. However, he does wear a leather-bound necklace with a wind-aspected crystal—a gift from his twin sister, Yiuna, with quite a story behind its origin.

— résumé.

PROFESSIONS.

ALCHEMIST. Cover story when he travels from city to city. Usually conducts trade with curative potions and antidotes. GLEANER. Mostly known amongst guilds of arcane arts. Mainly hired to hunt and retrieve dangerous magical artifacts of eons past. Also works as normal treasure hunter (at times, a dungeon raider), possessing a collection of rare items of his own. ASSASSIN. Only known in the Eorzean underworld. Goes by the cover identity “Yiune Rei,” a Hingan courtesan deeply shrouded in mystery, prized for her beauty and talent in Astromancy. Uses honey traps to kill her targets in cold blood.

SKILLS & ABILITIES.

JACK OF ALL TRADES. The perks of being immortal grants Yiuno unlimited time to acquire an arsenal of skills and abilities, which would usually be difficult or even impossible for beings with a normal lifespan. However, regardless of the numerous know-how he has under his belt, he never considers himself a master of any. He has no interest in becoming an expert in a specific field or area, anyway. MAGICAL APTITUDE. Both Yiuno and his twin sister, Yiuna, are naturally gifted in aether manipulation—so much so that even the likes of his former mentor, Shatotto, and later on his partner, Y’shtola, are able to discern in one glance. RECONNAISSANCE. “Knowledge is power,” is a quote often used by scholars, usually associated with books. However, to Yiuno, the same can be applied to field work, especially the kind of jobs he’d take on. Terrain of the site he’d be scavenging as a gleaner. Profile of the target he’d be killing as an assassin. Always preparing himself for the worst.

TRAITS.

MOST POSITIVE. Resourcefulness. Yiuno has lived for a long, long time, which gives him a wealth of knowledge and experience well beyond any beings with an ordinary lifespan. It has helped him to live in the shadows for millennia, enabling him to constantly adapt to the ever-changing world he’s forced to live in—for eternity. MOST NEGATIVE. Cynicism. Yiuno harbors a strong mistrust towards people in general—after all, he has lived through many calamities and countless wars in his immortal life, which have shaped him into a bitter, pessimistic man. He’s driven by personal interests, and he believes that others are no different from him, since he sees it as a basic survival instinct that every living being is born with.

— personal.

HOBBIES. Reading and research, people-watching, training (usually by himself, sometimes with Y’shtola or Sora), traveling. COLORS. Monochrome—the different types of gray, including black and white. Doesn’t mind neutral colors like brown. To a lesser extent, the darker shades of red and blue. AROMAS. Freshly brewed coffee or tea. Amongst musty old tomes in libraries and bookshops. TEXTURES. Soft, fluffy hair of the people he really likes (ex. Y’shtola, Sora). Cold, hard surface of bladed weapons. Rough, wrinkled pages of ancient books. BEVERAGES. Drinks that contain high amount of caffeine with low to no sugar content at all. Long black and herbal tea are his go-to.

FAMILY.

Born into an ancient clan built upon strict matriarchy and meritocracy, Yiuno’s understanding of a family greatly differs from common Eorzeans. Shortly after their birth, kits (young Viera children) were placed under custody care in a specialized facility within the civilization; raised collectively by adult Viera designated to be their caretakers, none of the members knew who their birth parents were. They didn’t care, either—the concept of blood relation never once crossed their mind, for they were taught since young that everyone in the clan is family. The only exception to this is Yiuna, his twin sister. Their birth was met with scrutiny, for no twins were born in the clan for centuries until they came. They share a special bond that they can’t explain, but they know and they can feel it between them. They were banished from the clan due to Yiuna’s deceit—she disguised her brother’s true gender and made him to pretend to be a female so that the wood wardens wouldn’t take him away from her when they hit puberty. After the Seventh Umbral Calamity, Yiuno woke up in the middle of the Black Shroud with an amnesiac Xaela, Sora Amariyo; Yiuna was nowhere to be found. He became a mentor and guardian both to the young Warrior of Darkness, and they began their journey through the realm. As of DT, Yiuno is still searching for Yiuna, trying to reunite with his missing twin sister.

PETS.

Yiuno owns a collection of minions—automated mechanical dolls that he uses as either unsuspecting scouts or diversion puppets in his line of work. He can also summon familiars, in the form of black-feathered owls, to do his bidding.

— law & order.

SMOKES? Never. He despises the smell. ALCOHOL? Drinks socially to maintain some cover stories; this is especially so when he assumes the identity of the mysterious courtesan, Yiune. While he’s unable to get drunk due to his unique body condition, he does enjoy a wine or two on special occasions. DRUGS? Similar to alcohol, drugs have no effects on him due to his special circumstances. However, he has no qualms to use them on others. MOUNT? Yiuno rescued a chocobo sometime during the ARR timeline—the chocobo was apparently abandoned by its original owner because it was an albino. To avoid any issues with the law enforcement, Yiuno registered this chocobo as his mount with the Grand Companies, naming it “Sören”. CRIMINAL RECORDS? Too many to count, given his immorality; some were major historical incidents, such as the War of the Magi. Though Shatotto erased his name from history and bore the weight of his crimes onto herself, Yiuno would never forget the sins he’d committed, even till this day.

[effervescentwhispers]

Today I wore my mother's skirt. You see, my laundry had eaten the lion's share of my more favored pieces, so I didn't have many other choices, and it was comfortable enough. I haphazardly pulled it out of the dusty drawer I had tossed it in the week before, and threw it over the shirt I'd worn to bed, already wrinkled from sleeping in it the night before-- though I was careful not to stretch the elastic of the skirt too much-- it was getting a bit old. As I paused before the mirror, I realized it must've been my most worn article of clothing, yet I always thought it a little gauche. I found the embroidered flowers at the hem too finicky, difficult to pair-- I only wore it on days where I gave up on putting together a more cohesive outfit.

I forgot about it, mostly, until just now, when I was taking it off to get ready to go to bed, I found a thread loose at the pocket. Stains on the hem, and an inevitable fading of the dye from years of wear and machine washing. I did not handle it as carefully as my mother did, and the evidence of my neglect showed. I didn't recall it was so faded. In my mind, the fabric is still a deep blue, the white flowers blooming like fresh peonies. I suddenly remember my mother's wrinkles and grey hair, so strange, so out of place on her youthful face-- or was it youthful? The mother I remember has a shock of auburn hair that gleamed red-orange in the sunlight. Her skin is smooth and freckled, her doe-eyes smiling, her lips small and curved. But no, that was... ten years ago-- no, fifteen, maybe more? How old was my mother again? In my head she is never more than forty. But my forty-year old mother now has crows feet around her eyes; an ache in her joints when it's about to rain; patches of white and grey streaks through her dark brown hair (when did the grey hair start coming in?)-- and a strange, alien fatigue, reminiscent of my grandmother's before she passed away.

I cannot restore the faded dye in my denim skirt, but it was new once. I imagine my mother, in her late twenties in Shanghai, picking this out from a bustling Japanese atelier, noticing the soft pleating at the waistline and the then-white embroidered flowers at the hem (I do not know if this skirt is Japanese. It is only Japanese in my imagination). I imagine her paying what was then an exorbitant sum for a single article of clothing, shrugging off the cost with her youthful optimism, now destroyed after her journey to the land of beauty. I see her 20 years ago, still beautiful, tuck the dress into the back of her closet. I see her again, the love in her eyes, hand it over to me in my high school years. I distinctly remember my distate for the blue denim gradient, and the yellowing white flowers. Those same flowers, whose threads have stayed delicately intact for 30 years, are now slowly unraveling under my careless wear, my inability to understand my mother's love.

It is now that I realize that once I destroy this dress there will never be another. Time collapses, and I see myself, sagging lines by my lips (they are my mother's), clutching onto a faded blue dress with the embroidered white flowers yellowed and destroyed; I see myself, attempting to match the once-white thread-- it is too white, and it looks ugly and egregiously fresh against the regal aged cotton. I cannot undo my mistake: it is done, and my mother's dress is a shell of what it once was. A testament to my mother's unconditional love, and my mishandling of it. My mother, my mother, my mother. My mother, her dye fading from her hardy denim cotton. My mother, age spots on her face, coffee stains from my college dining hall. My mother, yellowed threads unraveling under my negligence negligence.

I always wonder if I loved her more, if I cared more, if I wasn't so ungrateful, if I was a perfect daughter-- if I took care of my skirt more, perhaps hand-washed it in a laundry basin, watched for the loose threads and stitched them back in place-- if it would bring my mother back.

Please bring my mother back. I miss her very much.

[biography2medotorg]

8 Essential Foods to Enhance Your Beauty

8 Essential Foods to Enhance Your Beauty Beauty is an important priority in a woman's body. It has been the center of attraction since the face is the first thing that a person notices. Most women thrive and would give anything to have a smooth skin that enhances beauty. This desperate situation makes ladies pay attention to advises on beauty tips and get mislead, especially on the use of certain product like toners, creams etc. Most of these gels are very expensive and may have side effects and not suit with your skin. Some may have probability of worsening your skin condition. There is a cheaper way to make your skin look fresh and radiant, and this is by using the natural food products. They are readily available even in the groceries near your home as they are few of the necessary product.

- Avocado: This is the number one among the top listed foods that enhance beauty. Among all, this fruit is a good source of biotin that proved to be beneficial for the dry skin. Topically applying of avocado can hydrate parched skin. Frequent consumption of it also helps the skin stay bright and smooth. Avocado contains good amount of Vitamin C which is much required to maintain a healthy skin. We intake many sources containing Vitamin C, but as it is water soluble, so can’t be stored in our body. - Eggs: They are also a known source of biotin and a major component that keeps the skin moist. Taking eggs once in a while is also good for a general healthy body. Once in a week, try to apply the egg white after washing your face with lukewarm water. As you apply, cover the face with tissue immediately. This process will enable you to remove dead skins and prevent wrinkles. - Tomatoes: Tomatoes contain high carotenoid that slows down cellular damage from free radical. One can cut a ripe tomato and smear a piece on the face that allows the skin to absorb the fruit juice which smoothens it You can wash your face after 5-10 minutes which will make the skin scaled and sticky. It is a sign of the juice being absorbed. Tomato contains Vitamin A which is great for healthy skin. Also, helpful for acne and brightens dull skin as it contains Vitamin A. - Walnuts: Nuts in general are rich in Omega-3 fatty acids that help keep the skin young looking and smooth. They're also recommended for a shiny and strong hair. Vitamin E in the form of gamma-tocopherol present in Walnut not only strengthens skin, hair but also is effective for cardiovascular health issues. Walnuts contain unique and powerful anti-oxidants which are crucial for one’s health. Also, anti-oxidants is believed to help control how fast you age by combating free radicals. - Green and Lemon tea: Lemon tea is known for weight reduction, and it does this by promoting burning of fats. Excess fats in the skin are burnt off, and this gives the skin a smooth look. No wrinkles or a sagging skin due to layers of fat. The green tea is an impressive storage source of polyphenols. - Pomegranate: It is for external use only whereby you apply it on the skin, and since it has antioxidant nutrients, it stimulates the creation of more collagen. This juicy red fruit known for medicinal and beauty benefits has an abundance of health benefits. It is high in vitamins and anti-oxidants and its anti-oxidants is three times more than red wine and green tea. This incredible antioxidant helps in anti-aging to encourage radiant skin. It also acts a sun care product and sorts out many skin care issues that women of color faces. It is beneficial for dry skin, age spot and acne issues. - Salmon: This one contains astaxanthin, which has carotenoid that enhances skin elasticity and this keeps off wrinkles. Fine lines of the skin are portrayed by the use of salmon. Salmon being rich in nutrients, is recognized as the healthy dietary choice.   - Beans: Beans are a common food rich in proteins that are broken down into amino acids. These amino acids speed up the repair and regeneration of skin cells and collagens. - Water: It does not fall under foods, but it is equally important for a healthy skin. Large quantities of water are helpful, especially due to the respiration process. Apart from enhancing a good smooth skin, it has other benefits in the body like helping with digestion. The above foods are essential for beauty enhancement and are strongly recommended. EHIC , the European Health Insurance Card, can come in very handy in case you need medical attention. This organization is concerned with people's welfare mostly women. A beautiful skin is an attraction to everyone and the ladies are envious of those with smooth skins and should read along these tips.   Read the full article

[thejungleline]

What happens to dead blogs?

Tonight as my son gets out of the tub I throw a towel over him. My mother, standing by the door remarks on how he resembles me more as he gets older. I too had large grown up teeth jutting down from the top of my mouth at his age. There is a photo she recalls of me. If it's the one I'm thinking about, it's in Spain, out in the yard. I'm kneeling down and petting a puppy who is rolled over exposing his fuzzy tummy. That dog was a stray we found.

My son has always looked like me in the way that children take after parents but we have very different coloring. I was dark as a child with jet black hair and a life in the sun, skin a coco brown. My son is almost blond with pinkish white palor. He wears thick glasses and they conceal our resemblance. But when they're off it's evident and it brings me joy. Inexplicable joy that I suppose all parents feel when they look in the face of their offspring to see themselves. We see beauty in that youth, we indulge in its familiarity.

I gather my son up in a bundle of towel and carry him to the bed where he struggles to get away as I slather him with lotion. He giggles at our fight. He's strong and longs to run naked around the apartment. But it's 8 degrees out and I want him to put clothes on, even though we are so fortunate to be warm and safe in this often cruel world.

I'm somewhat successful. His surfaces soft and taught. I remember not giving a dam about my skin for most of my life. The aforementioned youth in the sun was spent at the beach amongst tanning topless tourists, at least 4 years of it. In Spain I'd come home with so much sand in my thick hair. Was the sun less harsh then? I never burned like I do now. The atmosphere is thinner, the ozone gone from our aerosols. Now I look at my neck in the mirror before bedtime and notice the wrinkles and lines. The skin under my chin will sag soon. It was always a zone of insecurity for me.

Curious because the girl I loved in high school also had loose skin there. But I found her beautiful even thought I knew that spot would droop down from her skull with age. I see pictures of her on social media and she looks good though. About as good as she should look for our age. The same as myself.

My hair is white now and there's no hiding. I could dye it but I'm too lazy. What would that do for me anyway? I still feel young. I work out. I'm thin now since the divorce. I couldn't eat for a month. It's amazing how much weight is lost in that type of fast. Now I'm not sure if it will come back. I suspect not. This is the beginning of my old lady body. Much like my mom, whose skin sags in all the places I expect mine will. Yet she is spritely in her early 70s, and she is thin. She looks good in XS clothing. She jokes our family has no butt. She's right. My sister has always been thin. My father now as well. We are smallish people. Not skeletal but lean.

What becomes of this space as I come and go? And when I'm really gone? Will my son dig through my online presence, my hard drives and my media? Does this service purge pages that see no updates for many years. Or will they just let it languish until the platform itself withers away?

I am currently uploading photos to a unique Instagram account that will ultimately be a finite series. The pics are from a party back in 1999 we called Valloween. The party took place in a loft on Java street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. There are many face I don't know in the photos and many I do. I find them beautiful and nostalgic. They are full of kissing, drinking, and some nudity. They are full of youth. I've sequestered them to a unique account so they don't mingle with my personal Instagram. And I wonder why I chose this.

So much of my online activity I have done under pseudonym, much like this blog. There is no obvious way to trace this to my real name. Is that wise?

In my obsession over my therapist (which has only grown since my last blog entry) I have searched her name over and over again. Her name returns myriad results but not like mine. I do not exist online other than in association with Christy&Emily the band. Then I'm there. But now that it's over, that project and that love, perhaps I should set the record straight. What have I been hiding. Of what am I scared?

So here it is. My name is Christine Edwards. I work for Bloomberg QuickTake as a video producer. I've played in many bands over the years including: The Lil' Fighters, The Pill, The Totallys, The Sumerians, Christy&Emily, on occasion with the Nightingales, and in my most recent project called Momsomnia.

I am a somewhat prolific songwriter and still play my early songs today. I will attempt to name every song I've written now.

Lil' Fighters: Bright Tomorrow, Freedom School, Little Mai, Tricky, Better Place, NYC, Teenage Heartbreak, Oheyoheyo

The Pill / Totallys : Jaywalker, Dream, Aurora Borealis, Yes Not No, TV Song, Life is a Drag, Star Song, White Liar, Back in Fashion, Frankenstein, Rock-n-Roll and Bicycles, Ad Naseau, Biology, Crush, Bang Bang Bang, Digital Millennium, Bawdy Party, Biology

C&E: Ghost, Noah, Birds, Chicken Little, Superstition, 105 & Rising, Beast, Firefly, Sundowners, Guava Tree, Idle Hands, Tesseract, Railroad, Airport, Haruki, Rolling Ocean, Something Easy, Florida

Momsomnia: Youth in Asia, Turner, Carousel, Covid Holiday, Transference, Digging For Love, Whole Lot of Nothing, Space Miner

These are songs I've played with ensembles, but I've written others. It is my goal to get the song I've written for my son recorded in some form that I'm happy with. It's a simple song that evokes a Bossa Nova. It is called Affirmation.

Right now my son sleeps and I try to focus on where my creative energies should go. This post is the result. It is futile though. The only difference between this and scribble in a notebook is that this will be public. It occurs to me that most every diary is not public. Once upon a time stores sold diaries with locks on them, so little girls could bear their souls in those pages without fear of being found out or understood. But now people live out their every thought in public forums online. Is there any desire for privacy or anonymity? I who have just decided to break mine has come to the conclusion that there is not.

This is a lyric in my song Youth in Asia. I write: They're not like we are, lulled into complacency. Taking comfort in the vast digital anonymity. They're not like we are. Where will it lead? Chaos and anarchy, gas on the streets under the cloud of Beijing. I wrote this song for the Hong Kong protestors back in 2018. I can't believe it's so old now. But this subject is still relevant. It is a movement of our time, of the current youth to rally and feel pathos for. At least I hope.

[pillage-and-lute]

Prompt: Either out of embarrassment or being a little shit, Jaskier lies outrageously to Geralt about humans (on the level of “I’m molting” or “These? They’re rocks, to snack on.”) and might get away with it?

Hi Dahliavandare! I always love seeing you in my inbox. I changed this just a *teeny* bit. WARNING: VERY SLIGHTLY HORNY (it’s Jaskier, duh) There is also a little bit of angst because Jaskier gets sick.

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“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“What?” The young bard yelped. “I wasn’t even singing that time.”

“No, you just--hmmm.”

“I just hmmm what?” Jaskier asked, pausing in his near-constant strumming.

“You smell like...hmm.”

“I smell?” Jaskier said, both hands planted on his hips. “That’s pretty rich coming from you, my friend--”

“Not friends.”

“You smell like a barn. Anyway-”

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt said, running one, gloved hand through his hair. “Witchers can sort of smell emotions, right?”

Jaskier looked up at him, a sudden hint of anxiety in his scent. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Not entirely.” Geralt shook his head as if clearing a thought from it. “We can’t smell complex things, but joy, fear, anger...desire.”

Jaskier, for once, didn’t look at Geralt, studying instead the flowers at the side of the road. “Desire?”

“I-yes.” Geralt said. “And I wanted to know if all humans smell like...”

“Desire?” Jaskier said, then began talking fast. “Oh yes, of course, most humans, especially my age, well, they smell like this all the time. All the time. Naturally.”

It sort of checked out, at least to Geralt’s thinking. Young humans were horny, and although the overriding scent when Geralt was around was fear, he remembered being a teenager, with all the baggage that entailed at Kaer Morhen, and yes, constantly horny was among those memories. Jaskier himself was definitely still young by human standards, perhaps twenty or so from his youthful features. 

Geralt chalked the horniness up to humanity and hormones and left it at that. 

--- 

Later on, Geralt had other questions related to humanity, more specifically that part of humanity that included Jaskier. 

“I thought humans couldn’t eat those?” Geralt couldn’t, he’d eaten one during training on a dare and spent the next day with his head in the privy.

Jaskier looked down at the mushroom in his hand. It was a beautiful, bright red, with little white spots. He’d been snacking on similar ones for the last mile or so. 

“Of course we can,” he said. “Humans eat these all the time.” There was a rising tone in his voice that indicated something, but as Geralt had mentioned before, witchers couldn’t actually smell the more complicated emotions. 

“They, um,” Jaskier said. “They just can’t be eaten by humans during-er- during summer. It’s fall now, so it’s okay.”

Geralt shrugged. What did he know of human biology? He wouldn’t be eating another of them ever, at any time. His stomach lurched a little just at the thought.

---

“You didn’t buy the ring.”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, eyes bright in the sunshine. The bustle of the market around them pushed against him like a tide, but a little patch of space was left around Geralt. Jaskier stepped into the space. “The ring?”

“You liked it,” Geralt grunted. “I could tell.” It had been a little thing, cheaply made of poor materials, but the bard’s eyes had lit up upon seeing the little buttercup detailing, and he’d admired for several minutes, although without touching. 

Jaskier shrugged. “It was made of iron.”

“And?”

“Human’s can’t wear iron, Geralt.”

“Then why did the man sell it?” 

“Well some humans can wear it of course, those with very tough skin, but I’m delicate.” Jaskier sniffed. 

“Humans...can’t wear iron?” It didn’t sound right.

“Not right up close to their skin,” Jaskier said. “It turns us, um, purple.”

Geralt shrugged it off. He’d once been called to a castle where a baron had believed himself cursed because his finger was turning green, but he’d simply been wearing a cheap brass ring.

---

After the first winter they met again in the spring something was definitely different.

“Your freckles,” Geralt said.

“What about them?” Jaskier said, looking away.

What about them indeed. They glimmered like chips of mica. At first Geralt had thought it a trick of the light, but no, there was a definite glitter to Jaskier’s skin.

“They’re...shining?”

Jaskier cocked his head at Geralt, cheeks shimmering. “Geralt,” he said slowly. “You know humans shimmer in the spring...right?” 

Shimmer?

“I’d never noticed,” Geralt said. Admittedly he paid a little more attention to Jaskier than perhaps he ought, but still, one would think he’d have seen this before.

“It’s part of the growing process,” Jaskier said. 

---

“Jaskier, your cheeks are red,” Geralt said, stepping out of the small bathtub the inkeeper had brought up. He stepped closer to the bard, still naked and dripping water, and pressed the back of his hand to Jaskier’s forehead.

“Nnhgh,” Jaskier said.

“Are you well?” Geralt asked, cupping Jaskier’s flushed face with his other hand. It didn’t feel like he had a fever.

Jaskier pushed his hands away, face even redder than before.

“I’m perfectly fine, Geralt,” he said, higher pitched than usual. “Human faces get red for no reason now...put on some pants.”

---

“Jaskier you’re drunk,” Geralt said. It was a pretty obvious statement, considering he had his bard draped over him like a shawl.

“Hehe, yep,” Jaskier said, reaching up with one, long finger and tracing Geralt’s jawline with it. 

“You didn’t have any alcohol, I’m sure of it.” Jaskier normally had an extremely high alcohol tolerance in any case.

“‘O course not,” Jaskier said, leaning even more fully into Geralt’s hold. “Had milk.”

“Milk can’t get people drunk.”

“Milk can’t get witchers drunk,” Jaskier slurred. “Get’s humans drunk though, dunnit?”

“Can it?”

“Yeah, definitely, not the kids, but like, how often do you see, like adult humans drinkin’ milk?”

Not often, Geralt thought. He put Jaskier to bed in the inn and it was like pouring an octopus into a bucket. One loose yet gripping arm pulled Geralt closer to Jaskier, the bard leaned in and brushed soft lips to Geralt’s cheekbone.

Geralt wondered if it was another mystery of humans that the spot seemed to tingle all night and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

---

Geralt clutched Jaskier as the bard fell to his knees, groaning. His face was sickly in it’s palor and he was trembling. He’d just lurched up from the table at the inn and stumbled to the door. Geralt had followed him and the young bard had just collapsed like this.

“Jaskier,” he said, clutching a chilled cheek, his other hand seeking one of Jaskier’s. “Jaskier what’s wrong.”

“Lemon,” Jaskier whispered, lacing shaking finger’s with Geralt’s. “In the fish, there was lemon.”

“Lemon’s fine, isn’t it?” Geralt asked, slow heart racing as he looked into eyes that were becoming glassy and clouded.

Jaskier shook his head and it seemed to exhaust him.

“’S fine for humans.” He said. “Not fae.”

“Fae,” Geralt said, cradling his friend. “Jaskier you’re not making sense.” 

“Mmh,” Jaskier said, smiling sadly. His face changed, his eyes going glow bright and his ears lengthening a little. His skin took on a slightly green tint. 

Geralt looked into the face of his fae bard, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone and the shimmering freckles there. “How do I heal you, you have to tell me.”

Jaskier blinked slowly, eyes dimming further.

Geralt shook him, desperation taking over.

“Jaskier what heals a fairy?”

What heals a fairy? He’d learned that at some point hadn’t he? Long ago. They were rare, and most witchers never saw one in their whole lives but if you could help one they’d grant you one wish, not tricks. 

Poetry. 

Fuck.

“Jaskier,” Geralt rasped, throat feeling dry. Those beautiful eyes blinked at him, slowly. 

“I...I think you have pretty eyes,” Geralt said. “And I like when they, um, match the skies.”

Jaskier blinked at him in confusion, brow wrinkling slightly.

“You look pretty in blue,” Geralt managed, inventing wildly. “And look pretty in green. You look lovely in about every shade in between.”

Some of the deathly palor was fading from Jaskier’s face now and Geralt sought more words. “I thought you were pretty that day you wore purple,” he said. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, idiot he was an idiot, nothing rhymes with purple. 

“I like your spirit, your moxy, your...your yurple.”

Jaskier was indeed looking better now, and he was smiling.

“I like the way you talk to me, and how you’re always there,” Geralt whispered. “I like the way you hum to me when you help me brush my hair.”

Jaskier sat up slowly, blinking in the dim light.

“I like the way you give treats to Roach, um, and I like the way you smile,” Geralt gulped at the look on Jaskier’s face. “But most of all I like how much I love you, so I want you to promise to, uh, stay? For a while?”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier said, cupping his cheek. “That was bad.” Then he kissed him and Geralt’s brain went very very fuzzy.

A little later, in their room in the inn, where Geralt was finishing the fish and Jaskier was having stew avec no-lemon-at-all, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jaskier tilted his head thoughtfully as he chewed a piece of potato. “Well, at first I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he said. 

Geralt nodded. Fae were a feared and reverred group amongst humans, so caution was reasonable.

“Then it became a sort of game,” Jaskier said shrugging. “I couldn’t resist. So I left you little hints. I thought you’d figure it out for sure with the freckles or the milk.”

Geralt huffed a little sheepishly.

“I don’t care that you’re fae,” he said after a moment.

“I know,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t care that you’re an awful poet.”

“It worked, didn’t it.”

“It did, and now you get a wish, no tricks,” Jaskier held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I promise.”

Geralt thought for a moment. A wish from a fae was no small thing. It should be something powerful, something earth shattering and precious and rare.

“I wish you would kiss me again.”

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

Oop, here it is (after quite the wait, sorry about that) I’m actually so proud of this and it’s super sweet and fluffy.

[redrobin-detective]

The late Daniel Fenton

It was shaping up to be a beautiful if chilly December day and Casper High, as always, was bustling. It was 7:49 and class was about to start. The teacher watched the last few kids stumbling in at various levels of wakefulness. He already knew who would be the ones to rush in after the bell but that was alright. Life was too short to stress about being a few minutes late to class, especially in Amity Park of all places.

He looked up to see Madison, one of his shyer students walk in before making a beeline for his desk. She was biting her lip and nervously rubbing her hand down her skirt. “Hey,” she began quietly.

“Good morning. What’s up, Mads?” He asked casually. She looked upset, he could probably put on a video for the class if she needed to talk. They really needed a permanent counselor but the constant ghost attacks ran off most of them so he’d taken up the unofficial mantle. It felt good to help his students like that, make up for past wrongs.

“Are we um, expecting any new students?” She asked, her eyes darting over to the door she’d just come through. “Any transfers, exchange students or anything like that?”

“No,” the teacher frowned. “Amity isn’t the kind of place people transfer into. Why?”

“There’s a kid in the hallway,” she mumbled. “I don’t recognize him, he’s got a backpack and everything but he’s... I don’t know he doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh you’re talking about that weird dark haired kid,” Kyle said as he entered and sat down with a slouch. But even the class slacker looked unusually tense. “Dude’s creepy, can’t put my finger on why but he definitely doesn’t belong.”

“Oh,” was all the teacher had to say. Suddenly he realized how cold the classroom had become, the uncomfortable feeling that was pressing ever so slightly down on them. “I suppose it makes sense, the ghosts have been quiet lately with the Truce and all. He probably got bored.”

“Sir?” Madison said.

“Shannon,” he said instead, looking over at the frizzy haired girl hunched over her sketchbook furiously at work. “Would you do me a favor and move to the vacant seat in the second row? Just for today.”

“What? Why?” the girl whined even as she gathered up her various arts supplies and got ready to move.

“That’s Mr. Fenton’s seat,” he said taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes in preparation for what he was about to see. Danny would come here, of course he would. This was Lancer’s old classroom and Danny had him for first period English Lit. He and Dash both did.

“Mr. Baxter? What’s going on, is it a ghost?” Malik asked from the back row while Shannon shuffled to her new temporary seat.

“Yes but you don’t need to be scared,” he said softly, evenly. “He won’t hurt you.” The bell rang but Dash didn’t start the lesson. Instead, he waited. Danny had never been on time to class the entire time Dash had known him, of course death wouldn’t change that.

“Sorry, I’m late Mr. Lancer,” Dash gripped his desk so he didn’t jump when Danny Fenton simply appeared in front of his desk instead of walking through the door like any other student. “My folks couldn’t drive me, they’re still working on their stupid ghost portal.” A quick glance over at this class showed varying levels of fear, shock and curiosity but they were Amity kids through and through. The cold, powerful energy radiating off Fenton told them it was best to play along with whatever the ghost wanted.

“Perfectly alright Mr. Fenton,” Dash said softly, searching the 14 year old’s perpetually young face. He hadn’t changed a bit since Dash last saw him their second week of freshman year. It seemed unreal seeing how the years had taken their toll on Casper’s favorite son, Dash Baxter. God had they really been that young once? “Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

Danny shrugged and walked over to the seat Shannon had just vacated. He sat just the same, one leg stretched out and the other propped up against the leg of the desk. As soon as he took off the backpack and put it around the chair, it disappeared. He didn’t say anything else, just sat as stared at Dash with piercing blue eyes like he could see right through him.

“We had been talking about the lead up to the Civil War but let’s table that for today,” Dash said, proud his voice only wavered a little. He knew other people had seen Fenton around town. Lina saw him standing outside the Nasty Burger maybe five or so years ago. Dale, who used to live near Fenton Works swore he sometimes saw someone moving through the windows of the long abandoned house. He’d always secretly dreaded the thought of seeing Danny Fenton again, afraid he’d finally get was coming to him.

“Instead, we’re going to talk about local history,” he continued, not daring to take his eyes off the undead teen. Every other living student was tense, afraid. He wished he could assure them that the ghost wouldn’t lay a hand on them. In the event Fenton decided to ditch the hero schtick, it would be Dash and Dash alone he’d come after. “Amity Park has long had rumors of being haunted dating all the way back to the 1600s. It wasn’t until the last century that scientists determined that Amity Park is located on top of a thin spot between our world and the ghost realm. Natural portals form here all the time allowing spirits to pass through.”

No one spoke and barely anyone breathed except for Danny would wasn’t breathing at all. He just sat and stared at Dash with steady, unblinking eyes.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton were the scientists who discovered the weak point in reality in Amity. They devoted their entire life to the study of ghosts and made remarkable advancements in our knowledge of ectobiology and culture, the first being,” he paused as Danny cocked his head in confusion, squinting his eyes suspiciously at Dash. “The first being their manmade portal to the ghost zone. The portal remained active for almost two decades for research purposes but was shut down following their deaths.”

“You’re not Mr. Lancer,” Danny said suddenly, his eyes shifting from baby blue to an ectoplasmic green. Marty, who was sitting to the left of Danny, swallowed a squeak of fear and squeezed his eyes shut.

“No,” Dash sighed, “Lancer died almost thirty years ago now. Best teacher I ever had, he gave me his blessing when he passed on the job to me.”

“I,” the ghost ran his hand through his hair which was starting to lose its color. Seeing Fenton looking so scared and confused made him ache. It reminded him of old times. Dash had spent most of his life making sure he helped hurt kids if only to make up for the one he’d never been able to make it up to. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay, Danny,” he soothed. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“The portal, it wasn’t working at first,” Danny justified, his aura glowing a little more. “Sam and Tuck, they were curious. They wanted to look but I told them it wasn’t allowed, Sam, Sam she dared me to go in. I put on the hazmat suit and went inside and found the on button inside. I accidentally hit it and-” he paused midsentence and looked down at his hands. They weren’t pale flesh anymore but covered in white gloves. The black was completely bleached from his hair. A few of the students gasped as they saw the strange would be student melt into Phantom, the ghostly hero who’d been protecting their town since their parents were young. “I died.”

So much time had gone by. People were born and people were buried and the truth became distorted until it was just a legend passed jokingly around cafeteria lunch tables. Amity’s youth had forgotten their town’s history until it was sitting in a desk, trying once more to be one of them.

“You did,” Dash said sadly. He remembered hearing the news of Fenton's death. An assembly had been called the morning after the accident. Lancer had cried at the podium, Manson and Foley hadn’t returned to school for a week and had never been the same again. Dash hadn’t known what to think at the time, only that the kid he’d beat up for the crime of being different would never show up to school again. Or so he’d thought. “It was a tragedy, you were mourned by a lot of people.”

“I know you, don’t I?” Danny said quietly before he sat up straighter. “Dash?”

“In the flesh,” Dash grinned shakily.

“But you’re so old,” Danny said, once more distressed. “Your hair is grey and there’s wrinkles on your face and-and you’re a teacher now?” The last line was said with incredulity, his eyes flaring again. “You used to push me down the stone steps of the school and shove me into my locker and call me names.”

“Yeah, I did,” he sighed, feeling every one of his years. He was pushing 70 but he didn’t think he’d ever stop feeling like a stupid 14 year old who took out his frustrations on the ones who didn’t deserve it. “But you were the last; I never touched another kid again. I’m married now, four kids. I’m vice principal now, teach History and coach the school’s football team. It’s,” his voice caught again, still unable to process how young and stupid Fenton looked sitting there like no time had passed at all. It made Dash feel like all his accomplishments and attempts to be better would never amount to anything so long as his last victim roamed the earth unable to find peace. “It doesn’t fix what I did back then but I make damn sure that there won’t be any bullying at Casper so long as I’m here.”

“Huh,” Danny said, slouching once more in his seat but it looked less like his earlier teenage laziness and more weary. He and Dash were the same age after all, just because only one of them got old doesn’t mean time didn’t still affect them. “You did change, a lot of things did.” Danny looked down at the desk, “how long has it been?”

“Almost 50 years,” Dash sighed. “My wife wants me to retire but I guess I always find more things to do.” He paused then decided it was now or never. “I’m sorry Danny, for hurting you back then. I wish I'd gotten to know you better.”

For just a moment, Danny was perfectly clear. Even half floating out of his chair and looking like the local celebrity, his eyes were so painfully human. A boy killed before he ever got a chance to get started. Who’s will to protect was so strong it lasted half a century. It haunted him late at night to think of the glory and power of Phantom overshadowing just how incredible Danny Fenton had been. Not that anyone had seen it at the time. Soon there wouldn’t be anyone left to remember that quiet, kind teenager and then Danny Fenton really would be dead. Kill him just as thoroughly as that portal had.

The moment was broken by a breath of cold leaking out of the ghost’s lips and, just like that, his highschool classmate was gone and Phantom was left in his stead. He looked curiously around the classroom as if he didn’t know how he’d gotten there.

“There’s a ghost, stay here and don’t leave unless the fighting gets too close. I’ll get it though, don’t worry. No kids are dying today.” Maybe it was Dash’s imagination but he thought he saw Phantom’s eyes linger on him for an extra moment, trying to place where he knew the teacher from. Dash just smiled.

“Our lives are in your hands. Good luck, Phantom,” the ghost teen saluted before fading away entirely. Dash let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, suddenly exhausted but also lighter at the same time. It wasn’t every day you got to look your mistakes in the face and apologize. “Shannon, you can move back now.”

“No, I’m okay here,” Shannon said as she flipped to a new page in her sketchbook and looked intently at the spot where Fenton had once sat. “It’s like you said, that’s Danny’s seat.”

“I had no idea, Phantom’s been around for like, ever,” Freddie mumbled, pushing up his glasses. “But he used to be just like us.” And still was, Dash thought sadly. Danny would never grow old, never go to space like he’d always dreamed or marry Manson like he’d probably intended to. He was stuck, in more ways than one for who knows how long.

“Yes, that’s why it’s important to know your history. The Civil War and my other lessons are important but we can’t forget these smaller, more intimate histories. If we lose these lessons to time then we risk repeating the same mistakes over again.” He looked his students in the eyes, holding their attention.

“So we’ll continue today with the local history. Before he was ghost butt kicking superhero, Phantom was Danny Fenton, son of the local ghost hunters and a bit of an outcast in town. The Daniel Fenton Foundation was founded about a year after his death and was-”

[bvckys-doll]

Masquerade

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Y/N and her family are invited to a masquerade ball since Netherfield hall has a new owner: Lord James Buchanan Barnes. What (Y/N) does not know is that this will be her last night among the living. 

Warnings: soft!dark themes here! A bit of manipulation. Blood! Pride and Prejudices vibes at the beginning of the fic.

Author’s note: I’m happy that I can finally post this one because I’m a whore for masquerade balls and vampires! Especially Vampire!Bucky! This goes out to @emily-roberts (who can’t be tagged unfortunately) since they inspired me to work on Masquerade here! Maybe this will get a sequel, i’m not sure yet.

You can find my masterlist here!

The year is 1867. Queen Victoria is still in power, and the country is at peace. At least, to the people who are lucky enough to live in the countryside in England. Especially the women who were the ones that learned the least of the ongoing problems around the world. At this time in history, they were mostly excluded from these kinds of conversations. Something (Y/N) was deeply offended by.

Most of the women around her had only one thing on their mind: the latest gossip and men.

Nothing would fit better into the gossip than a mysterious lord who had recently moved into the large estate near Netherfield Park. The whole city was in turmoil, and everyone wanted to get one of the coveted invitations to the grand inauguration party.

(Y/N) could still remember the day a few weeks ago when her mother was running around the house in a rage and talking to herself over and over again. Her father had tried to ignore his wife as much as possible.

“I have heard from Mrs. Brenstock that the new Lord of Netherfield Park is about to give a ball. A ball, Mr. Edwards! Can you imagine that? He doesn’t seem to have sent out any invitations yet, otherwise, we would have gotten one by now, wouldn’t we? Tell me I’m right” she had let herself sink into her chair. With the thick needle in her hand, she repeatedly stabbed her new embroidery cloth.

(Y/N) had been sitting across from her mother at the time and hardly noticed her rambling about the ball, as the young lady was too absorbed in her thoughts about her newest book, which was on the table in front of her.

For her mother, this was finally the chance to marry her off to a rich man. Perhaps even to the owner of the estate himself, since many speculated him to be single. Most women of (Y/N)’s age were already married, some even had children.

It wasn’t that (Y/N) wasn’t very talkative. If she was given a suitable subject, she could chat for hours, but her mother had always preached to her that no man wanted a woman with a loud attitude. Despite all this, (Y/N) didn’t kept her mouth shut and spoke freely about what she thought. Mostly.

It had been a month since that conversation between her parents and (Y/N) was now sitting with them in a carriage on their way to the estate of the new lord of Netherfield Park.

The letter had arrived about two days after the long discussion between her mother and her quiet father. (Y/N) seemed to be more relieved than her mother because she couldn’t bear her constant chatting and complaining about the ball.

In her lap was a white mask that her mother had brought home a few days ago. A masquerade. That was the order of the new landlord. An unusual way to celebrate a party, where you wanted to get to know the locals better, but (Y/N) didn’t put much thought into it.

With a calm look, she peered out of the window of the carriage and could see how the estate grew in the distance. The lights were shining through the high windows towards them as they rode the carriage to the large courtyard, where some other women were already getting out of their carriages and ascending the great marble staircase with their families.

Her father was the first to go out of the carriage, before he helped his wife out. In the end, he reached out to his daughter. For a brief moment, (Y/N) struggled with the wide skirt of her dress, before standing firmly on the ground.

Once again, she let her gaze wander over the courtyard and looked up at the broad facade of the estate. Suddenly (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a silhouette. Someone who seemed to be looking down at them and was watching what was going on. But before (Y/N) could take a closer look, her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her into the hall.

~

Upstairs in the said room, James watched how the carriages gathered in the courtyard and presented the different guests of almost every status. All came to see some of the wealth of the estate and the treasures that were on display in its halls.

“How many people will visit us tonight? Take a guess” Steve asked him. He was sitting at his best friend’s desk and had put his feet on the tabletop while he leaned back.

James’s gaze was still on the staircase as his gaze followed the woman who had just looked up at him. Yet he replied, “More than two hundred, I would say. Enough to get our bellies full for the next month. You’re going to keep them under control, aren’t you? We need posts at every door.”

“Of course. I’ve never worked sloppy before. You should know that”, Steve winked at him before he stood up and drained the last remaining blood out of his cup. The next moment he pulled some gloves out of his jacket and put them on “But answer me one. Why a masquerade?”

“You don’t want anyone to remember us by mistake, do you?”, a dark smile grazed James features. A similar smile came up on Steve’s face before he pulled the mask over his eyes and left.

~

In the meantime, the large ballroom of the estate had filled with guests and a small orchestra on a raised balcony played quiet music.

With all the hustle, (Y/N) wondered if she would even recognize anyone. The masks just made it harder to spot anyone she knew. Maybe she could get away from her mother. Time and time again she looked for familiar eyes.

Nervously, she again smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt and chewed around her lower lip. With each breath, it seemed to her as if the corsage of her dress was still lacing up.

Before her inner rambling could cause her to make her more uncomfortable, the hitting of a staff made the crowd go quiet. Everyone held their breath and turned to the source of the voice “Please welcome Lord James Buchanan Barnes and Colonel Steven Grant Rogers!”

The guests applauded in honour of the two men who were standing on a raised platform at the end of the hall. One of them stepped forward and raised his wine glass. (Y/N) couldn’t make out his features. Still, he wore a fancy dark suit with a wine-red tie. His slightly longer hair was tied with a ribbon in the back of his head. Although (Y/N) couldn’t see his eyes, they seemed pitch black.

“It is an honour to welcome you all to my new home. Until now, I have been welcomed with kindness in this beautiful little town and I am very happy to get to know you all better soon. I haven’t even lived here for a month, but it already feels like home to me. Let us all enjoy this evening. Sing, laugh and dance!”, his voice echoed through the room. It gave (Y/N) goosebumps.

He raised his glass to which his guests responded with the same gesture before they all took a sip of their drinks. It took less than five seconds, and the conversations were resumed. It was as if that greeting had never happened.

But (Y/N) could not take her eyes of her host. This was the person she had previously seen standing at the window. Before she could look away from him, he had already noticed her and seemed to reply to her stare. She tensed.

She hastily looked at the wine glass in her hand, from which she quickly took a short sip. The music started again. This time a bit louder than before because the guests began to dance. It wouldn’t take long for her mother to approach her once again and tell her daughter to find a suitable dance partner for the night.

~

“Do you see that woman over there? The one in the red dress and the white mask”, Bucky walked next to Steve as they made their way through the guests, who all respectfully stepped aside and bowed. Again and again, the two nodded to some people appreciatively.

Steve followed his friend’s gaze unobtrusively and nodded briefly “Pretty little thing. Do you want to go play or save her all to yourself for the night?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I am sure going to do something with her”, he winked at Steve and stopped at the edge of the dance floor, watching his guests dance. Shortly thereafter, Steve also left him to dance with his wife Margaret, who approached them.

While his friends were busy having fun at the party, James resumed his search for the woman he had just spotted. It did not take long for him to find her her standing next to an elderly couple, who seemed to have an exciting conversation with two other guests. The woman herself didn’t seem very interested in the conversation and kept sipping on her glass. That was his cue.

~

(Y/N) gave out a soft sigh and investigated her wine glass, which would soon be empty. She listened with one ear to the conversation of her parents but did not attempt to participate herself. The unknown woman just boasted how her daughter had married a wealthy man from Oxford some time ago and now lived there. (Y/N) was already getting ready for a sermon from her mother.

Once again, the young woman raised her glass to her red lips as suddenly-

“Excuse me if I bother you but would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” said a deep voice to her, which seemed quite familiar to (Y/N). Her gaze wandered from her glass to the chest of the man standing before her. Her breath was stunted. It was Lord Barnes looking down at her with a gentle smile on his lips. He held out his hand to her, but (Y/N) couldn’t take her eyes off him.

For a moment, it seemed as if (Y/N) had forgotten to have a normal and decent conversation when her mother stepped in and tore the glass out of her hand “She would be honoured to dance with you, Lord Barnes.”

A charming smile spread across his lips as her mother said so. But he turned his gaze to (Y/N) again and asked for her approval “I hope that is indeed the case.”

(Y/N) blinked. Once, twice.

“Yes, I would very much like to dance with you”, she now agreed herself and took his hand, which he still held out to her. He gently drew her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand “What a relieve.”

It was not only her mother who lost her breath at this gesture. Like in a trance, (Y/N) followed her new dance partner onto the wide dance floor, where people automatically made room for them in awe. Soon he stopped with her in the middle of the dance floor and pulled her to his chest, where she instinctively assumed her posture and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Slowly the music started anew. A slow waltz. Controlled, he guided her through the room, and it seemed as if (Y/N) had never done anything else in her life. Every step was exactly as it should be. It was as if they were floating over the dance floor. At least, it seemed like that to her.

“I hope I didn’t take you by surprise”, James remarked, looking down at his dance partner, who focused her eyes on his chest. The reason behind it was the fact that he was a lot taller than her.

Hastily (Y/N) shook her head as her cheeks heated up “Not at all, my lord. I was just surprised, that’s all. There are so many beautiful young women here, I wondered why you chose me.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have just chosen the prettiest in the room”, James replied, presenting her his charming smile, which made his eyes light up for a second. (Y/N)’s knees got soft. It seemed liked she had been enchanted by his aura.

It wasn’t long before the music became quieter and stopped. Together with the other couples, they stopped and applauded the musicians before James gave her his arm and whispered to her “Would you like to accompany me outside? It seems to be getting a little stuffy in here.”

A lie. It’s been years since James truly breathed air.

“I would love to.”, (Y/N) nodded and took shelter with her host before following him out onto the wide terrace. On their way there, (Y/N) did not notice James meeting the eyes of one of his men. It was Sam who stood near the exit and smiled at his friend. He knew James had found someone new to play with. If only it were for tonight.

“A beautiful night, don’t you think?” James looked up to the sky, where thousands of stars were glowing. It was more common here in the countryside. In the cities, the stars could be barely seen by the smoke rising through the chimneys into the sky.

(Y/N) followed his gaze and leaned forward against the wide stone railing. She nodded back, “Yes, it is. You haven’t seen such a sight very often, have you? I mean, I heard you moved out of town. What prompted you to do this?”

“The war and tranquillity I am looking for”, James replied honestly this time and turned his gaze back to (Y/N), who was still looking up at the stars, but noticed how he looked at her with his eyes: “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“You didn’t ask for it either”, (Y/N) replied quick and smiled.

Oh, she’s cheeky. I like that.

He laughed for a moment and neck before he asked, “May I know your name, milady?”

At last, she looked at him again and her eyes shone as she replied with a smile, “My name is (Y/N). And I’m not a lady, my lord.”

The tension she had felt before in his presence was blown away. She felt comfortable in his presence, but she couldn’t explain why. He radiated a certain calmness that made her feel safe and comfortable.

He tilted his head to the side as he smiled, “The name suits you. But tell me, (Y/N), why would a pretty woman like you be alone with your parents at a party like this? There must be a man in your life.”

“Why? Because a woman like me needs a man?” she answered with a counter-question. She wondered how long he would put up with it. But it seemed that the remark would excited him more.

He raised an eyebrow, to which she smiled briefly and replied honestly, “I have a mind of my own, as my mother says. Most men don’t like this feature very well. In our small town, they want a woman who makes a man look good. She has to be pretty and smart, but not too smart for her to make the man look stupid. She needs to be educated, but not waste too much time on it. The piano is very popular with most men.”

“Women who only deal with the latest gossip have never really interested me. Besides, I like to talk to women who can keep up with my intellect. Someone like you”, James replied honestly again, leaning his hip against the stone wall to take a close look at her.

As (Y/N) fixed her posture to look him right in the eye, he stepped foward. He gently raised his hand and put his index finger under her chin to raise it so that she could not take her eyes off of him, “Men can be stubborn, especially English men. But we Americans love it when a woman has something more on her mind than piano notes and pretty clothes. How boring it would be to have someone with you who only agrees with everything you say. I have met lots of these women, but I have seldom encountered someone like you.”

Smiling, (Y/N) held his gaze as he took his hand from her chin and took her hand in his. She looked down for a moment but did not attempt to let go.

“You’re the first man to say something like that to me, and you seem to mean it”, she smiled and briefly squeezed his hand. From the gloves he was wearing, she didn’t even notice how cold they were. Once again, he put her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand, “I am glad to see my presence and my personality please you, Lady (Y/N).”

“As I said, I’m not a lady”, she laughed softly as her cheeks heated up once more. The smile on his lips made her knees soft again, “To me, you are one.”

With every moment that passed, he liked the young woman more and more. Something he didn’t expect. It was selfish, but he knew then and there he wouldn’t let her go. Not as fast as he had planned. It would be difficult to inspire her for eternity once he had done it.

A life like him could also be lonely and desolate. Many souls had already gone mad after being transformed and being unable to return to the world of the living. It drove them mad. He wouldn’t let his (Y/N) go crazy. Not so easily.

“My Lord?” her sweet voice tore him from the thoughts that were swirling through his head. His gaze fell back on her as she gave him a worried look. He gently brushed a strand of her hair from her face and smiled calmly, “Forgive me, I was in my head.”

“Do you think maybe we should go back to the hall? Your guests would also like to exchange a few words with you. I don’t want to besiege you forever”, (Y/N) glanced over her bare shoulder and looked at the tinted glass doors that shielded her from the guests. Many couples were on the dance floor together and seemed cheerful.

“I think my guests will be able to be just fine without my constant presence for a while. Besides, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t want to spend some more time with you”, he replied, following her gaze briefly before turning her gaze to him.

It seemed almost supernatural to (Y/N) that a man like Lord Barnes would take such an interest in her, but it was mutual. She didn’t want to leave him. Not yet. She was delighted with his company and gave him a warm smile before she replied, “And it would be a lie if I said I am not pleased by your interest.”

A burst of hearty laughter came over James' lips. It had been a long time since he had heard such words that had truly touched him. Smiling, he held her hand that was still in his, before leading (Y/N) from the terrace into the wide garden, where many lanterns illuminated their path.

(Y/N) had already placed her hand on his arm and followed him through the small maze that stood in the middle of the garden. The tall hedges shielded them from curious eyes as they disappeared deeper and deeper into the maze.

“My parents will probably be wondering where I am”, (Y/N) smiled as she followed James through the hedges, still holding his hand tightly in fear she could lose him. Apparently, he knew his way around the maze very well, for he guided them safely to a small square that marked the middle of the maze.

In the middle of the square stood a beautifully decorated pavilion, clad in red and white roses and ivy trees. James led her there and sat down with her on one of the two benches.

“Your parents know you’re in good hands with me. I would never allow anything…bad to happen to you”, James merely replied. (Y/N) couldn’t have known that evil himself was still holding her hand and concealing his cruel nature with a pretty face. He could feel her heartbeat speeding up a bit.

“You know, (Y/N), a life like mine. . . is very lonely”, he told her, looking at the flowers hanging next to him on a pole. Yet he noticed how her gaze stuck to him. In a calm voice he continued, “Although I am very wealthy and have seen so much of the world, I have been missing someone to share this life with for years. Someone who accepts me for who I am and doesn’t want to be with me just for my money and my land. Do you understand what I mean?”

His gaze fell back on her. (Y/N)’s eyes almost pierced through his head as her eyes turned glassy. A soft sigh escaped her as she gazed down into her lap.

“I understand you very well. Even though my mother’s efforts are straining me a lot, I still want someone who. . . likes me for me. Who wants me. Not for my dowry, but for myself. I have never spoken to someone who understands me as well. . . as you do”, she replied, being astonished at her words.

James Barnes was the first man she could talk to without having to pretend. Her slightly rough nature had not deterred him. He had been tenacious, but still kind and attentive. It’s been a long time since she met someone like him. His personality seemed to drew her even closer to him. As if there was an invisible ribbon, which now tied her to him.

“You are so much more than just your dowry and a pretty face, (Y/N). Maybe it’s too hasty, but it would be a pleasure for me to get to know you better. The real (Y/N), who doesn’t have to act and doesn’t want to impress anyone. I already know you a little, but. . . not quite yet”, he stroked her cheek, giving her goosebumps. In a good way.

A short smile grazed her lips as she put her hand on his, “I would also like to get to know you better, my lord.”

“Please call me James. The title is too formal for me”, he smiled gently at her and ran his thumb over her cheekbones as (Y/N) muttered softly, “As you wish,…James.”

Slowly, he noticed her pulse increasing. He looked her in the eyes again as he got closer, and she could feel his cold breath on her skin. For a brief moment, it seemed like a dream to her, but it became reality at the moment as his lips touched hers. (Y/N) froze. She wasn’t expecting that. Not yet.

Immediately he broke away from the kiss and pulled his hand from her cheek, “Sorry, that was a little too hasty of me.”

If there was still blood flowing through his body, he’d be blushed. For the first time in a long time, he seemed nervous and ran his fingers through his hair. But (Y/N) grabbed his hand and shook her head calmly, “No, please. I was just…surprised that you…feel that way about me.”

“You’re just…so different. In a positive way, of course”, he held her hand and squeezed it briefly once when (Y/N) was the one who came a little closer and leaned forward, “No, you must forgive me. I didn’t mean to reject you. I like you…very much.”

Now James knew it was the right time.

Slowly he leaned over to her and kissed her gently on the mouth. Sighing her eyes closed as the young lady returned his kiss a little cautiously. After all, he had more experience in it than she did. But only now did (Y/N) realize how cold he was. It’s almost freezing.

“James, you’re so cold”, (Y/N) gently detached herself from the kiss and held her lips as he stroked her cheek and put a strand behind her ear: “Don’t worry. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Once again, he conquered her lips and pulled her closer to his chest. A little more courageously, (Y/N) grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him closer. She closed her eyes again as he slowly continued to kiss her but wandered from her cheek down to her throat. Her eyes remained closed as she enjoyed his kisses on her warm skin. His lips were still cold, but now she did not seem to care anymore.

Soon he could hear her rapid heartbeat as he lavished kisses on her neck. (Y/N) did not notice how his eyes darkened and his teeth stretched into pointed pillars.

For a moment, James wrestled with himself over whether he should really kill her or go even further. Still, one thing was very clear. (Y/N) would never see the light of day again.

"Forgive me." he breathed against her soft skin and closed his eyes before placing his hand over her mouth. Before (Y/N) could even realize what was happening to her, he rammed his teeth into her neck. Her scream was stifled by his hand, but her body didn't give up so quickly. Panicked, she pushed and pounded against his chest as James sucked the blood from her body. But all her attempts did her no good, as he was far too strong for her.

Finally, she slumped lifelessly in his arms and sank against his chest. Sighing, James detached himself from her neck and pressed another soft kiss to the wound where his teeth had pierced her skin moments ago.

Gently he laid the young woman on the bench and pushed her hair out of her face. Carefully he untied the ribbon at the back of her head and pulled the mask from her face.

"Just as I imagined, my darling..." he ran his thumb over her lower lip and looked into her lifeless eyes before pulling his own mask off his face and tossing it on the floor beside him.

He took her hand in his and kissed the back of her hand, "I'll take care of you, my angel. No one will ever be able to hurt you again. We'll be together forever."

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Not A Date

Summary: You’re Bruce’s cute little intern and he has a crush on you, but doesn’t want to admit it. Except Thor’s kind of his best friend and can tell. He just needs a little push.

Pairings: Bruce Banner x black!reader x Thor

Warnings: smut, mmf threesome, age gap, daddy kink, swearing

(A/N: decided to change it up a little to celebrate 500 followers 🥳. It’s a little long. Enjoy, like, and reblog.)

Tagged: @titty-teetee​, @harrysthiccthighss​, @iam-laiya, @sweeterthanthis , @night-of-the-living-shred​, @mariahthelioness29, @liquorlaughslove, @blackmissfrizzle

Bruce would have never thought about being with someone that worked under him until you. He liked to think of himself as a man with integrity when he wasn’t the Hulk. Yet he found himself thinking about you in the worst ways.

It was worse because you were half his age. He never wanted to cross that line. Despite Tony trying to convince him to ask you out for drinks. He didn’t wanna freak you out or make you think he was a creep. You really had no business looking that sexy in a lab coat, though.

What was worse was that it seemed like he couldn’t get a break from you. You genuinely enjoyed his company. You were eager to learn and Banner was definitely eager to teach you.

The only problem? Thor had taken a liking to you. How the fuck was he supposed to compete with that.

Would you rather have Banner? A nerd that spends all day in the lab or Thor. A king from another planet whose people had been forced hereafter said planet had been destroyed. The choice seemed pretty obvious to him.

Not that Thor wasn’t great. After everything that’s happened Bruce and Thor were practically best friends. Thor gotten him through a really rough time and obviously Banner had been there to help the god save his people. Then after everything with Thanos. They’d bonded in a way neither of them had expected.

He doesn’t even know why he tortures himself thinking about it. It was bad enough that the King of New Asgard was making googly eyes at you. Or that you seemed to be reciprocating it.

You were doing it right now. Laughing about something he said while his friend trailed his different colored eyes up and down your body. He couldn’t even blame him.

“Banner, you want to come out with us for dinner?” Thor had asked as you’d started taking off your coat getting ready to leave the lab for the day.

Bruce sighed. Why did Thor have to torture him like that. “No, it’s okay.”

“Oh, come on, Dr. Banner,” your voice was so smooth and sultry. Like you were always about to whisper something dirty. “Come out with us. All work and no play make you a dull boy.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your date,” he said as he finished packing up.

You tilted your head to the side with those confused puppy dog eyes. “Date? This isn’t a date. We’re just bored. And I wanna get drunk.”

“Yeah.” Thor nodded. “Just three friends having a few drinks and dinner.”

Banner looked between the two. Both of them with those sweet looks on their faces. Why the fuck did Thor have to be one of the nicest beings he’d ever met. It was hard to say no to him.

“Okay fine. Where are we going?” He asked as he finished packing up.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I get nachos!” You replied with a grin. “But I need to change first. I feel icky.”

Bruce had decided to do the same. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to at least look nice for the first time you’d be seeing him out of work. Not that he was planning on acting out on any feelings. Again. He didn’t wanna freak you out.

“I know your secret.” Thor narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face making Bruce almost smack onto him when he’d walked out of his room.

“Jesus, Thor!” He put his hand over his heart trying to not freak out completely.

He put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I do know your secret, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You like Lady Y/N. Am I right?”

His jaw dropped, but he tried to sober up quickly. “Wha- what. Why, why would, what makes you think that?” He stuttered.

“I’m a fertility god.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I can tell these things.”

“Oh...” he trailed off his cheeks getting bright red.

Thor laughed. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. She’s beautiful.”

“She’s half my age,” he replied.

“So?” He frowned in confusion. Of course, Thor would have no concept of an age difference when he’d lived through centuries.

Bruce sighed. “So, it’ll look odd if I start dating my twenty-five-year-old intern, Thor.”

He shrugged. “Look I’m sure Stark has done much worse. Don’t worry about what people will think or you’ll never get your chance.”

—

You sipped from your margarita from your spot beside him. Why’d you have to be so close. Not that he was complaining. You’d started drinking the tequila before you’d even gotten the chance to get your food.

It was so different seeing you out of the lab and compound. You were dressed so simply in a white v neck tucked into your black jeans and a pair of black boots, but you looked so good. Your hair was up and done in your natural look. Like a cute pineapple.

“Wait, can either of you even get drunk?” You asked.

Thor had set down his beer and nodded. “I can, there’s nothing like Asgardian mead, though. What about you, Banner?”

“I don’t drink. Not sure how the big guy would react,” he answered.

She nodded. “That makes sense. Hope you guys don’t mind if I get drunk as fuck.”

“Feel free,” Thor replied. “We’ll protect you. Won’t we?” Thor kicked him lightly under the table.

“Yeah... yeah,” Bruce replied.

“Dr. Banner, loosen up. We’re here to have fun.” You nudged him.

“Yeah you’re right,” he replied a tiny smile appearing on his face as he tapped his fingers against the table. “I guess a beer wouldn’t hurt. If anything, we can just stay at Tony’s.”

“How many homes does this man have?” You asked wrinkling your nose. 

—

Thor spun around with you on his back as you guys walked towards the entrance of the complex Bruce had told you that Tony wouldn’t mind if the three of you crashed in for the night. Just because Stark Tower was gone didn’t mean the billionaire didn’t have other properties around New York.

Banner laughed as he walked behind the both of you. He’d stuck to a beer to be safe and had loosened up at least a tad. He’d enjoyed seeing you have fun more than anything. All those stories the three of you would share. Of course, nothing compared to the odd adventures Thor had over the centuries, but still entertaining nonetheless.

Once you’d made it in you pretty much skipped inside as you looked around the penthouse. “Wow is it weird that I’m surprised that he’s trusting us with this place?”

“What’s not to trust?” Banner asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on. This is the face of a troublemaker.” You made a kissy face at him.

He shook his head. “You look like you stay up watching Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

Your jaw dropped. “Hey! Bill Nye is a national treasure. I used to have a crush on him. I think I have a thing for nerds.” You shrugged as you walked over to the kitchen.

Thor wiggled his eyebrows at Banner before motioning at him with his head. Bruce in turn shook his head at his friend. “Just talk to her,” Thor whispered still a little too loudly.

“No,” he replied.

“Think Tony will get mad if I drink some of his wine?” You asked as you took a wine glass.

“Eh, Stark will be fine,” Thor replied. “Enjoy yourself.”

So, the three of you had settled down to watch a movie. You’d also maybe raided the pantry which led to you and Thor throwing M&Ms into each other’s mouths while Bruce munched on chips. “At least Tony let us stay in the place that has snacks.” You laughed.

“Or does he know?” Thor asked with a smirk leaning over to steal one of Bruce’s chips.

“We’re not breaking and entering, are we? Because you guys might be able to get out of it, but...”

“We’re fine,” he answered, waving you off. “This is like the party house.”

“Yeah and where he goes when he wants to snack away from Pepper,” Bruce said with a smirk on his face.

“Wow shady, Dr. Banner,” you gasped with a giggle.

He groaned. “How many times have I told you to call me Bruce.”

“What if I like it?” You teased. “Besides if I call you Bruce I’m gonna end up calling you Brucie.”

“How about you can call me whatever you want then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he knew he was in for trouble. “Fine. What if I call you Daddy?”

For a minute, Bruce was sure his brain had short circuited. As soon as that word left your mouth, he could feel it happen. He closed his eyes for a minute. Almost like he was savoring it. He opened his mouth ready to say something witty or flirty or anything and, “Uhhhh...” It was like his voice had short circuited.

“Bruce, I’m kidding.” You laughed as you stood up, poking his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

As his friend was trying to process what had just happened, Thor sat beside staring at him with a dopey grin on his face. “I told you,” he teased waving his hands excitedly.

“She was just joking,” he quickly retorted.

Thor shook his head still absolutely beaming. “No. She’s totally into you.”

Bruce groaned because even if you were, it was still so inappropriate. “Thor, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Who’s going to stop you?” Thor shrugged. “Now fuck the twenty-five-year-old or whatever that is.”

“Thor!” Banner said, feeling himself almost lose control. The Hulk must have had a crush on you, too, because he did not like the other man talking about you like that.

Thor quickly sobered up, not meaning to push him that far. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Is everything okay?” You asked peeking out of the bathroom. You looked a little panicked because in the few weeks you’d been helping him you’d never seen him go Hulk. This was the first time you’d even gotten a glimpse of him.

“Yeah. Just...” Thor looked at Bruce. “Give us a minute, Sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you replied softly biting your lip and close the door again. You’d already been over so many evacuations plan for just in case it happened, but you kind of cared about him so it would be kinda hard to see him like that.

“You okay?”

Bruce had his eyes closed and nodded. “No. I’m fine. I just... he wanted to come out and play a little.”

“You sure? We can go for a walk if you want. Clear your mind or whatever.”

He laughed. “No. I’m okay. Thanks. Y/N, you can come in!”

You peeked your head out again, looking between the two of them. “Everything cool?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Bruce answered feeling a little bad if he’d scared you. 

You came back over and took a seat on the couch that was across from them. Like you weren’t sure if you should get close. 

“Y/N, you can sit here,” he said, looking down at your former spot on the floor. 

You knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but this kind of felt like a command and you found yourself complying. You weren’t even sure if it was from what’d just happened or from the daddy thing. “Okay,” you replied softly, making your way over.

You sat criss cross applesauce in between them. Thor peeked out from over the top of your head, staring him down. ‘Do it,” the god mouthed to him. You looked over and groaned. “Shoot forgot to get more wine,” you said standing up again.

“Banner, be a man,” Thor mumbled.

“I could say the same thing for you.” 

“I am a man. I would have kissed her already. Taken control. Like a man.”

“I don’t want to scare her off.”

“So, you do like her!” Another grin grew on his face. “I told you.”

Bruce groaned softly. “Why would I want to do that with you here anyway?”

“Just trust me on this,” he replied as you walked up with another glass. They probably should have stopped you because by now you were pretty tipsy.

“Ohh, trust you with what?” You asked, sitting back in your spot.

“Nothing,” Banner replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, but he won’t admit it.” Thor added with a dramatic sigh. 

You scrunched up your face in this cute pout as you got on your knees to wrap your arms around Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Brucie. I won’t let Thor bully you.”

Thor was so giddy. 

Your breasts were so close to his face. “I thought you were supposed to call me Daddy?” He asked, looking up at you.

You got back on your knees your arms still around him. “Bruce! You’re so bad.” He could have done it. Just moved a little bit closer. Instead he froze again. 

At that exact moment. While you were waiting right there. For him to just move closer to you. To connect your lips. His fucking phone rang. He groaned, resting his head against your shoulder. He dug it into his pockets to answer it. “Fucking Tony.”

You retracted your arms as he got up to take it. You leaned back resting your ass on your heels. “What, Tony?” He said a little harshly into the phone after he’d made it into the hallway.

“Where’d you put my wrench?” He asked and Bruce could hear the clattering of things being moved in the background. 

“Seriously? This is what you’re calling me about?” Bruce laughed sarcastically.

“I texted you, but you never got back to me. I knew you three were out on your date thing.”

“It’s not a date, we’re just hanging out,” Bruce replied clearing his throat. “Why would you call it a date?”

“Yeah, whatever. Keep lying to yourselves. Anyway, where’s my wrench?”

It took a minute, but he’d finally found it and he was hoping he could get back to where the two of you were a moment ago. 

It didn’t even make any sense. He was a fifty-year-old man, he shouldn’t have even been trying anything with you. Yet there he was ready to risk it all. For as Thor kept putting it, twenty-five-year-old pussy.

Of course, though, Bruce had the worst luck in the world. Between the Hulk and that whole thing. Making Ultron. Yeah, he’d fucked up a few times. Apparently walking away from you was one because there you were with his one of his best friends making out with you just like how he was supposed to.

Thor pulled away from your mouth to start kissing her neck. His hand went to one of her breasts. You looked up at him with this troublemaker eyes. “I told you to be a man, Bruce,” Thor said, in between nips on your skin. “So, I’m showing you how.”

He could feel his face getting hot. Like the big guy was threatening to come. He didn’t want you to see him like that, but as you stood up you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay. I have enough holes for the both of you.”

His jaw dropped, but he couldn’t respond as you’d already smashed your lips into his. Your mouths worked together. His hands stayed at his side as you pushed him back until he could sit on the couch.

You climbed on his lap. Straddling him as his hands went to your ass like it was an instinct. He could pretty much hear the Hulk actually giving him kudos for doing it.

“See how much better that is,” Thor said sitting next to the two of you as he started kissing your neck.

Bruce thought for a minute. He should be telling Thor to go away, but the fertility god was just trying to help him out. Maybe he could play and not really touch.

“Brucie,” you moaned as he started to trail down your neck with his lips.

“Been teasing me all night. Haven’t you?” He said, into your ear.

You nodded with a chuckle as you started to roll your hips against him. He moaned into your neck as he cupped the bottom of your ass. You gasped, “Daddy.”

His dick rubbed into you in the most delicious way. Fuck he felt so damn good. “That’s such a good girl,” Thor said, coming to sit the beside of you.

“Thor!” Bruce pulled away.

Thor rolled his eyes. “Stop making this weird.”

You laughed grabbing the man who’s lap you were currently on top of. “It’s okay,” you said in such a cute way, your body perking up.

He sighed before looking at Thor who started to kiss your neck again. You didn’t even give him a chance to think as you smashed your lips against his. It didn’t take long for that to become his focus.

One of them started to pull your shirt up making the other follow. You helped them as you pulled it from your body, lifting it over your head. They kissed the tops of your breasts as Thor reached behind to undo your bra. “Look at these beautiful fucking tits,” Thor said licking your nipple.

Banner went back up to your lips, grabbing your ass with so much more force. Suddenly Bruce stood up with you wrapped around his waist. Ended up dropping you so your back was against the couch. You squealed then laughed as he started kissing you again.

There was still enough room between the two of you to where Thor could fondle you and kiss your neck. Honestly you felt like a fucking goddess with the two of them worshipping you like that.

You started to undo Banner’s shirt needing so much more. He helped to undo the rest while you reached forward to unfasten his belt. He was quick to help so you could start to work off your own pants.

It all happened so quickly. Before he knew it the both of you were naked and you were ready for him to fuck you. “Please,” you whined.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“For you to fuck me.”

Just like that he slammed into you, not being able to wait anymore. Fuck it had felt so good. He’d been wanting to do this ever since you started coming around. All that pent-up sexual frustration.

The noises coming out of your mouth were perfect. He couldn’t believe he was finally inside of you. “Yes,” you moaned.

Thor had taken his dick from his pants as he watched the two of you. Bruce never thought he’d find himself here. Fucking you with his best friend stroking himself as he watched. It was probably hotter than any porn he’d ever watched.

“Harder,” you whimpered.

“Fuck her like a man, Banner,” Thor groaned. “Like the slut she is.”

“Yes,” you mewled.

Banner groaned before pulling out of you. “Turn over.” He demanded.

You did as you were told, flipping onto your stomach so your ass was in the air. He wasted no time in slamming into you making you yelp. “That’s good, Banner. Fuck her just like that.” Thor reached out to stroke your cheek. “You look so beautiful getting your cunt stuffed.”

You moaned looking up at the god with big doe eyes. The way you were biting your lip. Banner honestly felt intoxicated just from being inside of you. As he worked his hips back and forth while you worked back against him, he honestly felt like he’d died and went to heaven. Even Hulk was giving him props.

“That’s it,” Thor groaned as you finally put your mouth on his dick. As much as he was trying to resist it before, it was kind of hot to see you getting your face fucked by Thor as he fucked your pussy. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned taking your mouth off of Thor. Bruce rubbed your clit making trying to coax it out.

You tightened around him. He honestly felt like you were trying to milk his dick. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Cum for me, Baby. Be a good girl and cum for Daddy.”

His words made you explode because you were not prepared for him to say anything like that. Banner pulled out of you helping you flip back over onto your back. He once again wasted no time to enter your overly sensitive pussy.

You scratched his back and he noted that it was probably his favorite feeling. The way you raked your nails up and down. “Oh, Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned.

Thor got on his feet so he could get access to your mouth once again. You turned your head, ready to serve. “Thor!” Banner groaned.

“It’s okay,” you moaned. “I like it. And, look at how pretty it is.”

“See, Banner. It’s okay.” Thor moaned feeling your tongue back on him.

Besides it felt kind of good to be this desired. As a woman of science there was something so hot about Bruce Banner fucking the shit out of you while your mouth was full of dick from an alien god king. This was like your dream come true.

Though hesitant at first, Bruce was finding himself enjoying seeing your mouth be used by Thor at the same time as he fucked you. The way you licked it like he was your favorite popsicle before taking into your mouth. He could tell you were having a little trouble me multitasking since you kept pulling away from Thor to moan.

“Fuck, Daddy!” You whined having to pull away from the other dick once again. Your head was swimming because it was almost too much, but you were determined to please.

“Ah, ah, ah, Pet, I didn’t tell you to stop,” Thor scolded grabbing the puff of hair on top of your head so he could push back into your mouth. Even at the strange angle you were sucking his dick like a perfect little cocksucker.

It honestly looked so good. Seeing you moan as you tried to keep up. Bruce’s mouth was practically watering as he looked down at your spread-out legs and the way you attempted to take his best friend down your throat. He wasn’t sure if you could because Thor was as big as he looked like he’d be. Then again seeing you choke on him sounded kind of hot.

Slobber drooled down your chin. You were making such a mess, but it looked like that had been exactly what you’d set out to do. Bruce had only seen blowjobs that sloppy in porn. “That’s such a good girl,” Thor groaned. “Look at that. Doesn’t she look so pretty like this.”

“So pretty,” Bruce grunted as he fucked you getting more on your body now. He buried his head into your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You were slurping on Thor’s dick and fuck you were so wet. How was your pussy so damn wet. “Been teasing me all this time, huh. How long you been wanting this? Is that why you applied for the internship? So, you could take my dick?” He angled his hips in a way so that he could go deeper. His cock surrounded by your spongy walls.

As much as you’d fantasizes a long time about him, you never thought it’d be like this. Fuck were you pleasantly surprised.

“Answer me, Honey,” he said, looking back up at you.

Thor’s hand was still gripped in your hair and he forced you off of him long enough for you to speak. Except at that moment you finally reached your breaking point cumming around him. You felt yourself milk his dick and all he did was keep fucking you. “Yes!” You cried. “Fuck me, Daddy!” You begged.

“Such a good girl,” Thor cooed before shoving himself back inside your mouth.

You moaned around him. All that spittle on your face. Bruce wanted to kiss you so bad, but considering your mouth was a little preoccupied he hesitated. It did look good, though. He glanced up at Thor who was mostly watching you take him like a good girl.

He noticed Bruce’s eyes on him before looking down at him with this slight smirk, shrugging his shoulders. As a god and until recently a prince, he had no shortage of lovers. This meant from different beings to whomever. Men or women or anything else. So, with the way Bruce was looking at him, he wasn’t really shocked.

Bruce on the other hand had only been with a handful of women. As Thor’s thick cock was just right there in front of him with your lips sucking at it, he felt like he couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to lick what you hadn’t been able to fit into your mouth.

Thor hissed at feeling your mouth and his tongue now added. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

You smiled around the dick in your mouth and pulled out with a giggle. “Daddy!” You squealed. Bruce blushed, pulling way. You leaned into him to connect your lips with his. He stopped moving and instead held you there. “It’s okay. I’m having so much fun.”

“Me, too,” he said, his face still red.

“Banner, it’s okay,” Thor said, rubbing the other man’s salt and pepper curly hair. 

Bruce found it more comforting than he even expected before lifting away from you so he could lick it again, tasting the saltiness. You moaned underneath him connected your lips to his neck. “Don’t stop, Daddy,” you whispered in his ear before nibbling along his earlobe.

He ground himself, starting to move his hips again. This time fucking you with slower, deeper thrusts. This tingle that had already built up inside of you grew more intense. He was working your pussy so fucking good. Then seeing him do that you could feel a new orgasm building up inside of you.

“Help me, Baby,” Bruce said.

Thor smiled because he was happy to see the teamwork. Besides two mouths were definitely better than one. “That’s it.”

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum again,” your voice shook as you suddenly clung to him. This one was definitely going to be more intense. 

You squealed out your moans opening your mouth before biting down on your lip only for your jaw to drop again. You lip quivered into a pout while your brows tensed up. He couldn’t help it has he mesmerized the little details. Noticing how your eyes got so desperate looking. And it was for him. For what he was doing to you. Of course, you’d clearly enjoyed what Thor had done to your mouth, but he was the one fucking you into two orgasms one right after the other.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for Daddy,” he grunted because he could feel himself ready to also cum inside that pretty pussy. “Want Daddy to cum all in this pussy?”

You nodded, but you were so sensitive at this point because your orgasm was intense. Bruce quickly followed behind unloading into you. Tremors ran through your body as your eyes closed.

When Bruce looked down to see he immediately got off of you. “Shit, Y/N,” he said, he rubbed your cheek. “Hey, hey,” he talked to you ever so softly.

Thor got down next to you. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you back tightly, kissing your temple. Bruce rubbed got down beside him, so he could rub your back. “I’m sorry. It was just a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bruce said. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” You laid back down as Thor kissed your forehead.

“Why don’t we go lay down?” Thor suggested.

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

Thor carried you to one of the many bedrooms. Your legs wrapped around his waist; chin perched on his shoulder. Bruce trailed behind watching the glazed look in your eyes.

As Thor laid you down, he made sure the blankets were pulled over you before kissing the top of your head again. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you answered contently.

“Need anything?” Bruce asked. “Water? Pretty sure we’ve been through most of the snacks.”

“Can you lay down with me?” You asked looking between them with big eyes and a pout. Thor grinned before getting in beside you, Bruce quickly doing the same. You got snuggly between them. Thor against your backside and Bruce in front of you so you could wrap your arms around them.

You were enjoying the closeness of them. They would kiss you softly wherever they could reach and traced their fingertips on your skin. All the affection was making you feel like you’d settled into his haze.

Thor tickled your side and you giggled trying to get closer to Banner. “Daddy, tell him to stop.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed your nose. “Is Thor teasing you, Baby?”

“I’m the tease?” Thor gasped. “I’m the one who didn’t even get to cum and somehow I’m the tease?”

You laughed. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be sorry,” he said, as he brought his hands further down over your butt, squeezing your flesh.

The jealousy Banner would have felt earlier was gone. Instead replaced with curiosity over what he could possibly do to her. The anticipation was making him hard all over again.

“Daddy!” You gasped; eyes wide as you looked into Bruce’s. “He’s touching me!” It sounded like you were trying to tattle and Bruce couldn’t help it as he laughed.

“Oh yeah? What’s he doing?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

Thor had lifted your leg up so he could stuff his large fingers into your cunt from behind. “His fingers are in my pussy,” you replied with a moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels really good,” you whimpered.

Bruce chuckled as he pulled you in so he could kiss your lips again. Thor kissed your shoulder as you started to leak all over his fingers. “That’s such a good girl. Why don’t you ask Daddy if I can fuck this pussy,” he whispered in your ear, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, Daddy, can I?” You asked.

“That’s not how you ask politely, Sweetheart,” Bruce scoffed.

You swallowed down a moan because fuck Thor was really working you over good. “Daddy, can Thor please fuck me?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. He felt like he was drunk off of you. For once even Hulk was at peace.

Thor grabbed you making you face him as he kissed you greedily. You climbed on top of him straddling his waist. He grabbed your hips to lift you up and then eased you back down onto his dick.

“Oh.” Was all you could say. Your face felt hot all of a sudden. It felt like you were almost too full from him.

Bruce smiled at the dazed look on your face. You looked so beautiful. “How does it feel?”

“He’s so big,” you whimpered.

“You wanted a God’s dick baby,” Thor said beginning to move you up and down his length. “You have to take it.”

“Is it too much?” Bruce asked taking his hardening member into his hand because watching the two of you was so perfect.

“I can take it,” you whimpered through gritted teeth because you weren’t entirely sure you were telling the truth.

“That’s such a good girl,” Thor groaned. Fuck your cunt was tight. If you weren’t having such a hard time now, he would have been slamming in and out of you. Your pussy felt so damn good.

Bruce’s watched intently as the other man fucked into you. He wasn’t sure what had come over him tonight, but he doesn’t think there’s any coming back from this. “Fuck, Thor,” he groaned, “your dick is too big for her.”

“Is it too big for you, Sweetheart?” Thor asked. “Too much?”

“I promise I can take it,” you cried because you felt like you were gonna be split in two.

“You better fucking take it,” Bruce said.

Thor finally started to pick up the pace. You threw your head back, biting your lips, eyes squeezed shut with your eyebrows furrowed.

You looked so gorgeous like this and even though you’d just made Bruce cum in that pretty pussy he wanted to do it again. Thor had this smirk on his face because there was something so funny about this little human woman struggling to take him.

Thor looked at Bruce as he’d glanced over him and Bruce wasn’t sure what came over him as he pressed his own kiss to Thor’s lips. Thor always needing to dominate kissed the other man deeply tongues fighting against each other.

You finally opened your eyes noticing the change in Thor’s movements as he tried to keep up with both at the same time. You started to move your hips faster because fuck they looked hot together and even though it felt like Thor was going to break you, you needed it.

“Fu- fuck!” You yelped as your orgasm came through. Thor smacked your ass and laughed against Bruce.

“See I told you her twenty-five-year-old pussy would feel good,” Thor couldn’t help himself from saying.

“Thor!” Bruce groaned.

You stopped moving, a laugh wrecking up through your body. “What?”

Your night pretty much went the same way. Getting used by both men until you were completely tapped out. You fell asleep nestled between them as they whispered sweet nothings to you and surprisingly each other.

Bruce couldn’t believe the smile that was on his face. Whatever aftermath happens after this he could deal with it. As long as you and Thor were there. Well mostly you since Thor would have to go back to New Asgard at some point. 

—

“I don’t even know how she found out!” Tony complained to Happy for what was probably the millionth time.

The other man shrugged. “Maybe the kid let it slip?” He suggested as they finally came through the door. The both of them looked at each other as they saw the bowls of snacks around the floor and the only have drunken glass of wine.

And all the clothes.

“Who the fuck...” Tony gasped.

“I’ll do a sweep of the place,” Happy said already getting into protective mode.

Of course, Tony not being able to be patient wanted to see who the hell it was that had clearly had sex on his damn couch and didn’t even clean any of the evidence.

His jaw dropped seeing you in bed all safe and sound with Bruce. All of the irritation he felt was suddenly replaced with shock, but also relief because at least it was just Bruce. Besides he needed to get laid.

Thor came out of the bathroom at that moment, making Tony’s eyes widen as soon as he saw the god in all his naked glory. “Hi, Stark.” Thor greeted him with a grin as he went back over to the bed.

“I fucking called it!” Tony shouted, jolting the two of you awake.

You let out a scream before throwing a pillow to hit him in the face. Happy had covered his eyes because this was too much for him. “We’ll just wait outside,” he said, grabbing Tony’s shirt to yank him away.

“I knew it was a date!” He giddily yelled.

“Well, at least we don’t have to tell everyone because Tony is probably having Friday text everyone.” Thor shrugged, before scooping the both of you into his arms. Fuck, Tony. He was going back to sleep with his two small humans and then take them out for breakfast.