#contemplating whether he's even capable of that and feeling lost and alone

[uniformbravo]

[doumadono]

My sincerest congratulations on your milestone, hon! 🎉🥳 I want to request "Realizing they’re falling in love" with Dabi, Hawks, Shoto and Bakugo, if possible in headcanons format

BNHA boys realizing they’re in love - headcanons

A/N: thank you oh so much, love! Your support means the world to me ♥

MASTERLIST

Dabi

Dabi's realization that he's falling in love is marked by an internal struggle. He's fiercely independent and has always believed that emotions are a weakness, so acknowledging his feelings is a battle against his own principles.

His attraction is laced with a sense of danger and forbidden allure. Dabi finds himself drawn to your unwavering determination and willingness to stand by his side, even as he remains shrouded in mystery.

As Dabi falls deeper, his rough demeanor occasionally melts away, revealing a more tender side. He may let his guard down when you're alone, sharing stories from his past or allowing a genuine smile to grace his lips, only for it to vanish as quickly as it came.

He often finds himself lost in thought, pondering whether he deserves happiness or if his actions have forever condemned him to a life of darkness.

He starts paying more attention to the details of your interactions, almost obsessively analyzing every word and gesture. Dabi's internal struggle manifests in his occasional distance, as he battles his own inner demons.

While uncertainties may still linger, he's come to realize that the depth of his emotions is a strength, and that love perhaps has the power to reshape not only his destiny, but also his perception of himself.

Hawks

Hawks' realization that he's falling in love comes with a mix of surprise and intrigue. He's used to navigating complex situations, but matters of the heart have always been a bit of a blind spot for him.

His attraction to you is accompanied by a desire to make you smile. Hawks becomes increasingly attuned to your moods and goes out of his way to provide comfort and support, often resorting to his sense of humor to lighten the mood.

He finds himself seeking out your company not only during downtime but also in the midst of his hero duties. Hawks secretly enjoys your conversations and becomes a master at multitasking, balancing his work and his growing affection.

Hawks' love is built on mutual respect and a shared sense of purpose. He's attracted to your determination and your unwavering belief in the importance of heroism, and he finds himself more drawn to you as you work together to make the world a better place.

Despite his easygoing facade, Hawks experiences moments of vulnerability when he's alone with his thoughts. He questions whether he's capable of reciprocating your feelings and worries about the impact his dangerous lifestyle might have on your potential relationship.

Hawks' journey towards embracing his feelings becomes an integral part of his character development. He learns that vulnerability doesn't equate to weakness and that opening his heart might be his most courageous act yet. As he navigates this new territory, Hawks finds himself on a path of self-discovery, growth, and a deeper understanding of what it truly means to be a hero.

Shoto

Shoto's realization that he's falling in love is marked by a quiet and introspective process. He's used to keeping his emotions in check, so acknowledging his feelings takes time and careful contemplation.

His attraction is rooted in a deep admiration for your strength and kindness. Shoto finds himself drawn to your unwavering support, especially during moments when he grapples with his past and the complexities of his family.

He might leave a carefully selected book on your desk or prepare a warm cup of tea after a particularly challenging day, using his own experiences to empathize with your struggles.

He becomes more open about his own emotions as he navigates his feelings for you. Shoto shares his thoughts about his parents and siblings, his struggles with his dual Quirks, and his dreams for the future, creating a deeper level of understanding between you.

Shoto's love is quiet but steadfast. He's willing to stand by your side through thick and thin, offering his unwavering support and stability even as he continues to grapple with his own inner conflicts.

He finds solace in the simple act of holding your hand or sharing a comfortable silence, allowing your presence to be a source of healing and reassurance.

Bakugo

Bakugo's realization that he's falling in love is met with intense frustration. He's not one to easily acknowledge his emotions, and the idea of being vulnerable in this way infuriates him.

His attraction is laced with a mix of admiration and exasperation. Bakugo finds himself drawn to your ability to stand your ground against him, even as he struggles to come to terms with his own feelings.

Bakugo's expressing his affection through action rather than words. He might go out of his way to train with you, pushing both of you to your limits, or subtly lend you a hand when you least expect it.

He starts showing a more protective side, even if he tries to hide it behind his explosive temper. Bakugo's concern for your safety becomes evident when he's more willing to work as a team and takes extra precautions during battles.

Bakugo's love is fiery and intense. He becomes fiercely loyal and is willing to face any challenge head-on to ensure your happiness and well-being.

Despite his gruff exterior, Bakugo experiences moments of inner turmoil. He's torn between his pride and his growing feelings, leading to inner monologues where he wrestles with his own vulnerability. "Damn it, fucking shit, why does this have to happen? Stupid emotions! I don't have time for this crap!"

Bakugo's gradually letting his guard down in your presence. He might crack a rare smile or engage in playful banter, allowing glimpses of his more genuine self to shine through.

[diaconicon]

Could you write a connor stoll x daughter of Athena reader. Where connor watches the reader and another person do romantic kareoke and he gets jelous because he think the reader likes that person.

⬆️This was an anonymous ask, which I unfortunately lost because I accidently deleted it😭 I'm so sorry to whoever requested this, I hope you still find it in some way!

All my Loving

connor stoll x daughterofathena! reader

Summary: basically what the request says, made it a bit christmassy because its in less than a week (2 days now), and i miss the spirit

Warnings: none (I think), probs ooc everyone. We're just gonna ignore the fact that the Camp has the barrier that stops it from raining inside okay? I kind of forgot don't hate me love you guys xoxo. English isn't my first language, so there could be some errors

22nd of December. It was almost Christmas, and Camp Half-Blood was in a fuss between Christmas decorations, some of the campers packing to go back to their families the day after for the Holiday, and the preparations for the 24th and 25th for the other campers who would stay, everyone had something to do and somewhere to be, not leaving a lot of free time to wish everyone goodbye and a Merry Christmas.

Here came the Hermes Cabin, as always, to 'save the day' - as said by its residents. They decided to host a karaoke night on the 22nd as a sort of pre-Christmas celebration, so everyone could also enjoy it with their friends who would go away the next day.

Of course, everyone was invited - although it was still a mystery how the Hermes Cabin was always capable of pulling out all these big parties without getting in trouble - but you were still debating on whether to go or not, not being the most social type, and definitely not very inclined to be singing, but after contemplating for some minutes, you decided to cave in and go. Most of your half-brothers and sisters wouldn't be there, but, after all, Connor did ask you personally to come, saying that 'you would really do him a favour' because 'everyone was just so boring and no fun to be around', and you just couldn't say no to him, you were, besides, quite fond of both him and his brother and it would be rude to just not go.

I mean, you wouldn't have to sing anyways if you didn't want to, right? You could just go, have fun with your friends, have a few drinks, watch other people sing and, most importantly, spend a bit of time with Connor before you went back home to your family for the holiday's.

Well, you were wrong. Almost everything was going perfectly. You arrived at the cabin, said hello to some of your friends, poured yourself a drink, and then, as planned, you went to search for Connor, who you found in a corner next to his brother, who scattered away (not without tripping at least a few times) almost immediately after greeting you with a quick "Oh hello there, how are you? Everything okay? Hope you're enjoying yourself. Oh, just a minute, will you? I think someone's calling me - and then turning to his brother - catch you later, Con."

And that left just you and Connor alone, in an awkward silence. Although you were usually so talkative with him, it really wasn't so hard to open up when he was around. He always let you feel so comfortable without even trying, you guessed it was in his demeanour, the way he walked, the way he acted, you didn't know exactly, but he definitely wasn't much of an awkward person as you were, quite confident of himself, but quieter than his brother, calmer, which made him more likable in your opinion. He was fun to be around, very animated, but when needed, he could also be very sensible and almost a shoulder to cry on. He was just so.. warm, almost like the sun, or an oven! You weren't sure how to put it, but he did really remind you of freshly baked cookies, who were still warm ones out of the oven, but that you had to wait for to cool down before eating, otherwise it would be 'bad' for your stomach (at least according to your dad).

But maybe it was something in the air that night, the music was really loud and you already could barely hear yourself over the others singing, maybe it was Travis' abrupt disappearance, but neither of you said a word, not even a 'hello' or a 'how are you?' After some seconds, what must have felt like minutes, you decided to be the first one to break the silence, then you saw that he too wanted to say something, and opting to let him take the word instead, you leaned in to hear him better. But just then, some of your other friends called you, wanting you to come sing with them and even after making it pretty clear that you had no intention whatsoever of participating, they still dragged you out to the karaoke section, pretty much forcing you to sing at this point. Maybe you were exaggerating - well, you were definitely exaggerating - but at that moment, it felt like being processed to death, tragically waiting for a guillotine to cut your head off.

You didn't know how it happened, but you ended up having to sing a duet with some Apollo boy you didn't even know well, although quite cute in your opinion, you couldn't even seem to recall his name.

Not quite as bad as you thought it would be, the song went by really fast, and you could even say you had fun. After chatting a bit with the Apollo kid, finally remembering his name, and him suggesting to spend more time together once in a while, having enjoyed himself, you bid goodbye and immediately went back to find Connor, still a bit embarrassed by the public scene, which you still wished to have avoided.

Though, not being able to find Connor anywhere, you decided to ask his brother if he had seen him.

"Connor? I think I saw him going outside just a few minutes ago. If you see him, tell him to come inside quickly, will you? It's like freezing out there, and I don't even think he took his coat with him"

You thanked Travis, grabbed Connor's coat, which he left in the cabin (by demand of his older brother), and went outside as well, hoping to catch up with the latter, wherever he went to.

Travis was right. It was indeed freezing, and in the time you spent in the Hermes Cabin, it also had begun to snow. Realising this, your heart couldn't help but to warm up a little. You absolutely loved snow, especially in this time of the year, only adding more to the Christmas spirit already strong around the Camp.

You eventually found Connor after a while near the beach, the sand now mixing with the snow that was falling, secretly thanking the Gods that he didn't go into the forest or it would've been probably impossible to find him.

He was sitting on a random trench, with his back to you, looking out in the distance, to the stars or the sea you didn't know which, still not having noticed your presence behind him.

So, you carefully went up to him, anxious of approaching, like reaching out for a baby deer who would otherwise get scared if you were too loud. Not only that, but you were also anxious about what to say. He looked upset, and you didn't know why. For how much you tried, you just couldn't think of what could've made him so distressed. Was it something you said? Well, you didn't exactly say anything... was that it? Did he expect you to have said something? Had he wanted to tell you something before you were dragged away by your friends? Maybe it was just the change in the weather that affected him so much. It was always pretty warm at Camp anyway. Maybe it was something that had been going on all day, and you just didn't know. You only first saw him this evening, and he already looked pretty off.

Whatever it could've been, you decided to just go and rip the band-aid off. You would've to ask him directly what was wrong, so you could try and help and comfort him.

You were now not even a few steps behind him, but he was still oblivious of you being there (sometimes you asked yourself how he was still alive with how bad his hearing and reflexes were), so you extended your hand towards him, the one with which you were holding his coat, and poked him on his shoulder, finally capturing his attention.

'Here, put it on, your brother is going to kill us both if you don't', you said, referring to the jacket, trying to relieve some of the tension around the air.

He didn't protest and grabbed the jacket, but he still didn't say anything and turned away immediately, his face impassable.

You set next to him, and for a while, just looked at him, not saying anything. Anxiety filled your stomach up to the point you thought you were going to feel sick. He didn't look only upset anymore but actually mad. Angry. And you were so scared it had to do with something you did. In the fraction of time you used to contemplate on what to say and how to start the conversation you were clearly about to have, he beat you to it and started first.

'Well, thanks for the coat. You can go back now if you'd like', he said, irritated, not once looking at your direction but keeping his eyes fixed on a vanishing point which you still couldn't figure out.

'Is something wrong? You know if something happened you can just tell me, I'm here to help you you know. Just.. please, I don't like to see you like this. You know if it's something I did, I'm sorry, I didn't realise. But just tell me, okay? I'm so sorry if I hurt you in any way.' You were desperate at this point, just hoping this would end soon. You'd never seen Connor this upset, and it quite frankly scared you a bit.

But just then, his gaze softened. He just couldn't stay mad at you, not like this, not seeing how much stress this caused you. He wasn't even mad at you. He could never be mad at you, not even if his life depended on it, he thought.

'No, I'm sorry, okay. Really. Just forget about it, I'm overreacting. It's nothing'. Although his voice was sincere, he felt like he needed to say more than that, much more, if he wanted to make it better. 'Look.. it's just that.. well. Just give me a moment, will you? I need to think of how to say this right.' It was now his turn to feel anxious, and he started picking at everything he could find to keep calm. His nails, the wood on the trench you two were sitting on, the zipper of his jacket, and so on.

You weren't doing much better, shaking your legs up and down, picking at the skin of your lips, and basically dying of anxiety. If you were exaggerating before, now you definitely weren't. You would've preferred the guillotine over this at any moment.

'Yes, of course, take all the time that you need. I'm here for you.'

And after that, it fell silent. The only sound you could hear were the waves of the sea and the snow falling on the both of you, and in the distance, a bit of the long forgotten party going on in the Hermes Cabin. You were now only waiting for Connor to start speaking. You wanted to say patiently, but it was eating you up inside.

A few minutes went by, and you couldn't take it anymore. You were about to say something before he beat you to it again.

'Okay, so this isn't going to be easy to say, but I want you to listen to me until I'm done. Please. I know I'm not the best speaker in the world, and I really did want to make this more worthy of you, more meaningful, but I'm probably gonna mess things up, so I'm sorry in advance, but just try and listen, okay?' He began, carefully, and you just nodded, following his instruction and waiting for him to continue.

'Okay so, well, I thought this was honestly kind of obvious already - he said this with a smile - but I really like you, and I mean really, since at least a few years I think already. And seeing you with that Apollo kid, I don't know it just made me mad, I thought I couldn't stand a chance against someone like that, so much more talented and what not than me. And not only him, I mean everyone. You're just so perfect in every sense, and I know you could do so much better than me, so I got a bit self-conscious, but that's it. I'm so sorry for worrying you. It really wasn't my intention to be such a dick, but my emotions got the better of me.'

You were left speechless. You really didn't know what to say. Not even a sound could come out of your mouth at that point. Luckily, it didn't have to because Connor went on before you could even think of anything to say.

'No, wait, don't say anything yet. I'm not finished. I want to say it better. This is definitely not how I imagined this. You know I made up so many speeches in my head, practising on what I would tell you if ever came the right moment. But I forgot all of them now, so I'll just have to figure something out,

'I am every second more infatuated by your presence, by your kindness, your beauty. You leave me without breath every time that I see you, and every time, just a bit more than the day before. Every time I look up at the stars, I'm reminded of you, perplexed on how the Gods didn't take you as the inspiration of such creations. Every time I look up at the moon, I can't think of anything else other than how your beauty surpasses even hers, how the reflection of the moonlight on the water isn't just an allegory of you. Because it's something so beautiful that you just can't take your eyes off it. How honey isn't scraped directly from your voice because it's even more sweet and warm than a cup of tea. You fill me with joy of which I've never experienced before, which I didn't even know was real. I'm at every second more and more confused on how all of nature doesn't revolve around you, on how it wasn't created for you and because of you, for at every thing I look at I am every constant reminded of you. If I ever was to meet Aphrodite, I know she would take your appearance and, although I can't dare say you are more beautiful than her or you know what would happen, I can say that in this world and all the universe you are one of the Gods' most beautiful creations. That if it weren't for Prometheus, I would steal the fire just for you, and you only, to keep you warm from days like this one. To keep you warm like you do constantly to me, by just your mere presence, by just an insignificant conversation you could have with me, which I hold dear forever and never forget. What I'm trying to say is that I don't only like you, no... no. I would hold up the sky full of stars and galaxies for you, I would go up to the moon to retrieve your lost items for you, even just to see your smile, to see you happy, to know that you are content. For you have already stolen my soul and hold my heart, I couldn't sell it to the devil, but I would, just to let him promise me to always keep you safe, that nothing could ever touch or hurt you. For you only I think and plan, for you only I ever want to live on. I love you, I really do, and I only hope for you to love me back at your own pace and time. But I could never force you to do anything. If you don't reciprocate my feelings, let's forget about this. Just go on with our daily lives. A simple no, or just a shake of your head, will silence me forever, I won't ever bother you again, I promise. But if there's even just one chance, a little bit of hope that you could give me a try, please don't let me wait for too long. Because how I am to take even one second longer of this I do not know.'

And with this, he stopped talking. He went completely mute, now only waiting for your answer, for a little hope.

But you didn't know what to say, how could after such a speech, such a confession? Anything you would say, even if meaningful, would never compete to something such beautiful and utterly captivating as this.

So you opted for saying exactly that.

'Connor.. I.. I'm really speechless, I don't know what to say, no, everything I would say could never compete with what you just did. I'm so sorry, but I really don't know how to own up to that.' You said with the biggest smile you ever had, which started growing since Connor began to speak.

'No, don't worry about that, just tell me, please. A yes or a no would be sufficient enough.' The poor boy was so stressed, but you couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't you mocking him or anything like that. It was a genuinely happy laugh, like you've never had before. He also started laughing at this, being influenced by you.

'Stop laughing, I'm serious. You're making me sweat cold here.' He said, finally lighting up from his serious stance.

'I'm so sorry, but I just really can't see how you could've become this worked up only because I was singing Last Christmas with some guy. Like, really, from all the songs Last Christmas, that's not even classifiable as a real love song.' At this point, you just couldn't stop laughing, completely captivated, almost not being able to breathe anymore.

'Hey! That's not true. It's one of the greatest love songs ever written. And I'm honestly quite offended you didn't sing it with me, okay. You know how much I love Wham!' Saying this, he also kicked your leg playfully. Finally, the mood was completely lightened up. Now, the interaction being like one of the many you had every day.

'Okay, now on a serious note', you began, and you could see Connor tensing up again, 'yes. And a million times, yes. I really like you, Connor, and I've had probably since I came to this camp. I could even say that I love you too.. but maybe for that, I do need a bit of time. But I do want to give it a try, and more than one if need to. Just don't make anything like that up anymore. Otherwise, I'd just look like a bad girlfriend, okay? I can't even come up with a good speech to convince my dad to let me adopt a cat, even think of confessing my undying love for you. I just think I need a little bit more time than you, but I'll get there eventually, I promise. Just wait until you'll get a Jane Austen type letter under your pillow.' You finally said, as sincere as you could. You were truly so happy, and you think you've never been this happy ever in your life (at least not until your dad would finally cave in and let you get a cat).

Connor, too, was happy. Oh, so happy, he thought he could break out in some type of dance right there and walk up to the sky to get a handful of stars to gift to you. But that was impossible, so he opted to wrap an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

And like that, you stayed for a while, just you two together under the snow looking up at the stars and into the horizon.

'Don't worry, if we ever move in together, we're gonna adopt not one cat, but at least twenty, be sure of that.' He said.

Okayy this is it! I really hope you like this. omg, it came out so much longer than I was expecting. Also im so sorry it took so long to write but I was really busy with school! Also im honestly very happy about the ending. Hope you guys like it!

[sukirichi]

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

[meanqueens]

Saw that ask about Targ stans being gleeful over the fact that Alicent's "line" died out and Rhaenyra's got the throne - and I really find that odd. I mean, there seems to be this perception among them that Alicent's kids are not "Targaryens" but Hightowers. For me, aside from the obvious suffering of the realm and small-folk, the actual tragedy of the dance is that it tore a family apart. Everyone knows the, "A Targaryen alone in the world" line, implying the importance of family. In the very first episode of hotd Daemon talks about how their blood is thick, and Viserys himself talks about the importance of sticking together as a unit. The opening lines of the show were literally that the only thing capable of destroying the Targaryens were they themselves. We see it throughout their history: if they had kept tight as a family, they wouldn't have fallen apart the way they did (Aenys and Maegor, the Blackfyres&Bittersteel, Aerys not being etc...).

Besides, I honestly don't get feeling gleeful over a mother's grief, no matter what. I felt awful for Rhaenyra when her sons died (honestly, I don't know how much she would've enjoyed Aegon and Viserys ruling when she lost Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey). I felt awful for Alicent when she outlived her children and grandchildren (that line about how she wanted to see her sons and Helaena was one of the saddest in the book). And I felt awful for the kids themselves (at least, those who were pulled into the conflict not out of their own volition but because of responsibility toward/association with their family; most of them were so young).

thank you for your ask!!

anon, i think that's an excellent insight on stans implying that alicent and her children are not truly "part of the family", and thusly perceived as outsiders and enemies coming to tear the targs down.

and, frankly, that's objectionably simplifying the situation. that's part of the point, that all of these people were supposed to have some sense of loyalty to each other due to the notion of "family", and yet the chaos of choices drove them apart. this is not to say that just because one is "family" one must unconditionally support them, no no. but there were decisions made by people in power that weren't thought through well enough to consider how it would affect descendants down the line (looking at you, jae/haerys and vi/serys). these decisions laid the pieces in place for everything to go wrong, for people to turn on each other and feel like they had to choose a side (or were too young to fully understand what that meant).

i'm just gonna say it: to boil it down to "alicent started the war/dance" is clearing every other player of responsibility, because no, no it wasn't only her (debatably it wasn't her at all). aegon ii would not have gotten as far as he did if his claim was not arguably legitimate, which it was because he was, undeniably, the son of the former king. he was targ/aryen, as were his siblings, as was his mother a targ/aryen queen. they were valid members of the dynasty, whether they wanted to be or not. "othering" them does such a disservice to the story and removes so many layers.

and even if one doesn't like certain characters over others, it still gives off a sour energy to celebrate the suffering of mothers who were neither good nor bad, just people, and mourn children that didn't deserve what happened to them. it's just horrible and sad, and i can't help but contemplate how different things could have been if it weren't for, bluntly, the patriarchy and the men it empowered.

[gaymershigh]

hello! can I request a hc of the dorm leaders where their s/o kiss them for the first time and run away because they're embarassed/shy? I hope I follow your rules, thank you!

Of course! This might be shorter since I'm going straight to the their reaction because that's all I can think of (Ｔ▽Ｔ) I've finally gained all my energy to do a 5+ character's request but after this I'm gonna go back to focusing 5 or below character request-

Triggers: Vil being RIDICULOUSLY ooc :')

Dorm leaders reacting to their very shy gn! s/o kissing them for the first time and running away

It's obvious you two never kissed before as both parties are too embarrassed to initiate it first. As much as Riddle wanted to give you a smooch to show his affection, he just couldn't as you might not be comfortable about kissing and the only thing he has kissed before was his pillow. He was just too shy and inexperienced to kiss you first as he doesn't want to mess up the magic moment.

When you kissed him and ran away, he was absolutely still as he had no time to process what had just happened. Slowly, his face gets redder as more minutes of him staying still passes. People passed and tried to walk faster as they mistook him getting angrier by the second but in reality, he's just so happy and all blushed at the fact you stole his first kiss when you're the super shy one in the relationship.

He's unsure what to do next, should he chase after you and return the kiss like in that one book that he read in the library out of boredom or wait until you come back as you might also want time to process what you just did as well. He went for the first choice as leaving you hanging at the edge of your seat waiting for his next move is such an improper thing for the Heartslaybyul dorm leader.

He was nervous when you were sitting on a bench at the courtyard, all alone and looking quite antsy. He cleared his throat to approach you directly as walking from behind isn't such a good idea. It was rather for a few seconds as he suddenly forgot what his lines were the moment you two locked eyes. He quickly apologized for the sudden silence as he sat next to you, holding your hand.

"(Y/N), I apologize for not kissing after a long time of dating until you had to initiate it first. Oh, that's not the case? I see but I still feel terrible for not planting a single kiss on your lips before, should I do one now?"

There's no way in hell you two never kissed because if there's no kiss until at least a week after being together, that's not Leona you're dating. He craves the feeling of being loved or having someone to love. Not only that, you being more shy and submissive gives him power and pride, you're his treasure and wants to treat you as one. He doesn't mind that you don't return the kiss back as he's very understanding of how shy you are but of course he teased you about it, hopefully you don't misunderstood him pressuring you to return the favor or something.

When you kissed him for the first time, he was shocked. You actually had the guts to do that!? He knows that one day you will (hopefully) break out of that shell of yours and return the favour but he didn't that scenario that plays on in his head sometimes really coming to life. He managed to recover from the sudden shock and smirked at the thought. You finally did it, you should get a reward by an instant, no? Who cares if you scurried away immediately after you did that, you got him off guard, you deserve a prize.

He was so lost in his own cloud of thought that he almost forgot that you ran away. Unlike the others, he will be like always, lazily going after you by picking up where your lovable scent is. Even had the audacity to yawn halfway walking there while you could be having a breakdown after what you just did. He got sudden thoughts of you freaking out and laughed at himself of how cute that mental mental is, this guy really is something.

When he found you at the botanical garden sitting on the floor, he had no single hesitancy to just call out your name and approach you calmly like your sudden move earlier was just a fever dream. He picked you up from the floor for you to stand up as he cupped your cheek, staring at your eyes with an entertained face.

"You finally got some bravery, Herbivore. You took me by surprise just a little bit and I suppose I'm proud. Now, don't you think you should get a reward?"

Just like Riddle, he's very inexperienced when it comes to love or just having a nice relationship with others besides the Leech twins in general. He would prefer if you kissed first as he's insecure about initiating it first because when it comes to first kisses, aren't they like, very important? Well in his view it is as for what he has read, a first kiss is like an amazing experience that you will only experience once in a lifetime and never again no matter what species you are, it's magical.

And he finally understood what it really meant when you pecked his lips. No matter if it's a full kiss or just a normal quick peck before your sudden flee, it still feels phenomenal. He's very shocked and is aware you're going further away from him but he just didn't do anything. He was just staring at you as you were getting farther and farther as he brushed his lips. Of course, he forces himself to regain his composure as he didn't want to be seen as a foolish lovestruck person in this prestigious campus.

The twins saw what just happened and they were teasing him mad. They can tell that neither of you kissed before until that little performance as his reaction is something a "person who never gets kissed" would do. Since they're in public, he held a lot more power on them and scolded the two for this childish rambling and told them to go back to their work. He knew he had to chase after you, even if he's happy you did the first move, he still felt wrong for making you do it because of his insecurities.

When he found you, he was contemplating whether to go back to his place and leave you alone or not because of how you looked at the moment. You were walking back and forth while looking down, probably having a crisis for doing something so brave out of the blue. He had to drag you somewhere more private as he was aware his face was getting redder again. Even if his words sounded relaxed, you can tell his heart was racing as well.

"Honey, I apologize for making you kiss me first, I really wanted to kiss you as well but I wasn't sure if you were uncomfortable or not. You..you just wanted to kiss me? Because you love me so much?..Really? Ah. I- I see. Very well then, since we're in a more private place, should I…do the same to return my feelings?"

Kalim has kissed you in a lot of places but it was never at the mouth and he never explained why. Maybe he just didn't want to kiss you in the mouth because it's too early in the relationship but then again, it's Kalim, would that really matter to him? He has already kissed your cheek the third day of your relationship so you doubt he really cares about boundaries that much. Well, he wanted to kiss you on the lips badly but Jamil had told him before that the first kiss isn't something so minor like any other kisses he gave to you. It's a more memorable part of the relationship so he should be careful and surprisingly, he obliged to his words, not fully understanding.

But he finally understood them almost completely when you leaned in for the kiss. He was shocked and his heart was fluttering no matter how fast the kiss was. Jamil was right, it was very magical and a memorable moment, it's like one of those fairy tales, he happily thought to himself. Though, he pouted at the fact that it was just a small kiss and his neck kisses lasted longer than that. He actually didn't have a tangent and told you to wait a minute but you probably didn't hear it as you were already away from him.

He took longer than everyone else when it comes to catching up with you as he completely forgot where you head off to due to his lack of capability to remember a lot of things at the same time but it doesn't matter as he tried his hardest to follow you by the help of random students and such just sudden remembrance. He was calling out your name but he didn't hear any response, something told him that you didn't want to talk and avoiding him so calling won't help. Even if you want some alone time, he wants to see you as much as possible because he loves you that much.

When he found you, he practically ran and flung himself into your arms, giggling like a child that got a big toy as a birthday present and a child that got some sweets combined. He was throwing dozens of compliments of how brave you are for kissing him first and how happy he is if it wasn't so obvious. Now that you finally kissed him on the lips he can now do the same anytime he wants, right!?

"Ya qamar! You did it, you finally kissed me! On the lips too! Why did you run away from me earlier, you did a good job! Can I kiss you back now? Can I?"

Vil has mostly kissed you a lot since he's very experienced with it but it's not as much as we thought it would be. He of course only kisses you in private areas as he doesn't want to spark any type of controversy even if he didn't keep your relationship hidden from the media, which he did as his fans and the mainstream media in general were probably not ready yet for the shock. He gets a little bit upset that you haven't returned any of the favor but won't talk to you about it as he thinks that you're insecure about getting caught or something similar to that.

That's why he was so bugged eyed when you kissed his luscious lips. He looked at you with so much sparkles, his affections were finally returned after so long and he doesn't even mind that you flee right after. He slowly and meekly mumbled out your name as he watched you scurry off into the distance. He had a bunch of relationships before and they only have returned his compliments, not his physical love. He felt like crying right there on the spot but didn't for the sake of his reputation even though nobody is there to see.

He called for Rook's to find your whereabouts as he knew what Rook is capable of. Rook obliged with full passion as he ran and found you as fast as an arrow. As he wanted to run, it's very improper for the Pomefiore dorm leader to do so the best he could've done is speed walk. Thankfully, nobody is foolish enough to not leave a walkway as they saw him in a hurry. He was eager to see you despite his straight expression.

When he found you, he called out your name in the usual but still loving tone as what he usually does as he always pours his feelings on you. He puts one of his hands on your shoulder and the other to lift your chin to see his face. His expression screams "I love you" and his tone was incredibly soft-spoken. If any passerby sees this, they're lucky enough to see this rare expression and not get caught as all his attention was on you.

"Darling, I know this is unsuitable for me to act like this while in public areas but I couldn't help but feel very happy when you finally kissed me on the lips. I'm sure you love me but you doing that makes me no longer need to doubt your feelings for me. Now, let's go somewhere more private. I want to pour my feelings on you as well."

If you expect Idia to kiss or even know how to kiss, you're weird. The only things he had ever kissed in his life are his bodypillows, plushies, figures, posters and even embarrassingly his own computer screen when his favorite character said something very nice to him. He doesn't even blame you that you have never kissed him at all because 1)He's a loser 2)Who on Twisted Wonderland in their right mind would kiss this guy out of everyone else?! Both you and Eliza apparently but come on. Yeah, he's aware that you two are in a relationship but please, he can't even smile without scaring the children how would a kiss be better?

When you kiss him, his eyes were so shocked and he did that pose where he puts his clenched fists to his chest in fear and shock. My guy took around 10 minutes to process this and it's not even himself who got him back to reality, it was Cater and Kalim. When his cloud of thought disappeared and looked at the two of them very slowly, he sprinted out of there just like you did but to his room. He shut his door tight and hopped on his bed, covering and screaming in the pillows.

Ortho, who is very concerned as to why his brother is having a spasm on his bed, kept scanning Idia and asking what's wrong. Idia trusts his little brother and spoke to him the entire situation and doesn't know whether to chase you as seeing you again after that is just embarrassing and he doesn't know what to do nor say! The robot kept convincing him to chase you but knowing Idia, once Idia made his mind, it will be almost impossible to change it no matter who you are.

Ortho took this into his own hands and tried to follow you without his brother's knowledge but he knew he wouldn't mind. When he found you, he apologized for his brother not attending and he had to be the replacement.

"(Y/N)! I'm sorry that big brother couldn't make it but I'm just telling you so that you wouldn't get the wrong idea. He likes it but is just too shy to confront you! Follow me, you should come see him in his room!"

Malleus has placed his kisses on you multiple times before but just like Vil, nobody knows about this except the Diasomnia dorm. Nobody is foolish or unloyal to the great Malleus and he knows that so he shouldn't be doubting about telling them about this valuable information. He keeps this lowkey because he knows how much fairies look down on humans, especially non magical ones. Even if you have magic or not, human or a beast, it's still risky if you're telling your relationship if you're from a noble family so he understands why you don't kiss back, just ignore his pouts.

When you do kiss him, his eyes went wide but not for that long, he's not that experienced in feeling loved romantically but he's not gonna die from that kiss. He smirked and chuckled in amusement, you're so brave. Even if you're his lover and just ran away, he still finds it interesting as his past lovers were too scared to hug him first. He shook his head at the sight of you trying to run away.

There's no point in running as you bumped into him while you're running to God knows where. He teleported to your whereabouts, how does he know your exact location you ask? Who knows, probably some fae stuff but that's not the point. He took you into a very secluded area. The forest, to be exact and at the very deep parts too. He stopped and looked at you with an amused expression.

"You kissed and your next move was to run away? Hahah! You're very funny, dear. You must be wondering as to why I'm taking you to these dark parts of the woods but fear not, as I'm not going to punish you or anything of the sort. Instead, I'm going to give you a kiss as well and we have no need to worry about getting caught into the act."

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part III)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I and Part II, here’s Part III.

CLAIM 5 #: Merlin thinks fighting is meaningless violence

Merlin certainly claimed it-- but his actions told a different story. 

It took me a long time to understand that Merlin was in fact very similar to Arthur. This realisation came while rewatching episodes 5x03 and 5x04 in particular; in the latter episode, Merlin admitted to Arthur that if someone had murdered his father, he would probably have sought vengeance. Yet we know that Merlin hated vengeance, and that he had physically intervened to stop Arthur from yielding to said vengeance. 

This led me to see how Arthur and Merlin’s friendship became a coping mechanism to deal with the loss of their respective family (literally and figuratively).  

One key way that Merlin is similar to Arthur is that he, too, pretends not to like something in public, while his actions speak differently. 

Hence why Merlin loved claiming that fighting was pointless, that it was just “sweaty men knocking the sense out of each other” (episode 4x09), and appeared not to enjoy training sessions. Episode 1x02 had a hilarious and undoubtedly genuine example of Merlin abhorring the art of war, as he struggled to hold his weaponry, tripped, tumbled, and probably ended up with tinnitus! “D’you you hear clanging?”

I used to think this change occurred much later, but episode 1x02 showed Merlin eagerly watching the tournament just one day after he complained about having to learn more fighting techniques and about being Arthur’s servant. 

Also, after being pilloried for being clumsy with Arthur’s armour, the first thing Merlin did was to seek Gwen’s assistance. Look how proud he was later, when he put everything on correctly. “That was much better,” Arthur said, to which Merlin responded, “I’m a fast learner.” 

This suggests that, being a resourceful person who lands on his feet, Merlin quickly realised that he would have to learn about warfare if he was to make his way in Camelot. 

I already have a lengthy post proving that Merlin had excellent capabilities in battle, and that Arthur had potentially trained him better than his knights. See the link below this post. 

However, the greatest evidence that Merlin respected the art of war was his insistence that Arthur stand up and fight to reclaim Camelot. This occurred chiefly in episode 3x13, when Arthur was discouraged by Morgana’s treachery, and in episode 4x13, when Arthur completely lost hope and abdicated the throne. 

In both episodes, Merlin helped take back Camelot not only using magic, but also with the sword. Notice that in episode 3x13, Sir Lancelot never questioned Merlin’s ability with a sword. Instead, he was impressed by its powers. As far as Lancelot was concerned, Merlin was “the one Arthur should knight. You’re the bravest of us all and he doesn’t even know it.” So Lancelot knew that Merlin was a capable fighter, and would embody the noble warrior so admired in Camelot. 

Ironically, Lancelot did not live to see Merlin dressed as a knight in 4x05 during the mission to trap King Caerleon. 

Of course, we have an example from Merlin’s own mouth: “You’re a great warrior,” he said to Arthur in episode 1x13. In episode 3x01, he was impressed by Arthur fighting blindfolded against two opponents, though he quickly tried pretending that he had “seen better”. In episode 3x04, he laughed at Dagr’s threats against Arthur: “I’d like to see you try!” Then he tried persuading Gwaine to stay in Camelot on the basis that, “You and Arthur: you fought well together.” During that episode, Merlin was impressed by Gwaine’s fighting before and during the mêlée. 

In episode 5x05, he watched Arthur duelling against Mordred unarmed, then stood up to applaud the king. We can safely assume this occurred many times, since Merlin attends all training sessions and is responsible for maintaining all of Arthur’s armour. Many scenes, such as in episodes 4x05, 4x09, and 5x03, show him either polishing or putting on Arthur’s armour. 

So why all of Merlin’s dismissive comments? For one thing, he didn’t like the braggadocio and arrogance of many knights-- or those who would wish to be knights. Hence why he called Valiant a “creep” in episode 1x02, much to Arthur’s amusement. Secondly, he did not see the point of certain tournaments, such as that of episode 3x11. It didn’t help that Arthur said, “The only rule is: there are no rules.” Thirdly, the death toll alarmed him. “Cause last time this tournament was held, three men died... That was just on the first day.” (Also episode 3x11.) 

Another reason that hit me while rereading this: Merlin wasn’t naturally good at fighting. Remember that Arthur said, “I’ve been trained to kill since birth.” (Episode 1x01) This suggests some natural talent on his part, though greatly improved with hard work. Meanwhile, Merlin not only fumbled with weaponry, but faced merciless teasing from Arthur about his lack of skill. To compensate for his feelings of incompetence, Merlin linked Arthur’s fighting prowess to his arrogance: “How long have you been training to be a prat?” (Episode 1x01) 

While he had a good point, it was also a way to dismiss his inexperience with fighting and other facts of life. We have to remember that he came from a tiny, poor village. Camelot could have been another planet. 

Despite all this, when it came to watching Arthur train, watching Arthur train his knights, and, most importantly, fighting to defend Camelot, Merlin had nothing but respect for the art of war. 

CLAIM #6: Arthur (mostly/always) needed Merlin to make big decisions

Untrue, as the following examples will demonstrate.

By the way, Merlin helped fuel this idea that his decisions were necessary for Arthur’s rule. In episode 4x11, he asked Gaius whether he should do anything to cause Arthur and Gwen’s reconciliation. Gaius rightly asked, “You don’t think that’s a little arrogant?” 

In episode 3x07, Arthur decided to rescue Gwen’s brother-- a complete stranger-- from the Castle of Fyrien. Just one episode later, he succeeded at the majority of his quest in the Perilous Lands despite being enchanted to lose his energy. Needless to say, the choice of retrieving the trident of the Fisher King was Arthur’s alone, made after a night of contemplation. 

Another great example comes from episode 4x05, where Arthur repented of his wrongdoing to Caerleon and his kingdom, and refused to make his men risk their lives on his account. He then took matters into his own hands, pleading with Queen Annis to invoke the right of single combat. 

In episode 4x06, Arthur only told a few people that he was riding through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Merlin wasn’t one of those people, hence why he said, “Arthur. You are not serious...Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Nobody in their right mind would go in there.” 

How come Merlin didn’t know? Arthur said, “The routes are secret, Merlin: that’s why *we* chose it.” Emphasis my own. Later, we discover that Arthur had discussed this with his council, a select number of knights, and Agravaine. 

My favourite example comes from episode 4x11. Arthur negotiated with a longstanding rival, Nemeth, over the status of the lands of Gedref. We cannot underestimate that achievement. Arthur said that the lands have “long been in dispute”, and when he announced the end of their negotiations, the knights looked extremely nervous. Arthur had to allay their fears by calling it a “fair and honourable agreement”. That may have been a polite way of saying that they had avoided humiliating sacrifices and war. 

On top of that, Arthur sealed the treaty by securing an engagement to the Princess of Nemeth-- exactly the kind of political savvy that his father had encouraged. “Your marriage should have been used to form an alliance with another kingdom…” (Episode 5x03.)

The first thing Merlin said was, “How come I didn’t know any of this? How come you didn’t say anything?” I will not go into why Merlin’s reaction here was presumptuous and arrogant, but we can see that Arthur deliberately kept this information from Merlin to avoid disagreement and argument. 

Of course, the great episodes 5x01 and 5x02 show Arthur risking everything to save his men “or die trying”, because to do otherwise would be to sacrifice his beliefs. In episode 5x04, Arthur decided to rescue King Rodor from King Odin, in spite of the immense danger and the holes in Princess Mithian’s story. In episode 5x05, he decided to beg the Disir for Mordred’s life, because he did not want another innocent man dying on his behalf. 

And so on. 

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART IV

More on Merlin’s fighting skills

[ofmythsandmadness]

don’t leave so fast | d.h

You don’t always have the chance to have him to yourself. But you still want more. (or, post s2!diego has a hair kink. but make it subtle & intimate.)  WORD COUNT: 1.3k  WARNINGS: i don’t think there’s anything bad. feel free to correct me.  A/N: This is a gender!neutral fic, as usual. This is the only productive thing I’ve done today and it feels stupid but eh. In the state of pain I’m in, I guess that’s something I’m going to have to live with. I don’t know how to title or label this mess, I haven’t even read through this (if it’s bad, I’m sorry, I cannot concentrate on literally anything).

IT’S RARE THAT YOU GET A MOMENT ALONE. Much less an entire night. You half expect the next blink to reveal that it’s all a dream and that somewhere out there, cold and alone is your boyfriend. That the soft sounds of the television program you’re half-watching will swing to instead the harsh whistling of wind and honking cars beneath your apartment that always keep you up at night.

You let your eyes shut for a second. When you open them, your hands still and you glance around the tiny living room just to make sure this isn’t some elaborate dream sequence. That he’s still there.

“Baby? You okay?”

He must have realised the fingers you had been tugging through his long locks had stopped and taken that as a bad thing. His head perks in your lap; for a moment, you catch the soft honey brown of his eyes peering up at you, trying to reassure himself that you’re okay.

Your heart aches, at that.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, and resume your soft work. “Just lost in thought.”

He settles back against your legs. One of his hands drapes lazily against the couch but the other’s found itself cradling your right thigh. He squeezes gently, making you squirm. “Good, or bad kinda lost?”

You hum, absent-mindedly twisting a strand of almost-black around your index. There really isn’t a right answer there. You don’t want to interrupt the moment and tell him how bittersweet it all feels, knowing this kind of night probably won’t happen again, but lying is a tricky battle to win against Diego. He always likes to joke the one thing he picked up from the Academy was the ability to read a person -- and he might be kidding, but you’re not when you think he could see right through you, twenty-four-seven.

“Babe?”

Your fingers pause again, before picking right back up. “Sorry. I...I was just thinking about your hair.”

He adjusts again, staring up at you at an awkward half-turned angle that’s almost funny. His lips pucker, then fall lax again. You wonder if you reach down far enough, if you could kiss them. “My hair?”

“Yeah. You know...I know you said you want to cut it, but I like it.” A gentle smile pulls; you let it sweep the uneasy frown once worn back under the rug. “It’s soft. I like playing with it.”

“Oh, well in that case…”

You chuckle, patting the sides of his face as he turns. “I know, I know you have your reasons -- but it’s just been so long since I’ve had someone’s hair to braid. N’doing your own hair isn’t nearly as fun as playing with others.”

Diego contemplates your half-joke, half confession with more thought than you expected. “Huh.”

“But, of course, if you wanna cut it--”

“--it does feel nice.”

You stiffen. Your hands fall from his hair as he half-lifts from your lap; his body hovers in the most awkward angle right in front of you, but neither you nor him notice.

“Yeah?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, and a bashful grin threatens to poke through. “I-I mean, it feels nice enough. Relaxing.”

He’s pretty then. He’s always pretty, but he’s a painting as he watches your face twist up in thought; the television’s flashing lights illuminates his cheeks, his skin lighting up into a million different shades of colour in a way that makes you wish you could kiss every centimetre of it and tell him how it tastes. His eyes wash with emotion and look almost wet -- whether that be the shadows or his own unshed tears, you cannot tell.

He presses forward and his forehead comes to rest against yours. Slowly, his slender fingers interlace with your own, moving them up to his lips. You shiver as he kisses your tips.

“You’re a wonder, y’know that?”

“D’aw,” you scoff, but it comes out breathless and shaky as he kisses down your hands. “Baby...it’s really nothing.”

“I don’t just mean the hair.”

You fall silent as he works against your skin. Soft kisses press into your wrists, your elbows, up your arms and they fall like butterflies against the available skin around your shoulder. His hands fall from yours so he can press against your waist, holding him closer to you. He still cranes his neck in the awkward position he sits in, but somehow he manages to nuzzle your collarbones, up your neck, taking his fluttery pecks up until he reaches your jaw.

“Baby…”

He smiles against your chin; you feel his expression shift and vibrate slightly like he’s holding back a laugh. He kisses your cheeks, lingering on the blushing apples before kissing up your nose to your forehead, then down before his just parted lips rest above your own.

It’s a cliche you as a couple has never experienced. Hell, you’ve barely ever had a quiet moment -- your relationship is built off flashes of romance and intimacy you have to hold onto for hours after he’s gone, wondering when the next good moment will come. He usually kisses fast and rough and never with the delicacy of a painter, addressing the last final touches of his newest masterpiece.

Your breath comes stuttered, soft as he pulls you in. His nose brushes against yours; you almost squeak, somehow unsure about what the hell’s gonna come next.

He smiles wider, huffing the slightest hint of a laugh again. It’s a beautiful sound; you wish you had the capabilities to frame it and hold it forever against your skin. “You want me to keep my hair long?”

“S-yeah,” you mutter back. “If you - if you do.”

“Will you,” he hesitates then, and a shadow of nervousness flashes against his skin before he continues, “will you play with it? Like you are, or did?”

The smile that overtakes your face is like a forest fire; it floods your senses, leaving your mind in overdrive as you fold against his skin. You wonder if the flames licking up your limbs burn him too, but the thought dies just as you lift your hands to his hair, tugging lightly at the lowest locks just at the nape of his neck.

“Like this?” you wonder, barely brushing your lips against his. “Or -- like this?” Your hands fold into his hair, running across his scalp and everywhere you can touch before --

-- you’re both a tangle of limbs and smiles as he pushes you down into the couch, your hands still tangled up in his glorious mess of grown out tresses. His lips graze once before swooping in, taking you with a deep, hot kiss that makes your toes curl. But there’s more as he licks at your bottom lip, making you moan as he drives deeper into your mouth and his hands crush into your waist. There’s more than just desire, then the feeling of need that usually leaves both of your feeling empty and lonelier than before.

“Just like that, baby,” he moans softly, and he cannot hide the smile that you embrace, kissing you with a warmth you’ve never felt from him before. Not in that way. He’s clumsy as he plunges down again but you take him anyways, giggling as his tongue snakes across your bottom lip and his teeth follow. He’s slow with his motions, slow from moving from just kissing you, he’s savoring every second that he gets to touch you and that, that is what gets you the most.

You marvel at the fact that you even have this. That any of this is happening, that he’s yours, holding your waist to him and pressing kisses into your jaw that make you shiver and cling tighter.

But there’s time for this intimacy between you, for that feeling of love that spills from his lips and soak through your own. Maybe there’ll be more times like this, too.

REMEMBER...if you liked this, please like, reblog, let me know what you thought. follow, if you feel like it; i do from time to time, remember how to string words together and post stuff like this (generally for tua, but can do for other fandoms too). check out my kofi in my bio if you feel generous! x

[filmwuju]

[TRANS] Character Introduction: People around Seongyeom & Mijoo

Ki Jeongdo | Yook Jiwoo | Ki Eunbi | Kim Wooshik | Kwon Young-il | Kim Hyunjin | Park May

Ki Jeongdo (Male, late 50s) Seongyeom's father / Four-term assemblyman

A politician who was an athlete. Back then, he was renowned as the nation's thief for snatching actress Yook Jiwoo, who was the nation's first love, at the prime of her youth. Rising to fame, he threw his hat into the political ring, as if he was waiting for this. Him moving into his wife's family home as a live-in son-in-law was also for the campaign fund.

Managing a family that can be recognized by citizens during elections was also Jeongdo's long time plan. As a man, Jiwoo was his trophy; and being the father of siblings who are national athletes, he was able to bear national sentiment. Seongyeom's home becoming a show window family was entirely Jeongdo's volition. Family means gathering together when needed and taking a harmonious photo, that's it. Just one is hard enough already, how incredible is it to raise two national representatives of South Korea? He regards fatherly love as an instinct, and thinks what he's doing to his children is true love. Not knowing that for the person receiving the unwanted love, that love can become violence.

He has always been privileged with vested rights, and since he's in the upper class, he always lived with pride. He has never doubted his capability of going higher, higher up. Most politicians are likewise, their final goal is running for the presidential election. And since they're running, naturally, they want to win. But Seongyeom, who used to be an obedient chess piece, keeps causing trouble. So he's contemplating on how to quash him.

Yook Jiwoo (Female, late 50s) Seongyeom's mother / Actress

A top actress hailed as the nation's first love. If there's Suzy in the 2000s, there was Yook Jiwoo in the 1980s. During the early days of her career, she went by the stage name Jiwoo, without the Yook, because her last name comes off as stubborn. This was her agency's policy. Later, Jiwoo saw her name on a movie poster and threw a huge fit. Since then, she goes by her full name that sounds stubborn for a "female" actor.

She's a perfect actress named as the Queen of Cannes; but she's a born actress who, in pursuit of her career, is far from even the letter M in the word "mother", much less be an excellent one.

Ki Eunbi (Female, 30) Seongyeom's sister / Pro golfer

She doesn't know how to love in an ordinary way, because she's never lived an ordinary life. The world's number one female golfer. With that title alone,  men—regardless of their skin color—approached her, not knowing how Eunbi is like after falling in love. There are no exceptions—whether they have a strong build, or got a straightforward personality. By the time they realize how scary Ki Eunbi is not as the queen of golf, but as a lover, it's already too late—so accept your fate. Once she takes a bite, she does not let go until she gets sick of it. There's no place to escape unless you go to the edge of the world.

Of course there's an exception. When their love for her dies down, she lets go without hesitation. It was always easier to figure out separation than love. The same goes for her family. The time she spent with them in her whole life wouldn't amount to even one year because of her trips abroad. They always separated the moment they met, and she felt worried at the thought of Seongyeom, who would be alone in the huge house. My poor little brother. Their father, who likes to rank, compares them frequently; the media, who likes to chatter, bashes him regularly. My little brother Seongyeom. Seongyeom, whose sin is getting born as my little brother.

Of course she worked hard, but Eunbi's talent played a bigger part. Her sense of distance is more outstanding than others, and she's exceptional in controlling her strength. They said the only thing left for a first placer to do is to fall downwards, but Eunbi didn't know how to fall. If she didn't have talent, would it be a different story? While having these thoughts, she saw Seongyeom and thought, hmm.. it would be stressful to have no talent.

She's even sick of the first place now. Feeling bored, she was thinking whether she should retire and rest a bit, but her beloved little brother caused big trouble. What can I do? My little brother wants to do it. It's an older sister's duty to act as his shield, and I won't die from doing it for a few years more—so just for a bit longer, I'd have to stay in the first place for him.

Kim Wooshik (Male, 20) National track and field athlete

He lost his parents at a young age and was raised by his grandmother. Unlike someone his age, he believes in superstitions. But rather than saying he believes in them, it's more like he's familiar about life and is treated as a precocious child. His self-sufficient grandmother clothed him in cleanly washed clothes even though they're old, and did everything she can so that Wooshik can grow up as a bright and optimistic person. Wooshik, who grew up just like how she raised him to be, was perfectly kind and honest. He wasn't good at studying but he was smart; his hands were slow but his feet were fast. Naturally, Wooshik chose track and field. It was also a sport that he could do even with no money. He fell in love at first sight after watching Seongyeom's race, ran all the way with Seongyeom as his goal, and became a national athlete. It's his wish to run a relay race in the same competition with Seongyeom before the latter retires. No records or competition, just as Ki Seongyeom and Kim Wooshik.

He once saw a passage that said forgiveness is the biggest revenge. That's like saying the powerless can't do anything but to forgive. Ever since his days in  sports high school, he experienced countless assaults and abuse under the force of power. And you say that's the biggest revenge? It was a day when he got beaten by his seniors as usual. He roughly wiped the blood from his nose using his sleeves. The superstitions Wooshik believed in were of no help at all in the face of reality. The one who offered Wooshik practical help was Seongyeom. He told him that forgiving is the victim's right. He told him that he doesn't need to forgive if he doesn't want to. As the only person who told him that, how could Wooshik not admire him.

Kwon Young-il (Male, 29) National track and field athlete

South Korea's track and field record holder. As the best sprinter, he lives up to his reputation of South Korea's No.1 track and field athlete who receives unconditional support from track and field fans. He's a narcissist who cares about nothing but himself, but takes an interest only in Seongyeom. It's because he's jealous.  Whenever he's free, he picks a quarrel with the forever runner-up Seongyeom and ends up saying foolish words. I'm the real first placer, but why does it feel like I'm being pushed back by Ki Seongyeom every single time?

But still, as Seongyeom's long-time colleague, and as a sportsman, he's a friend who supports Seongyeom for the path he's going.

Kim Hyunjin (Male, early 40s) Assemblyman Ki Jeongdo's aide

Would there be another expression that puts a limit on Hyunjin as much as the phrase "aide by nature" does? However, he is a capable aide—to the level that everyone would agree in unison—who grasps everything about the Ki family, including Assemblyman Ki himself. He's machine-like, making one wonder if his heart is made of steel; he does not feel things like conscience and warmth.

Park May (Female, 35) CEO of imported film distributor May

Her name was originally Maehwi. Was it her dad's poor hearing, or her mom's poor pronunciation? Her dad, who heard Maehwi as May, registered her birth with the name "May". For a long time, her mom called her Maehwi and her dad called her May. To May, the actual party concerned, it didn't matter whatever they called her by. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

May believed in fundamental things. This was also due to her peaceful and cool nature; is it because of that? Entering a translation and interpreting university at the top of her class and finishing her studies in a graduate school of the same expertise, she was walking the so-called elite course. But then she set aside her career path and went into foreign film translation. The reason was simple. Because films are fun, but film festivals are freaking fun. She was in Busan when she first met Mijoo. At the Busan International Film Festival, which she skipped her class for, their sharing of the same bed at the guesthouse was the beginning of their relationship. After getting to know her, she found out that she's a distant junior of hers under the same department in their university. Mijoo was 21.

There is no bad Mijoo in this world. This is the pet theory of May as the dog owner of Mijoo. Mijoo—rough and clumsy, which makes her cute and pure too—was like a dog sometimes, she had no hesitations in baring her claws at arrogant things. From then on, May took it upon herself to be the dog owner. She was worried. If Mijoo meets a good person, it feels like she'd overcome her struggles and become extremely successful*, and if she meets a bad person, it feels like she'd get stabbed with a knife in the midst of selling drugs in a backstreet. All or nothing—Mijoo, who has no in between, didn't have a lot of things. She said she's never met a nice adult in her 20 years of life. Ah... I'm stuck. No choice, I'd have to be the nice adult for Mijoo, she decided**. Just like that, she spent around 10 years of time with her, as a senior and roommate.

She had more curiosity and energy before compared to now, but she feels no excitement nor interest in whatever she does these days. When she was young, she simply felt that her older seniors were cool, but now that she's at that age, she understood. There's just no fun in doing anything. She's done them all, tasted them all; the energy she used to pour out without reservation had been exhausted since long time ago.

Around that period of ennui in her life, an unsavory incident broke out in the translation industry she's been working in. She left translation behind and set up an imported film distributing company. As a small company that mainly imported independent films and art films, it involved a lot of legwork, so business trips is a norm. Her dream was to be a salaried employee for a lifetime, but why'd she become a CEO? CEOs like salaries too.. she didn't know of this fact until she became one herself. Is this, depressing? May, who was mentally healthy, immediately began her visits to the psychiatrist. Antidepressants help people who help themselves, and May wants to help herself properly. And since she's on it already, it's better to be bright and healthy.

T/N: * The idiom used in the original text is 개천에서 용 난다, which literally means "a dragon rises up from a creek." Often translated as "rags to riches," it is used to refer to someone from a humble background who overcame their hardships and became extremely successful.

** A longer translation that would more properly express the nuance of the original sentence would be:  May decided that: I'm not the best choice, but since there's no one else to do it, there's no choice but for me, at least, to be the good adult for Mijoo.

(orig post link from writer Park Shihyun’s DC gallery post)

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Yesterdays Sadness Saved For Today

AU: Ghosts Au

Words: 1726

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Shisui

Warnings: Minor Character Death

Summary: Kakashi tries to escape the village for a while, desperate to get away from all of the ghosts that litter the streets. Unfortunately, the spot he chose to hideaway has a surprise for him.

Made with lots of help from @sakura-rpblog

@itachi-uchiha-deserved-better @uchihashisui-kun it's pretty heaving Itachi and Shisui focused, so I thought maybe you two might like XD

Dark clouds hung over the village.

Not the kind that would pour rain on top of the villager's heads and flood the streets. Force people to run for cover inside of shops or under trees. Those were avoidable.

No, these clouds were the ones created by overwhelming sadness. The ones that would hover over the village until people had time to mourn. To say their goodbyes and stuff their pain away deep down inside of their hearts so that they could move forward.

Forget about what had hurt them so much.

The village was still healing from the attack, and the ghosts who hadn’t made it home littered the streets. Shinobi from the leaf, sand, and Sound all sharing the same streets where their bodies had fallen. Some were searching out the people they left behind, others just standing there wondering why it was Konoha they were stuck in or why they hadn’t moved on.

It was too much for Kakashi to handle today. He needed to escape. To get somewhere where he didn’t have to see any more ghosts, just for a little bit.

So he went to the Naka. A quiet place to hide away and read his book. Maybe he’d even be able to forget about all of those wondering, lost spirits that littered the streets of Konoha. The people that no one else could see.

Finding a nice spot under one of the trees a bit closer to the cliff’s ledge, he settled himself in and pulled out his book. Ready to waste the day away and forget about that crushing sadness that loomed over the village.

“I wonder what you’re reading,” Jumping up from his spot, Kakashi turned to face whoever had decided to intrude on his peaceful getaway, his face immediately losing all color as soon as he saw who was standing there. “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean- wait, can you see me?”

Uchiha Shisui.

A man who had died years ago, leaving behind no body or trace of what had even happened to him, now standing in front of Kakashi staring at him with wide empty eye sockets, blood running down his face.

The weirdest thing about the whole situation was he was still smiling. A bright, toothy grin, full of excitement and energy.

“You can see me!” He threw his arms up into the air in celebration. “I never thought….Itachi always acted like I wasn’t here…”

This is not how Kakashi had imagined his day going when he had made the decision to head to the Naka. Clearly, there were things he didn’t know about the area.

“Hey,” Shisui took a step forward and waved a hand in front of Kakashi’s face, acting as if he could see the other man even though there were no eyes inside of his skull. “You alright? You haven’t said anything at all.”

What was he supposed to say? Were there even any words that fit into this situation? Anything that wouldn’t make him feel like he had officially lost his mind?

“You-how…” that was definitely not it. Now he just sounded like an idiot.

“Well, I suppose that’s a bit hard to explain,” Shisui straightened his back and brought a finger up to rest against his chin. “I don’t really know why I’m here, or how. It’s all a little confusing and no one ever bothered to explain it to me. I just...I died, and then I was here.”

A familiar explanation.

Every ghost he had spoken to had said the same thing, and none of them left until whatever it was tying them to this world was solved. Whether it was a loved one being able to move on, or someone being forced to pay for what they had done to them.

It varied from person to person, and he didn’t have enough information about Shisui’s death to know what was holding him to this spot.

“Where’s Itachi?” The question caught him off guard. Staring at the other man, he watched as that bright happy smile slowly turned sad. A more haunted, hurt look taking over Shisui’s face. “I haven’t heard from him in a long time. He used to visit a lot but then he just...stopped.”

Did he explain the situation?

Tell Shisui what had happened to his clan? How Itachi had slaughtered all of them, taking their lives one by one until the only ones left were himself and Sasuke.

Was that the death he wanted to grant Shisui? The eternal knowledge that Itachi was the reason the Uchiha clan was no more?

“Hey,” Shisui called out to him, forcing him out of his thoughts. “You’re not answering my question. Is everything alright? Is Itachi...”

Opening his mouth, Kakashi tried desperately to come up with something to say. Perhaps a lie that Itachi was just busier than usual, or a promise that Itachi would come to visit again. He’d make sure of it.

He couldn’t though.

He refused to be the one to give Shisui hope.

“He went through with it, didn’t he?” The words sound so broken when Shisui speaks again, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I tried to talk to him. To tell him that he didn’t have to. That he shouldn’t listen to Danzo. But no matter how hard I tried, or how loud I yelled, he never heard me.”

It sounded to him like Shisui knew more about the situation than even he did. Which made sense in a way. Kakashi had tried to get through to the younger shinobi, but he was a living breathing person. Capable of trying to put a stop to whatever it was Itachi had planned.

Shisui was dead.

Incapable of doing anything. Just a memory for Itachi to visit and vent to. Itachi probably had no idea he was even there listening to his words. If he did, Kakashi couldn’t imagine him being so open. Holding the weight of Shisui’s judgment on his shoulders.

“How long?”

“Five years,” a statement of fact with no emotion in it, even though there was a deep sense of sadness that had settled inside of his soul years ago over the events. “I tried...I wanted to help him but-”

Shisui held up a hand to silence him.

“It’s not your fault,” words he had tried so desperately to believe over the years, but never could. Itachi was his responsibility. His teammate. “The only people to blame here are Danzo and me.”

Danzo.

That was the second time Shisui had mentioned the village elder. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, could it?

He wanted an explanation. Anything that would help him to understand why Itachi had done it. “What happened?” he asked, terrified of the answer that he was so desperate to hear. “Why did he...I don’t understand.”

For years he had tried to come up with a reason.

To understand why Itachi had done it. Why he had thought it was the only course of action when he had tried so hard to get through to the younger shinobi. To help him out when he seemed so troubled by everything happening.

But Itachi was a living breathing person, capable of making his own decisions as he saw fit. No matter how much Kakashi wished he had just opened up to him and allowed him to help in some way, he had chosen not to.

Based on what Shisui was saying, though, that may have been a choice made by someone else. Someone playing god and using Itachi as their pawn.

“Itachi was stuck in a hard place,” Shisui answered after a moment of contemplation. “Fugaku-Sama wanted him to use his position in Anbu to gather information for the coup, while Danzo wanted to use him to take care of the problem he believed our clan to be.”

Kakashi wants to scold himself for not figuring it out sooner. It should have been obvious to him that Danzo had his hand in the events of the massacre. He had seen what the man was capable of doing to get what he wanted. After all, this was the same man who had sent Tenzo to kill him so that he could have his Sharingan.

If he was willing to kill a loyal leaf shinobi, he’d have no qualms massacring a clan that was planning a coup against the village. But of course, he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. He needed a pawn, and apparently, Itachi had been the perfect one to use.

“I wish that he could have heard me,” Shisui sighed. “That I could have helped…”

“Itachi chose his path,” Kakashi whispered, hoping to give Shisui at least some release from his sorrow. Maybe if he was able to forgive himself, he’d move on. Find his peace and take his peace in the afterlife. “You hold no responsibility for what happened, Shisui.”

“Perhaps,” making his way past Kakashi, Shisui came up to the cliff’s edge and stared down at the water below. “Maybe if I had survived, things could have been different.”

Reaching out towards the man, Kakashi found himself wishing for once that he could actually touch a ghost’s shoulder. Maybe it would help reassure Shisui a bit better.

He’d never know. As always his hand simply went through the spirit’s body. A stark reminder that he wasn’t interacting with someone of this world any longer.

“I’ll just have to wait,’ Turning his head, Shisui smiled once more at Kakashi. “When he’s ready, he’ll find me here. I know he will.”

A smart man would take the opening that Shisui had given them and run. Find themselves a new place to hide away and escape the sorrow that littered Konoha everywhere they went.

Kakashi was a genius, but he was not a smart man.

Making his way to the edge of the cliff, he carefully took a seat beside Shisui and stared out to the horizon. That dark cloud he had been trying so desperately to escape only growing as he listened to Shisui starting to hum beside him.

There was no guarantee that Itachi would show up anytime soon, if ever.

So for as long as he could, Kakashi would keep Shisui company.

It was the least he could do. Even if Shisui never found his peace at least he wouldn’t have to be alone.

[solynaceawrites]

End of Sanctuary

Fandom: Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins           Characters: Mael, Meliodas Tags: Post-Canon, Character Study, Canon Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort written for @nntzine​​ Summary: After the defeat of the Demon King, Mael returns to the only home he knows and engages in a festival to honor the ones who were lost.Originally written for Nanatsu no Taizine: Volume II and published in celebration of autumn.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The sun is low in the sky when he reaches his home. Former home, he supposes, landing lightly in what was once the grand courtyard: the immaculate marble has cracked and fallen, the flowers overgrown by thistles and weeds. Mael tilts his head back, taking in the ruins of the spires of the Supreme Deity’s palace, listening to the wind whistle forlornly through the shattered windows and holes in the walls, and wonders if this is their punishment for their hubris. Dead leaves whisper through the grass, like the voices of so many ghosts; with a sigh, he kneels, sweeping dirt away from the walk. This is the place of his birth, and he remembers with a fond sort of ache the feasts and festivals that were held here, one in particular which was always dear to him.

The Feast of All Souls began as a prayer. To remember those who’d come before, goddesses lit candles within their homes and laid offerings of food and wine on their doorsteps. Eventually, with the war looming over their clan, the Supreme Deity had made it a public event, one which all were encouraged to attend. Private offerings were still left, yet the majority of the evening was spent in the city streets, buying masks and scraps of finest parchment upon which to write hopes, dreams, or words of remembrance. And, once the sun had set and the world was cool and quiet, in the grand courtyard a chosen member of their race would light the torches and dance, and those little bits of people’s lives would be fed to the bonfire, to reach the next life. Mael rubs a dandelion between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. There is no one here, and yet . . .

He has no place in Britannia, nor a reason to return there. Too much suffering is on his shoulders, too much grief for him to express his own. And with the role he played in Escanor’s passing — how foolish he had been to believe that Elizabeth could heal the damage inflicted by Sunshine, how naive to trust in Escanor’s words over his own understanding of the man’s life — he would no doubt face scathing ire from the Sins, who loved Escanor as a comrade and a friend. And the Celestial Realm is in ruins, hardly fit to live in. Mael is well and truly alone in this world, and he presses himself to his feet and lifts his gaze to study the first blooming stars. He does not know where he will go from here, but he decides that, before he meets whatever fate is in store for him, he will honor those who lost their lives in this senseless war. 

He will reignite the flames of the Feast.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Mael stands in the center of the courtyard, watching as the sun begins its slow trek below the horizon. It is cold now, the seasons caught between autumn and winter, and the ivy that climbs the stone pillars is a vibrant, otherworldly green against the tawny hues of the rest of the world, and his breath condenses on the inside of the mask he wears. Only the Grace that had returned to him keeps him from truly feeling the chill; he is shirtless, his feet bare, and without Sunshine he would be trembling. Surrounding him are torches, burning brightly against the oncoming gloom, plates of food and wine at their bases, and a pile of dead branches waits for him to set it alight. His mind is as clear as it can be, his limbs tense for the dance he will perform. When the sun kisses the edge of the sky, he leans over and presses one of his own torches to the kindling, and the bonfire, soaked in oil, roars to life.

Then Mael begins to dance.

It is Ludoshel he thinks of first, the brother he had all but worshipped in his youth. He remembers his first flight—more of a glide, really, his wings too small and his feathers too new to hold him aloft for more than a few moments—how Ludoshel beamed with pride as he landed awkwardly on his feet and ruffled the hair that never laid as prettily as his own. Nights passed with stories, his brother tracing the constellations in the sky and telling them how they came to be: the Warrior, forever chasing the Queen he loved; the clever Fox that marked the beginning of autumn, the Saint and the King and the Dove, until Mael’s head was full of starlight and dreams. Ludoshel’s comfort when he was injured, his hands calloused yet soothing as he bandaged scrapes. Ludoshel, his voice hoarse with held-back tears as he clapped Mael on the shoulder and congratulated him on becoming an Archangel. His brother, and confidante, who had his flaws yet was always good to him. 

Mael flicks out an arm, the torch in that hand dangling by his fingertips. To my brother, without whom I would not be. I thank you.

Escanor comes next. Though they had barely known each other at all, the man had been full of kindness and love, the type of person Mael wished he had been three thousand years ago. Their meeting had been violent, to be sure, but even then, even as Estarossa, he had felt a genuine respect for the one who stood against his decree, and knows now that Sunshine did not aid him in that feat. Escanor had not been capable of hatred; his heart was too pure, his capacity for understanding too great. Even in his grief, he had not been cruel, each action meant to end Mael’s life as quickly and cleanly as possible. Well, perhaps that is too generous, but whether or not Escanor knew that Cruel Sun would cause a slow death, Mael does not know. They had been bound by Sunshine and Mael had found him, and Escanor had pleaded with him, not once but twice, refusing to accept the self-loathing brewing within Mael’s chest. 

He crouches, twisting the torches over his head in a shower of sparks. To Escanor, who was all that I hoped to be and more. I thank you. 

Sariel, who taught him to read the affection that lurked beneath abrasive words, and Tarmiel, the one who had never given up his hope that Mael was good, both dead by his hands. Sariel’s tongue had always been like sandpaper, yet he had been the one to teach him how to be agile, how to stay moving in the air so no one enemy could get close enough to do him harm. Tarmiel, gentle and sweet, had encouraged him, shown him the proper way to grip a sword and how he could use his size to make his opponents think he was slower than he was to keep the upper hand. Monspeet, an unwilling victim of the illness that had festered within Mael as the decree at away at his sanity; Derieri, who sacrificed herself in an attempt to save him; Oslo, who was Rou, a loyal companion that devoured Mael’s magic so that the Fairy King could live. 

Without that, without them, he would not have survived, and he lets the fire lick his shoulders as he draws the torches along his chest. To those who gave themselves so that I would be free. I thank you.

In one fluid movement, he lunges forward and places the torches atop the fire, his magic working to heal his hands even as they burn. Then he steps back, removing the mask he had carved from silver aspen and the ceremonial trousers woven from red-dyed wool before placing them within the pile as well, the flames devouring the hopes and prayers held within the objects, turning them into smoke that will hopefully reach the souls they are meant for. The sun is long gone now, the moon at the apex of its journey, and the sweat that had formed as he danced grows cold along his legs and back. Mael picks up the flask of wine he’d brought for himself and opens it to drink, uncaring of his nudity. He must watch until the fire dies, and then he can rest until dawn. Checking the offerings will come in the morning; so he sits and drinks and fasts till only embers remain, smoldering against the shattered stone.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The next morning, he exits his makeshift home, exhausted and more than a little hungover. A quick Invigorate cures him of the latter, but his bones ache as he treks by to the courtyard to clean up the remnants from the Feast. It is an unusually bright day, the sky clear and free of clouds, and the sun warms his back as he kneels down to inspect the first of the offerings, finding it nearly gone. With a faint smile, he moves to the next, and the next, and the last, and each of them has been disturbed more than the birds are capable of, the gifts picked thoroughly and more than half-missing. The sign of a good Feast and answered prayers lifts a weight Mael hadn’t realized he was carrying from his shoulders. He knows that he is by no means forgiven for the atrocities he committed, yet the sight of empty baskets puts him at ease; perhaps now those left behind can begin their healing. He pauses next to the remains of the bonfire to tilt his head back, studying the clear blue stretching endlessly above his head. 

“Autumn,” Ludoshel says, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “is a time of rest so that we can be reborn anew, like all that the Supreme Deity’s light touches.”

“I miss you,” Mael replies.

His voice echoes flatly in the air, and he closes his eyes against the grief that swells within him. Rest to be reborn anew. 

Footsteps crunch over the dirt, drawing Mael’s attention to the ruined stairs. To his surprise, Meliodas is standing there, his hands in his pockets as he surveys their surroundings, his brows furrowed with what can only be contemplation. Then his green eyes cut across the theater to Mael, and his usual grin slides into place. “I thought I’d find you here,” he says cheerfully, crossing to him. “Or hoped, actually, but Elizabeth said this is where you were most likely to go.”

Mael can only stare at him while his mind tries to comprehend Meliodas being in the Celestial Realm. “Why?” he asks.

He supposes it could have meant why are you looking for me, or why did Elizabeth send you, and Meliodas chooses to answer the former. “I have a proposition for you.” He scratches the back of his head. “Well, the Sins do. With Escanor gone, we’re short one, and all of us are used to fighting with Sunshine around. So we want you to join us. There probably won’t be much fighting,” Meliodas adds when Mael stiffens, “since the war is over, which means you’ll mostly be helping run the Boar’s Hat and keeping the peace when we have to.”

He isn’t sure what to make of the offer. “I’m not sure I’m suited to becoming his legacy.”

Meliodas waves his hand dismissively. “No one’s asking for that, or for you to become the Sin of Pride. We’re offering a home, and a chance to do something other than stay here, alone.” His gaze is calculating now as he looks at Mael, almost as though he is daring him to refuse, and he nearly smiles as the old, Estarossa-like desire to meet the challenge swells within him.

“Alright,” Mael agrees. “I’ll go with you. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Buy me a drink.”

Meliodas grins, holding out a hand that Mael clasps warmly within his own, and there’s a rush of fear, longing and hope that makes him tremble. Be reborn, he thinks. I’ll try my best, brother.

[definitelyseven]

liability | three

summary: reporter meets mafia boss, Park Jinyoung

one | two | three | four | five | six (m) | seven (m) | eight | nine (m) | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen (m) | fifteen | sixteen (m) | seventeen | eighteen - final |

You could almost taste him.

“Jinyoung, your father is here,” you hear his bodyguard, Mark say. You quickly moved away from Jinyoung, slightly embarrassed.

“I’ll be right back,” he said giving your hand a light squeeze before leaving. You got up carefully and followed quietly behind. “Father,” you hear him call.

“What happened?” his father’s voice was cold and scary. It made you nervous even if you were only listening from the other side of the door.

“I had to save her.”

“Who is she? Do you know what you’ve done son?!” his father yelled. 

“I had to save her,” Jinyoung said through his teeth.

“The risk you put our family in,” you could hear glass shatter. “Get rid of her. She’s a liability.”

“She’s my liability.” 

“This girl will get you killed!” his father warned. The door swings open and you stood there frozen. There you were standing face to face with Jinyoung’s father. You gulped.

“Sorry...I-I..” You stuttered shifting to the side, making space for him to walk.

“You’re the girl my son saved,” you nodded slowly. “You’ll be the death of him,” he said walking away. You hear Jinyoung chuckle from afar. 

“It’s not funny,” you said to him crossing your arms.

“You don’t know trouble, do you?” he asked making his way towards you. “I told you to wait for me to come back,” he teases, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the bedroom. “You should get some rest.”

“I want to rinse off. I feel gross,” you tell him making your way to the bathroom. 

“Do you need help?” you stared at him, one eyebrow raised. He gently flicks your forehead. “With your bandages,” Jinyoung lifts you up and sets you down on the bathroom counter, helping you remove the bandages. You watched him. You could tell he was trying to be extra careful not to hurt you. You turned back slightly to look in the mirror - your cheeks bruised from the slaps, your neck bruised with the kidnappers’ fingers, and a cut on your neck. Tears formed in your eyes. Jinyoung notices and rubs your arm up and down. “Hey...what’s wrong?” he asked. You didn’t respond but just let your tears fall. “I told you not to be nosey, didn’t I? If you minded your own business, this wouldn’t happen.” You looked at him and continued to cry some more.  You didn’t need to be lectured right now, especially not by him. “Okay, okay. You’re not nosey. Don’t cry.” He says wiping the tears off your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says pulling you in for a hug. 

You sat there as you watched him draw your bath, testing if the water was warm enough. He helps you off the counter and makes sure to look away as you undress yourself. He stays by your side as you bathe. 

“Why did you save me?” you ask him.

“I needed to save you because you wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me. I want to protect you.” 

“Why do you do it?” you ask him again.

“Do what?”

“Do whatever it is you don’t want people to know.” He doesn’t respond. “You’re intelligent, you’re definitely capable of running a business so, why?” 

“Because if I don’t, many many people will lose their jobs. They have families they need to take care of,” he explains playing with the bubbles in your bath. You reach out to grab his hand. 

“I’m sure many many people are thankful for that,” you smiled assuring him. He smiles back and stands up. “Where are you going?”

“I need to wash up too.”

“I...” you hesitate before speaking. “Um...are you coming back?” you didn’t want to be alone tonight. 

“Do you want me to come back?” you bit your lip and looked up at him.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight. I’m scared,” you confessed.

“Come to my room after your done.”

You stood outside his door, hesitating on whether to enter. He doesn’t seem like he would take advantage of you. He’s been very kind from the moment he saved you. He wouldn’t, would he? As you contemplated whether or not to go in, the door opens. There stood Jinyoung, half-naked with a towel around his waist. You squealed covering your eyes. 

“I’m not naked,” You slowly removed your hands from your eyes. His body was still wet from the shower. You gulped. You knew he was fit, but you hadn’t realized how muscular and tone he was; his abs could put you in a daze. “I was wondering what took you so long,” he said opening the door wider for you to come in. You hesitated, but followed. His room was nothing like you imagined. You watched as he got comfortable in his bed. You looked around, no couches. 

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you said heading towards the door. 

“I promise, I won’t try anything. The bed is big enough for the both of us. I’ll keep to my side. I promised,” he said again. You bit your lip, hesitating. “Your choice, I won’t ask you again,” you trusted him, he saved you. You slowly slid into the other side of the bed, facing him. 

“When is it safe to go back? I kind of need clothes. I don’t have underwear.”

He smirks at your comment making you roll your eyes. He moves closer to you, “No underwear, huh?”

“You said you won’t try anything,” he scoots back. 

“What else do you need? I can have someone get it for you,” you shook your head. 

“I can’t have you do that for me.”

“You saved me too. You can have anything you want.” This time it was your turn to smirk. You leaned in.  

“An interview.”

“Go to bed,” he says turning off the lights. 

“Who’s clothes are these?”

“Women who’ve spent the night.” you scoffed and turned your back to him. You hear him chuckle. 

You woke up to sound of the phone ringing and a body shifting next to you. You felt his arms slip away from your waist and you realized how close you actually were to him. You were laying on his chest, hand on his lower stomach. You groaned at the lost of contact. 

“Yes, I’ll be there in an hour,” you hear him say before hanging up. You buried your face in his bare chest. “Good morning. Look who can’t stay away.”

“I’m too tired to think of a comeback,” you said snuggling closer to his body, making yourself more comfortable. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you gently on top of his body. “Good morning,” you said, heart racing at the intimacy. You could feel his length against your lower body.

“Good morning.”

“Thank you,” he looks at you slightly confused. “I never thanked you for saving me or for keeping me company last night,” you leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Thank you,” you repeated. You felt his grip around your waist tighten, pushing your lower body against his. You held back a moan. He flips you over, getting on top of you.

“I can think of another way for you to thank me.”

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 11: Preaching To The Choir

Esredes was always somewhat tense on these nights. It was recruitment night, and one he was at the head of. Ysayle did the bulk of these, seeing who showed up to the invisible ink on the innocuous flyers and seeing who would step forward and join their ranks. She was incredibly good at it, even from the start. But the woman could not be everywhere at once, and Esredes was one of the many others who volunteered to do the task. Security was always tight at the meetings. A lot of his own stood by as guard to both the invited guests and the speaker, and incidents were rare. The meeting was always held somewhere they did not return to again, and with plenty of room to get away by flight, and plenty of distance between the speaker and the audience, surrounded by his people as guard as they were. Yet it never helped that tension of the fact any one could be the incident, and there was still always so much put on the line. Not to even mention, being the speaker himself was always worse than simply guarding it. When he was standing by and managing these events, he was in his usual combat uniform inspecting people one by one to check for weapons, and then standing near Ysayle as guard afterwards. But when he was the speaker, the uniform didn't cut it. The speaker had to have presence, they had to try and captivate the vulnerable and questioning audience. So the weavers at the camp had settled on constructing him a long, black cloak that draped down to his feet, with equally long and draping sleeves. The sleeves add a lot of character, they said. The whole of the cloak was adorned with silver stitched accents, in a way they claimed evaded feeling too fancy, yet evoked a sense of mysticism necessary to captivate the audience. Every other speaker had a similar cloak attire made to them. It seemed they were the uniform look to go with. Esredes somewhat understood the power of the cloak. When he wore it before the ceremony began, it felt a bit awkward, like he was pretending to be a mage when he was an imitator of it at most, and he found himself fumbling idly with the sleeves often. It was only once he took his place and got into the thick of it that he truly felt the concept of presence it evoked. For now, though, Esredes had to stand awkwardly among the rest of the guard on a cliff above the gathering, as below his people continued their process of vetting everyone who came, and watch quietly, reciting his speech in his head repeatedly. It didn't matter how many times he had given this exact speech before, or the fact he often went scriptless for motivational speeches to his people, he still felt the need to be sure he did not mess it up. Behind the cloak's hood, his orange eyes peered out at every new person who arrived carefully, contemplating to himself if they would join or leave, if he would get to know them or they would be just another lost speck on the wind, and what brought them here. There was always an element of fascination to each individual story, no matter how many similar ones came. Finally, a hush fell over the gathered crowd. The guard moved into position, a circle upon the cliff, and he took his place in the middle. How odd it did feel, to be the guarded item in the middle, as if he wasn't just as often on the outer circle, as if there was really anything to guard and he wouldn't just immediately attack anyone who thought they could shoot the messenger. But spectacle was spectacle. Esredes slowly made his way into the center and peered down at the crowd once more from beneath his hood. The air hung silent for a moment as all eyes peered on him, and then he raised his hands up and let his gloved hands point out at the crowd as the long sleeves trailed down gracefully. "Good evening, people of Coerthas and beyond," he began. "Whether you have truly come from within the city's walls or lands beyond, I give you the warmest welcome to our humble little gathering. Though I am sure all of you come from vastly different backgrounds, one thing has brought you here tonight- doubt." He made his first strategic pause, watching the crowd a moment as his words fell down below to them. "We live in a world where there is much and more to doubt- how can the people of Coerthas be truly certain of sleep's next embrace with all that rages above and below?" He paused for a small moment, and began to pace to the left, one arm across his abdomen. "Nor will the walls of Ishgard itself protect anyone, for within them the Church listens to your every thought and ravages its people for heresy. Thus, you are brought here." He turned the other way and dropped both arms, returning slowly to the center. "In all of the doubt that swirls within you, you have come to listen to a truth that hides out here on the northern wind. A tale of the lies of the Church and the origins of our very nation." He faced the crowd full on once more, and held his arms out directly out from their place on the side of his body, forearm and palms raised a little and facing the sky. "The Dragonsong War that has plagued the lands of Coerthas for a thousand years did not begin how we are asked to believe it is. It began even earlier." Murmurs and whispers came from the crowd, and Esredes allowed them to ripple through before he continued. "Long ago, when these lands were fresh and new to the Elezen, they came to settle and encroached directly on the existing territory of the dragons. When war broke out, only one thing could bring it to a ceasefire- that of a maiden named Shiva. You might know her as a witch who lied down with dragons, the original heretic- but she is anything but. She is the one who had the courage to seek out the voice of the other side and found the great wyrm by the name of Hraesvelgr. The two fell in love, and it was the witnessing of their bond by all that lead to a ceasefire. For two hundred years, man and dragon worked together, they built structures that still stand today in Dravania. But it was not Nidhogg who ruined this fleeting peace, but the very founders of Ishgard." Esredes paused. "Do you ever stop to wonder why the wyrm is as lost to vengeance as he is? Why his rage upon the city is so unending? It's because he was betrayed. The founders lured him to the city and stole his eye, devouring it for the taste of a dragon's power without the need to rely on one. And so the wyrm rages on, forever unable to regain that which is lost." Esredes paused once more and trailed slowly across his makeshift stage. "Nidhogg rages on, trying to destroy Ishgard. And Ishgard crumbles piece by piece to his attacks, accelerating its own destruction by tearing each other apart from the inside with accusations of heresy and the lines between high and lowborn. Tonight, all of you have come to the middle." To emphasize his point, he stood in the middle again and raised both hands up. "We are the people who fight not for the self destructive Ishgard, nor the raging horde, but for the one thing neither of them are capable of, peace. For just as Shiva brought man and dragon together once in the midst of conflict, so must something rise again to be the missing link, or else the lands of Coerthas and possibly all of Eorzea, will be eventually be consumed in dragonfire." Another strategic pause came and went. The crowd had much louder murmuring this time. "Until the people of Ishgard can see the light of the truth, there will be nothing but continuous warfare, and the continued destruction of its own people. Ishgard is eating itself alive day by day in its desperation to survive. It fights and resists us at every turn, but it is up to us alone to bring it to parley by any means possible. We will bring salvation to Ishgard and punishment to the wicked, through the collaboration of people of all kinds and dragons who will rise to the task. The very future of this land rests on everything we try to accomplish." Esredes stepped forward and scanned the faces of the crowd. "I expect for many of you beyond the simply curious, you have come here because something in your heart cries out for justice unseen. And for all of you, I say now- justice is possible, and justice will come. Your wounds are not without their sources of healing. For Ishgard is never to flourish again without the weeds exterminated from the garden. Imagine it, for a moment. A land where once again man and dragon work together, benefitting from their mutual talents, the populations of each flourishing and allowing the land to thrive. Children never again wake up afraid of being burned by dragon's fire. That is our greatest future. And that is a future worth fighting for." Esredes moved his hands up to his hood and threw it off, exposing his face and hair to the crowd. With it, he rose his hands all the way up past his head and into the air. "People of Eorzea! I ask you now, to search through the depths of your hearts, and find it in you to take a stand for something greater than yourself. To channel the grievances of your heart into making a world in which others will not suffer the pain you go through each day, and this land will shine with beauty it hasn't glimpsed in a very long time. It is a path of hardship and sacrifice, but it is nothing compared to what will befall everyone if the war is allowed to continue to stain the soil with blood. Through our collective will, we shall bridge the gap, we shall sweep upon the hearts of man and dragon to make them one again- and nothing Ishgard may do will stop us until the Archbishop has atoned for his crimes and every dragon in the land is beyond blind rage." He paused there, to let his words fall over the crowd for a moment, and slowly lowered his arms back to his side. "If you would like to stand with Shiva's people, please step forward and gather by the group of people in front of you. If not, you are free to leave, and never speak of this night again. But make your choice with all due consideration, as there will be no reversing it." The crowd looked to one another. Slowly, one person stepped forward, then another, until every single one had stepped over. The guards began to instruct and lead them up the cliff to rejoin his group up here. And with that, Esredes stepped aside and rejoined the group himself. "Well done," one of them said to him with a soft elbow nudge. "Have you ever considered becoming an actor after you're done saving Coerthas?" "Not in the slightest." Esredes said. "This is just practical acting for a purpose. I don't think I could do artistic acting. People train a long time for that." "Maybe we'll put on our first ever Disciples play and cast you in it someday," he said with a wink. "I would kick you out of this movement." He chuckled. "That's the spirit, Esredes. Never change." Esredes smiled faintly back, and then began walking. "Now," he said. "Let's hope the room counts are accurate tonight..."

[nev3rfound]

his true colours : l.l

brief summary: unlike everyone else, you truly believe everyone has something in them that makes them good. all you want is a chance to prove that it can be true, even for the most wicked. 

word count: 4k requested: yes by the lovely @wolfiepheanix​ i loved this concept and a chance to write for loki once again :) warnings: lotta angst 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

masterlistin’

permanent taglist

After the attack on New York, everyone was rightfully afraid of Loki. He tore a beloved city apart, lives were lost and torment lured long after he departed. 

The Avengers were left to help pick up the pieces, and as a new recruit, you were heavily involved in the aftermath. You had witnessed it all happen from afar as Tony was too afraid to let you on the field. Despite your training and abilities, you were still naive to the trickster's capabilities. 

You listened to their stories, the mutters of his name said in disgust. But you couldn’t help but feel curious which resorted into hours of research whilst Thor was gone. You read stories of the legends, the articles released by newspapers with photographs of his reign of terror covering the front page. 

Unlike everyone else, you couldn’t see a monster. You could see a lost soul. 

*

“Hey, Thor?” You speak up, poking your eyes above your book as Thor swirls a glass in his hand.

Catching your attention, he unintentionally breaks the glass. “Oops.” He mutters, brushing the shards of glass from his lap as he turns to face you. “How can I help, young Y/n?” 

You rub your lips together before placing your book down beside you. “I know Loki is a bit of a touchy subject,” You start and Thor shakes his head.

“Nonsense!” He exclaims. “He’s my brother, even if he tries to kill me every time I see him.” He chuckles and you let out a nervous laugh. “Why’d you ask?”

“Kid,” You let out a small sigh as Tony walks into the room. “don’t even bother. What did I tell you?” Tony questions as he leans against the counter with his arms crossed. 

“I just wanna know some more about him, Tony.” You try to explain whilst Thor remains oblivious between you both. 

“What more is there to know? He’s a God, he’s evil and nearly destroyed humanity.” Tony states bluntly. “What else do you wanna know, kid?” He asks you, seeing you shrug your shoulders before slouching back into the sofa.

“Lady Y/n?” Thor speaks up, brows furrowed together as he takes a seat beside you. “Do you wish to learn more about Loki?” He questions quietly, glancing over his shoulder to see Tony exiting the room, pleased to have settled your curiosity once more about the God of mischief.

You nod softly. “I know it sounds crazy, Thor.” You begin and look down at your hands, seeing the soft orange energy glow around them. “But I don’t think Loki is bad. I, I think he just doesn’t know how to, to be good.” You try your best to explain and listen as Thor chuckles under his breath. “You probably think I’m crazy.” You dismiss yourself but Thor rests his hand on your arm.

“I think you’re far from crazy, Lady Y/n.” Thor tells you with a growing smile. “You’re the first to have said anything positive about my brother in well, centuries.” He admits and a small smile ghosts your lips.

“I’ve known evil,” You mutter to yourself, watching as the warm orange glows to vibrant red. “but Loki isn’t it.” You look up, seeing something in Thor’s eyes. 

“Come with me,” Thor rises to his feet, holding out his hand to you. “and hold on tight.” He adds and you shuffle closer as you wrap your arms around him. 

“Thor?” You question, but before you can say anything else you watch as Mjolnir is inches from your face and is raised to the ceiling. “Thor!” You yell as you’re surrounded by colour and you feel weightless.

Your eyes remain tightly shut as you feel your feet back on a solid surface, your grip on Thor not easing despite his gentle pat on your back. “You can let go now, Y/n.” Thor chuckles and you slowly open your eyes.

“I’m dreaming, right?” You blurt out as you look around you, seeing the bridge you’ve read about and the city you’ve listened to Thor reminisce on. 

“That you aren’t.” A voice speaks up and Thor brings the man into a tight embrace. “This is the one with good intentions I believe?” He questions, motioning for you to step forward. “You’re glowing, dear.” He says and you look down, seeing a yellow glow surrounding you.

“She’s excited, Heimdall.” Thor states and you smile nervously, nodding along. “Now, where is Loki being kept?” 

Heimdall’s smile disappears into a tight-lipped line. “Where do you think, Thor?” Heimdall questions and you look over to the God, seeing colour draining from his expression before he grabs your hand. 

“Come on, we must see Loki before they worsen his sentence.” Thor yells as he brings you close to his chest and once more you’re lifted from the ground. 

*

“This is meant to be a punishment?” You look to Thor who stares at the large room. “Thor, this is better than my old apartment. You seriously consider this a jail cell?” You try to hold back your laugh as he remains in deep thought. 

“Loki will be held here awaiting trial. He’s been stripped of his powers, he’s useless inside there.” Thor motions to the large box, glass floor to ceiling meaning he will forever be on view for those passing by. 

“Where is he then?” You question, looking up to Thor who eyes the large space before spotting his brother lying down beside a wall, his legs in the air. 

“Loki?” Thor calls out, resting his hand on the glass as the other knocks, catching his brother's attention.

You watch as Loki lowers his legs, turning his head to see both of you stood there. “Well, if it isn’t my greatest brother and a new friend?” He raises an eyebrow, stalking toward you both. “Did the last midguardian not work out then?” He tuts, eyeing you closely.

“This is Lady Y/n, she is part of the Avengers.” Thor states proudly as you remain silent, your eyes remaining on Loki’s. 

“She doesn’t scare easy, does she?” Loki jokes, a small smile crossing his face.

“She doesn’t no.” You respond coldly and watch as his smile drops. “And it’s nice to finally meet you, Loki.” You add and he raises an eyebrow.

“Nice? I think you must be mistaken, dear.” He chuckles, but you shake your head. “You do know who I am, don’t you?” 

“I do,” You tell him as you look up at Thor who nods before walking away, leaving you and Loki alone with a pane of glass separating you both. “and I believe that you aren’t as bad as you make out to be.” You explain and Loki steps back, perching on the edge of the queen-sized bed. 

“You must be mistaken to think such a thing.” He cuts you off. “I am the God of Mischief, all I do is cause chaos and destruction. It is what I do, and what I find pleasure from.” He explains and you nod along.

“I’m sure there is an element of pleasure from it, Loki. But I don’t think you love it deep down.” You respond, keeping a straight face. “I was once trained to be used for evil, to be a living weapon. Yet, here I am. I knew I was meant for better, to be a good person.” You motion to yourself as your powers glow from your fingertips, catching the God’s attention.

“You’re not a normal midguardian are you, dear?” His interest has peaked as he nears the glass once more.

You shrug a shoulder, diminishing your powers as you rest your hands by your sides. “I guess I’m not. But I can see the energy that surrounds people and God’s alike.” 

Tilting your head, you focus closely on Loki as he remains perfectly still.

“And what do you see?” He questions, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I see yellow.” You tell him. “No black, no horror or darkness. Just yellow.” You explain, watching as it changes and your brows furrow together. “But there’s that black, trying to force its way through the yellow.” 

Loki sighs. “Darkness is somewhat of an internal battle I have with myself, Y/n.” He addresses you by your name for the first time, catching you off guard as he starts to lower his barriers. 

“Do go on,” You encourage him with a soft smile, something he hasn’t seen in a long time directed his way. 

Loki leans forward, taking his chance to open himself up to someone. “Dear Father never saw potential in me, I was always the outcast of the family with my perfect brother set to take the throne.” Loki explains, but you don’t dare interrupt. 

You listen as Loki explains his story, his honest side that isn’t filled with torment and manipulation. He’s telling you how it was, not from the perspective of a villain he is often painted out to be. 

“And it got to a point where I felt left without any other choice but to turn to the reputation that was built for me.” He finishes, hiding his face from your view as black hair covers his eyes. 

“It’s never too late to change, Loki.” You speak up quietly, but he can hear you, just. 

“For some reason, I doubt that it’s going to be an option now, dear.” He forces a small laugh, one coated in sadness. “I’m destined for this, there’s no way out now.” He admits, lifting his head up to see your gaze locked on him, sympathy lacing your expression. 

“Do you really think that?” You question and Loki raises an eyebrow, contemplating whether or not you’re as smart as you first seemed or truly a dim-witted midguardian. 

A small scoff leaves his lips as he rises to his feet, pacing toward the glass as he towers over you. “Do you see any other way out?” He retorts, trying to make you feel small, but it doesn’t work.

“You don’t scare me, Loki.” You remind him. “And I do in fact, but you’d have to trust me.” You hesitantly lift your hand up, resting it against the glass as orange glows around your palm.

You watch as Loki rests his hand on the glass, wishing he could see the yellow radiating from him. “What do I have to lose that this point?” He forces a small smile, quickly retracting his hand as Thor walks back in. 

“Well?” He turns to face you, watching as you curtly nod. “Brilliant news!” He runs toward you, lifting you off as he squeezes you tightly in excitement.

“Brother, I think you might be crushing Y/n.” Loki speaks up and Thor lowers you to the ground, allowing you to clear your throat. 

“We’ve got work to do it seems.” You say with a small smile, glancing over to Loki wondering if you can actually pull this off. 

*

“No, it’s not happening.” Tony announces, shaking his head whilst he paces around the conference room.

“Come on, Tony.” You try to reason, but he stops and points a finger at you. “I’m not twelve, put your damn finger down.” You scoff and a few turn to look at you with surprised looks. 

“Listen, Y/n. You didn’t deal with Loki.” Clint pipes in, having experienced it all first hand. “I still have nightmares ‘bout the shit he made me do.” He admits and Natasha rests her hand on his shoulder, sending him a comforting smile. 

“I know he’s done bad things. But look at all of us, if we hadn’t done bad things would we be here?” You take the time to look at everyone in the room. “We’ve all messed up, but we’ve been given countless chances to have another go. So why can’t we let him?” 

The room falls silent as your words hang heavy over everybody’s head. That is, until Steve speaks up.

“What if you watched him, all the time and made sure he was kept under control?” Steve suggests, looking over to Tony who facepalms. “No, let me explain.” He rises to his feet, walking toward you. “Loki could have a chance, as long as he proves himself. You would look after him, make sure he’s by your side 24 hours a day.” 

“Wow, who are we punishing Loki or Y/n?” Sam jokes, watching as you roll your eyes.

“That way, we know he’s in safe hands.” Steve finishes, turning to face Tony who sighs.

“There’s no way we’re getting out of this, is there kid?” Tony hides his irritation as you proudly shake your head. “Fine, guess we better beam him down.” He waves his hand before departing from the conference room. 

Slowly one by one, the Avengers file out until it’s just you, Thor and Steve. 

“Why’d you give him another chance?” You think aloud, watching as Steve’s gaze follows some of his closest friends.

“No one believed Bucky could be good after everything, but he came back.” Steve states, seeing Bucky joke with Sam as they wander past the conference room. “Everyone deserves a chance to at least try. Just, just keep a close eye on him, yeah?” He smiles to you before walking out, leaving you with Thor.

“So, when will he get here?” You question, nerves sinking in at the realisation that this is actually happening. 

“Give him ten minutes.” Thor tells you as he looks up to the ceiling before exhaling deeply. “Oh, nevermind. He’s here.” He states and walks out, waiting for you to simply follow behind him.

Looking toward the door, you watch as Loki walks in with a small smile on his face. “Y/n.” He nods to you, seeing you faintly wave.

“No gold horns today?” You try to joke in a poor attempt at easing the suffocating tension, only to hear Thor exhale deeply.

“Right then, I best get you to your living quarters, brother.” Thor pats Loki’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “Luckily it’s between Y/n’s floor and mine.” Thor happily states as Loki’s face fills with despair.

“You can go back to jail Loki, it’s your choice.” You remind him, and he nods.

“I might just take you up on that offer, Y/n.” 

*

In the days that you’ve spent with Loki, you’ve learnt a lot. 

One of the biggest things you’ve learnt about is trust, and how valuable it actually is. You’re the reason he is stood in the compound by your side and not inside of an apartment-sized cell. 

Everyone beside Thor remains cautious around him, and you understand why. All you wish is for them to see what you can see, that darkness doesn’t surround him in the way they believe it does. 

“Hey, Y/n?” You don’t have to lower your eyes from your book to know who it is, lurking in the doorframe in case you’re with company. 

“How's it hangin’ Clint?” You call out, hearing his hesitant footsteps approach you until he’s hovering in front of you. 

Lowering your book, you rest your finger between the pages as you focus on the concern evident in his expression. 

“Can I ask, how’d you trust him?” He quietly asks, not wanting anyone else to hear him as his vulnerability shines, something usually well concealed. 

You shuffle on the sofa, patting the spot beside you. “I just don’t think he’s inherently evil.” You try to explain. “It’s hard to put into words, but no one can see what I can see.” 

Clint nods along. “The glow, right?” He questions, watching as you look down at your fingertips before looking at his. “Do I have a glow?” 

“Green. Nature, open spaces, wildlife and” You pause as black trickles through the energy. “and, honesty.” You force yourself to finish, flashing a small smile. “Loki he, he is trying, he really is.” 

“I understand that, but we can’t just forget, Y/n.” He admits, but he’s merely repeating facts that have been drilled into you. “Sometimes I worry you’re too kind for your own good.” He jokes, nudging your arm lightly as a small laugh leaves your lips.

“You’re probably right.” You comment back, knowing it’s true, but you can’t help yourself sometimes. 

“Y/n,” Loki speaks up, trying to act as if he hasn’t been lingering in the corridor since Clint passed him moments ago. 

Averting your attention from Clint, your smile widens as Loki walks into the room. “Hey stranger,” You’re truly glowing in a way everyone else can see, one for once, you’re blind to it. “how was lunch with Thor?” 

Loki sighs quietly. “Well, Tony decided to join us and it wasn’t awful.” He shrugs it off, but you can see his shoulders hanging forward in defeat. “Sometimes I wonder if I would be better back on Asgard.” 

Rising to your feet, you walk over as your hands rest on his shoulders. “Don’t say that,” You mutter forcefully to him, catching his gaze on yours. “some days are better than others.” You try to encourage him, but sometimes you can’t ignore how set he is in his ways. 

“Would you like to accompany me around the grounds? I think some fresh air might do me the Midgard of good.” He asks and you happily comply. 

Clint watches in curiosity as the God walks off alongside you. How the version of Loki he just witnessed is a mere shadow of the one he remembered from years prior. 

*

Walking beside Loki, you remain in comfortable silence for the best part of the time, but you don’t mind it. Sometimes, silence can be deafening but with Loki, you’ve learnt to appreciate it. Usually, it means he’s lost in thought, wondering about the mundane sights surrounding him or about the things he’s lost back on Asgard, the trust he’s betrayed.

“I don’t say it often, Y/n, but I appreciate all you’ve done for me.” Loki speaks up, catching you off guard as you come to a halt. 

“Wait, what?” You question, furrowing your brows together as Loki stops too, facing you. “Did you just thank me?” 

Loki chuckles. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“What was that? You’re grateful for all I’ve done and wish me nothing but happiness and eternal sunshine? And maybe a couple of million? Wow, thanks Loki.” You joke with him as you both continue to walk, your pride silently fluttering in your stomach. 

As your eyes remain on the ground, Loki rolls his eyes before glancing down to you. He never understood what Thor saw in Jane, she was a mortal, a normal human with no royal blood. 

But being with you, having encountered your fire within the first moments of meeting you he understands. All Loki wishes were for more time with you. 

“Y/n, there’s something I have to tell you.” Loki takes your hand as you reach the edge of the compound, just as thunder starts to sound. 

“Thor in a bad mood?” You question, looking up as bright colours cross the sky. “What is that?” 

“Oh no.” Loki mutters, and he pauses as Thor yells for you in the distance along with the other Avengers. “Y/n, whatever you do, stay back. This isn’t safe.” Loki pleads as confusion clouds your thoughts. 

A bright light crosses your eyes as you cover them, but once you open them four figures stand beside Loki. “You must be the mortal who stole our prisoner.” One man speaks up, holding a weapon toward you. 

“I’m sorry, what?” You stutter over your words, holding your hands up in defence as you feel someone tug you back. 

“It wasn’t her, I swear.” Thor announces, knowing the men before him well. “Argog, do not punish her. She had no knowledge of what I’ve done.” Thor looks over to you as Tony holds you back. 

“You stole, Loki?” You blurt out, watching as Thor nods and a smirk crosses Loki’s lips. “And you never told me?” Anger laces your tone as underlays of betrayal can be heard, causing Loki’s smirk to disappear. 

“If you knew what would come, you would never have fully opened up to helping him.” Thor tries to explain, but you focus on Loki as another Asgardian holds him close, a knife resting across his chest. 

“What’s going to happen to him?” You quietly ask, feeling Tony’s grip on you loosen. 

“He’ll be trialled and punished.” The man holding Loki states coldly as a chill runs through your spine whilst Loki seems unphased, but his eyes remain focused on you. 

“He’s a good person,” You try to reason, stepping forward until you’re met with a spear inches from your neck. 

“Don’t, Falki.” Loki spits out, ignoring the pressure of the knife increasing against his chest. “She’s done nothing wrong, Y/n is a good person who just wanted to help.” He isn’t telling them, he’s telling you. If this were the last time he would see you, he wants you to know. 

“She was involved in the capture of our property,” Falki states. “they will be punished as we wish.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat as Loki vanishes into thin air before appearing in front of you. “You will do no such harm to any of these people.” He tells the Asgardians before him, his hands reaching out to you, holding you close. “I will come with you, I will let you punish me as long as you leave them unharmed.” 

“Loki, please,” You quietly plead, feeling tears filling your eyes.

“You won’t try anything trickster?” Agnor questions, watching as Loki shakes his head. “Fine. We will leave the mortals unscathed this time.” 

Loki turns around to face you for the last time, knowing his chances of escaping this time will be slim. “Loki, please don’t leave,” You sniff as his hand rests gently on your cheek, your hand rising to rest over it. 

“Be strong, love.” He whispers. “Be the woman I remember meeting, the one who showed no sign of fear and saw the good in a broken God.” He smiles softly as those around listen in silence. “No one else might’ve seen what you saw, but as long as one person found the good in me, I can live with that.” 

“Come on, trickster.” A long huff sounds from behind you both, and you feel his hand slip away from your embrace.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” Loki smiles to you as he backs away, standing between the Asgardians. “Thank you.” 

You watch as the glow surrounding him intensifies. “Is that it?” Tony questions, standing by your side. “The, the glow?” 

Wiping your eyes, you look around as everyone mirrors the same look of disbelief. “You, you can all see it?” You look back at Loki who nods to you before he disappears within a blink of an eye. 

Everyone begins to walk off, leaving you stood alone staring at the mark burned into the grass. 

“Y/n,” Thor speaks up, standing beside you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

“It’s okay, Thor.” You tell him as a sad smile laces your lips. “They all saw it, and that’s what matters.” You nod to yourself, hoping maybe you’ll believe it eventually. 

“He’ll find a way back, Y/n.” Thor mutters, wrapping his arm around you. “Loki always finds a way back.” 

Thor turns you around as you both begin to walk toward the compound. 

With a heavy heart, you nod along. “I can only hope so, Thor.” You admit, wishing anything to see his smile once more. 

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio & at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️

@biss-stuff​   @psychicforest​  @lourightm​ @mywinterwolf​   @justsomedreaming​ @stanlux17​ @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx​ @courtneychicken​ @marvelsangels​ @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @fandom-princess-forevermore  @sarge-barnes-sir 

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Reeducation & restraint

TIMING: A couple days ago LOCATION : White Crest General Hospital PARTIES : @notsoharsh​ & @carbrakes-and-stakes​ SUMMARY : Therapy, patience and suspicion.

Harsh cast another glance over the chart in his hands, frowning. He didn’t usually have much to do with physical therapy, but it was darker out earlier now and it never hurt to pick up a couple extra shifts where he could. It was just his job to get them in and out, no big deal. This one gave him pause though. Loss of limb wasn’t exactly anything new in White Crest, Harsh had seen his fair share of people in all parts of that process. What was weird were the doctor’s notes. Five weeks in, but healing like it had been months. That wasn’t totally out of the ordinary either. Well, in some terms. Plenty of things healed a lot quicker than run of the mill humans, enough that the staff at WC General had stopped worrying about it. Harsh couldn’t exactly fault them for that. With all the batshit things going on, complaining about people getting better too quickly would’ve been insane. Still, it made Harsh hesitate outside the room for a minute. There was no reason to be too concerned. He had helped plenty of patients who got better a little faster than they should have. This would be fine. Sticking his easy smile into place, he lightly knocked on the door before letting himself in. “Hey there, Mr. Babineaux. You ready to head home? Anything I can do for you before I get you out of here?”

A puzzled look on his face, Alain looked at the door. There was a vampire on the other side of that door, this much he knew. If he claimed that he was done hunting, his distaste for the species was not gone, and his resting frown intensified as the door opened. His eyes caught the name on the tag, and he replied with a stiff upper-lip : “I think I will be fine,” his hand reached for the back of his chair as he pulled himself up. Standing on his leg, the man gave the hospital worker a concerned look, wondering if he would just approach anyway. Reaching for his crutches, Alain noticed only then that his therapist had left them on the other side of the room. Of course. Biting on his cheek, he glanced from the crutches to the other man, then back at the crutches. “Would you mind?” If he was not thrilled about accepting his help, hopping around like a spring was out of the question too.

Apparently having just the one leg wasn’t going to keep this guy down. Harsh could respect that. He wasn’t sure if he should trust it though. If anyone was going to lose a limb and keep on swinging it would be some kind of hunter. Then again, there were plenty of corners of the supernatural world he had never even dipped a toe into. This could be nothing. “Huh?” He followed Alain’s glance and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He crossed the room and grabbed the crutches. “Do you want me to wheel you out of here? I can grab a chair, it’s a lot faster,” he said, offering Alain the crutches. Those probably couldn’t be used as a stake… probably. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around much before. I’ll probably be helping you for the next couple weeks, we just switched shifts around. I’m Harsh, by the way. I like to try to get to know my patients.” Maybe if he could keep up the friendly smile, this would be fine. He was probably already overthinking things. This was fine.

The prospect of having to accept the vampire's help did not enchant Alain, but the man was so tired that he had decided, at least for this morning, to put aside his hatred for them and to let the vampire help him. He suspected, of course, that Harsh was only working here for the hospital's vital resource, weak people, and more conveniently, a pocket supply of blood. The hunter was pragmatic, and he actually saw little harm in vampires feeding like this. A person at the end of their life, or blood in their bags, would still do less harm, and would be a much less risky way of sustaining themselves. However, putting aside his hatred didn't mean all animosity was gone, and it was no wonder his shoulders seemed to tense as the vampire approached with crutches in hand. He could probably stab him with those, he told himself. The hunter found himself confused when he began to ask himself the following question: what had this vampire done to deserve such a brutal and arbitrary death. If Alain often asked himself this question when he was alone, this was the first time he had asked himself this in the presence of these individuals whom he had considered since his childhood as monsters, shadows in the night, and whose sole purpose (and these were again traces of the teachings received as a child) was to terrorize men, and destroy lives. “I lost my leg not long ago,” though his voice sounded harsh and dry, the expression on his face seemed a little more relaxed, as he watched the other man act in a respectable manner. “The next couple weeks,” he repeated, and you could read in his face that the revelation puzzled him, as if he doubted his ability to endure such promiscuity in the long run. Maybe this was an opportunity that life gave him, to learn to bear with these individuals? The hunter, confused, glanced away from the vampire for a few seconds. This was evidence that he didn’t feel in danger, although that didn’t last long. “Harsh, okay. You might as well call me Alain then. I don’t think I’ll stand being called Mr. Babineaux for too long,” being reminded that he was his father's son was not something he enjoyed, and although he could rarely avoid it, if he could, he made it known. The hunter wondered about confessing who he was, but since he also wanted to know if he could endure a vampire for the long haul, he kept that to himself, hoping it wouldn't come back to hit him in the face in the weeks to come. .

There wasn’t anyone around. This guy was down a leg. The doctor wasn’t supposed to come back to check in on him. How hard would it be to snap his neck and get him in a body bag? Harsh had done more with less. But no. There were still half a dozen happy little hearts beating away just down the hall. If Alain screamed, they would come running. And what if he wasn’t a hunter? What if he was just some poor asshole who lost his leg? The last thing Harsh needed was that kind of heat on him. No. No murdering. This would be fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. Not having to breathe came in handy when it came to hiding his rising nerves. “Ah, yeah, I sorta noticed that,” he said, with a light little laugh. “How are you adjusting? I know that kind of thing can’t be easy.” That at least was true. He had seen plenty of patients and plenty of others before White Crest who had lost bits of themselves. “Alain, got it. Nice to meet you. So do you want me to grab a chair? Or anything else to help get you out of here?”

“You asked why you never saw me before,” the hunter deadpanned, little amused by this little exercise in humor. The last thing he felt capable of doing, right now, was sharing jokes with this kind of people. The man hadn't done anything wrong except that he wasn't really a human being. Alain wondered how old the vampire was, or whether he had been living here for a long time. He always had a lot of questions when he met a vampire, but more often than not, he never really had the opportunity to ask them, and more often than not, it was the hunter’s fault that he couldn’t ask those. “Well, things are not easy, no,” he didn’t have to lie to this guy. Alain always tried to preserve people, and figured that they simply could not care for him, but he was not going to be so careful here. “I had to stop work ever since it happened, and that has not been fun. My house is in the middle of nowhere so I had to move out. The realtor was pretty nice though, I think I made a friend there. That’s about the only positive bit though,” he stopped in his tracks. He rarely was so talkative, but it did not really matter to him now. It just felt off. “I think the crutches will be enough,” glancing over at the door, he pursed his lips. “Though I could use help getting out of this maze,” he agreed.

Not the joking type, okay, good to know. But the guy wasn’t flipping out or trying to go for a pencil to stake him with. Maybe he was alright. Maybe he wasn’t. This shit was so hard to tell. At least when a slayer was coming at him, Harsh knew what he was dealing with and how to respond. This not knowing, playing nice, this was the stuff that got under his skin. He nodded sympathetically. “I’ll bet. That sucks, man. Is your new place more accessible? People really just don’t consider this kind of stuff when they’re building property. Where did you work? If you don’t mind me asking.” That was all pretty rough, slayer or otherwise. It was easy enough to pretend to care about. “Yeah, no problem. You wanna stop by the cafeteria on your way out? I think they’re making the good cake today,” he said as he moved to the door, holding it open for Alain before falling into step. He kept his pace even. As funny as it would be, making a guy on crutches rush to keep up with him would probably qualify as a dick move. “Is someone picking you up or are you driving yourself?”

“It is much better,” and yet, the hunter's eyes fell to the ground as he thought of his old home. Lost in thought, he stared in that direction for a few seconds. The vampire's question pulled him out of that state of inner contemplation, and if he normally would have avoided saying too much about his personal life, everything was already on his medical record. “I own the garage on the way out of town,” which reminded him that he would also have to sell his car for something he could drive : which meant switching to automatic. “I should be able to keep working. I’m doing the accounts these days. They’ve never been so tidy,” his eyebrows raised. If this was one thing he could have never imagined, it was his accounts ever being up to date. He had always hated paperwork and administrative work, and he still hated that, but this was a weight off his back. “The good cake ? I’m scared to ask,” he looked over at the other man and shook his head. “I’m not getting near any hospital food by choice, I had to eat only that for weeks,” Alain had a thing for exaggeration, but in this particular case, he was fair. “Well I was thinking of walking back home. I don’t live far from here now. About fifteen minutes away, I think,” walking with crutches might have not been fun, but he missed being outdoor, and he insisted on walking whenever he could.

That didn’t sound a whole lot better. Maybe Harsh was being too nosy, but he was supposed to be chatty and friendly with the patients. People never suspected the upbeat friendly guy was the one stealing blood. “Well that’s something. I know it can be hard to find brightsides with this kind of injury, but it’s good to keep looking anyway.” This guy didn’t seem like he wanted bullshit platitudes or assurances that everything was going to be perfectly fine. Good. Harsh was always garbage with those. Laughing, he shook his head a little. “The bad cake isn’t that bad, it’s just that the good stuff always goes so fast. The cooks here… I mean, they try their best, y’know? But it’s not exactly gourmet, which I’m sure you noticed. So when they make something good, I always try to grab extra.” The surprise on Harsh’s face wasn’t the least bit fake. Walking that long on crutches sounded like a massive pain. “Are you sure, man? I can see if someone can drive you or call you a ride or something, it’s no problem. Your charts are looking good, but you still shouldn’t strain yourself.” He frowned as they reached the doors, hesitating with one hand on the bar. “I don’t like letting you go on your own, man. It’s already dark out. I’ve seen way too many animal attacks in this place to feel good about sending you out there.”

“It’s something. I just want to keep moving now. I feel like shit happens to me whenever I stop, I gotta keep doing,” it was like that old Buster Keaton movie, where the hero ended up in trouble whenever he took some time to rest. Alain smiled at the memory of that film, his eyes dropped to the floor and he took a moment to look at his foot. He tried to avoid doing that, but having decided to keep going meant facing your problems. “You just cannot convince me of that. I … no,” he shook his head, determined to stay upright in his boots. “Yeah, I’m quite resilient,” he paused. “Quite stubborn too, although I’m working on it,” he added with a chuckle. As uncommon as his request was, the hunter missed walking for hours, and a few minutes wouldn’t hurt him, would they ? He couldn’t reveal that he could see in the dark, or that he didn’t fear many animals out there aside from bugbears. The thought of running across another one terrified him, but he doubted they were roaming freely around the streets of White Crest. “I’ll be fine, I was a zookeeper back in the days,” not a lie, although it was not usually something he shared. Still Alain doubted that the vampire would make the connection.

“I get that. Although, I kind of feel like weird awful shit just happens in this town to everyone, whether you’re moving or not.” But Harsh could understand that. He had never taken well to being in any one place for too long. It all got stifling after a while. White Crest kept things interesting at least, but even it would grow stale eventually. “Hey, being stubborn isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes you need to keep going even if people tell you to stop.” That seemed decent enough advice for a patient. Though… if this guy was of the staking variety, that might not be the best thing to tell him. Harsh blinked, eyebrows rising. “A zookeeper? Where did you work? I didn’t think White Crest had a zoo.”

“That's not wrong,” the thought of leaving White Crest had crossed his mind often, but he had never been able to leave for very long. A few years ago, he left for Europe. He had been there for a little over a month. Alain told himself he would go there if he ever retired. And now that he had retired, at least from a very important part of his life, he wondered if it wasn't worth thinking about it again, a little more seriously. “I think everyone in this town has had, at least once, the urge to move out of here, including me,” the vampire's comment made him smile. He would once have had a carnivorous smile, but the one on his face was much friendlier, despite the negative assumptions he had. “I never said I worked in White Crest then,” he gave the guy a pat on the shoulder. This had to be the kindest gesture he’d ever given such a creature, and for a second, the hunter had the most puzzled look on his face, as if he expected his hand to catch fire, or the vampire to lash out. Nothing happened, however, so instead he smiled and shook his head. “I have quite a few stories to tell, although I’m not willing to share those yet.”

“You’re probably not wrong. I would be kind of concerned if there was anyone living here who hadn’t thought about leaving at least once.” The thought had crossed Harsh’s mind a number of times. It wasn’t the worst place to be a vampire, but with hunters… or maybe hunters all over, it wasn’t the best either. He blinked, the pat to his shoulder catching him by surprise. Maybe this guy was just normal after all. Or probably not a slayer at the very least. Harsh smiled easily in return. “Yeah? I’ll bet you do. Well, if you ever feel like sharing, I’m here a lot. I always like hearing a good story. If you’ve got any from that zoo, I’d love to hear them. Man, I can’t remember the last time I went to a real zoo.” He cast another glance outside, smile slipping a little. “Are you sure you don’t want help getting home? I could see if someone could cover for me for a bit and walk you there. I don’t like sending you out there alone.”

“Don’t trust anyone who claims that they don’t have a love-hate relationship with the town,” looking as a couple walked past them to go inside, Alain wondered just how many people came to the hospital everyday, and how many would have not ended up here had this town been normal. It still wasn’t natural for him to brush it away and tell himself that it no longer was his problem. How could it have been natural? Ever since he was little, he had been told that he had this debt : he had been given abilities, and in return for those, he had to protect others from this nocturnal threat that vampires posed. This had been the only thing that made him worthy to his family, and he now regretted not rejecting it sooner. Still, it only felt natural that it should happen now. Looking back at the things he had accomplished, at the rest of his life, now might have been the steadiest he had ever been. Life was not perfect, but he now had time to think about what he wanted, what HE wanted.

Approaching the doors, he wrinkled his nose as the cold wind hit his face. "You are very kind," this was more an observation than a compliment, although he'd let the vampire be the judge of that. "Quite stubborn are we?" Took one to know one. "Do as you wish, but I'm walking out. I'm sure you'll easily catch up with me if you find someone," an amused glint in his eyes, the slayer went out the door with his crutches, turning around to give the man one last look. Well, that had gone a lot better than he had expected. Speak about much ado about nothing, he told himself.

[sabineelectricheart]

Rain Over The Mediterranean

Summary: Cardia and Saint-Germain considers the synonymy between them and the sea.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2800

Notes: I mean... I suppose... Well, here it is. Hope you like it.

The first, fat raindrop landed on Saint-Germain’s nose, running along the curve of his nostril before it lost momentum on his upper lip. The second splashed against Cardia’s ear, the cold startling needles beneath her skin.

By the third drop, Saint-Germain had taken her hand to guide her dextrously back to the excessive, replicant mansion by the beach near Marseille that had been their home since the previous afternoon.

The seemingly newlywed couple was in sights of their lodgings, and so the sudden rain was not much of a concern, but it was such a shame cut their walk short. The sweet smells of the lavender plantation nearby, carried by the cooler wind from the continent and easing the dry heat of the summer morning. The soft sunlight reflected on the shore estates and the ruins down the beach.

Saint-Germain looks over to the Mediterranean. Some few miles away from the beach, it was as sunny as ever, while over them hung a grey, stormy cloud, ready to release its contents over their heads. A shame, indeed, but it might be sunny again in a couple of hours.

The young woman paused for just a moment, casting a final look toward the brilliant orange of the morning sun. It was rare for it to rain in the Mediterranean Summer, but she pinned that up to a good omen. Ancient men, like her husband, usually interpreted rain as a gift from up above, and she liked that thought.

As the brunette watched, the surface of the seawater became speckled with rain, the agitation beneath suggesting that more was brewing than a simple morning shower. She turned away to follow Saint-Germain, wondering if these were the sights that had earned her husband’s love for the sea.

Their pace quickened as the skies continued to pour forth with increasing vigour. Her thin slippers, tugged back on in haste, did little to aid her in gaining traction through the loose sand beyond the shoreline. Cardia lurched forward; the shadows of the jacket Saint-Germain held over her head blocking her view of uneven path. His arm was at her side in a moment to catch her.

“I’m well, Saint-Germain.” She promised, giggling at the foolish image they would have made had anyone else been at the seaside to observe them.

“We’re nearly there.” He encouraged as they came within sight of their temporary abode.

He flung open the door and ushered her in, stopping to flick the excess water from his jacket onto the ground outside. When he had finished, he stepped back, latching the door and casting his eye around the darkening mansion.

“It looks as though we may be stuck inside for a while, unfortunately.” Cardia surmised as she brushed the wet curls from her eyes. “But I cannot fault the company.”

“Nor I.” The affection in his voice produced a shiver that had nothing to do with the inclement weather.

The dampness of her clothes finally settling against her skin, Cardia drew close to the fire Saint-Germain was stoking back from embers.

“We should dry much faster if we change out of our wet things.” He advised with a quick glance back at her. “I would not want you to become sick in our little escapade.”

She nodded at the welcome suggestion, fingers already working at the ties of her dress. Still, she watched him as he worked the coals, divided focus slowing movements that should have come easily.

He added a log to the fire, the flames crackling greedily to consume the new wood. In the glow, his eyes gleamed emerald as she stepped nearer. Three years of marriage, and her heart still raced every time she saw the way he looked at her when they were alone together. She hoped it always would.

Saint-Germain joined her in standing, his posture straight and still as he allowed her to assist in his process of undressing. Cardia’s deft fingers made short work of his shirt, tugging out the layers of fabric that had been tucked down the front of his trousers.

“You’re soaked through.” She noted quietly, wondering how many times he had been similarly drenched without a place of retreat.

How many times had he gone without someone to care for him? I will see that he lacks for nothing, she promised as her hand lingered over the well-known scars on his chest.

He covered her fingers with a large hand, dragging them gently from the puckered skin at his side. His lips skimmed the knuckles with the lightest of kisses before he returned the hand and directed his attention to the fastenings at her shoulders.

She watched his face as he worked, feeling his efforts come to fruition in the loosening neckline. Idly, she wondered whether there was anything which his hands were not skilled in doing. If there were, she had yet to discover it.

Moments later, he eased the shift over her head, leaving her bare before him.

“You are beautiful, my Cardia.” He breathed out.

With a tender smile, he extended a hand to cup her cheek. Cardia stood on her toes, offering her mouth for a kiss.

His lips tasted of wind and rain, wakening a heat deep within her that even the cool of autumn could not steal away. It was only with some effort that she pulled back to gather their clothes from the floor. While she arranged their wet things by the fireplace, Saint-Germain stepped into a dry set of trousers.

“Perhaps…” She began, wicked thoughts running through her mind while catching his movement in the corner of her eye. “Perhaps we should wait for these to dry. There is little reason for us to dress fully now. No one is here to see us, and it will be some time before we are able to return outside.”

He laid aside the shirt, but his fingers still worked to fasten the buttons of his pants. “I would not object to that.”

Task complete, Cardia crossed the room, winding her arms around her husband’s waist and pressing her cheek to his bare skin. Even out of the wet clothes, she was far from warm. A faint shiver crossed her shoulders as Saint-Germain’s arms circled them.

“You may doubt my words, repetitive as they certainly are, but tea is very good for warming up on such mornings.” He suggested, stepping aside to pull a quilt from the bed.

Returning to her, he wrapped the blanket around her petite frame.

“Indeed, it is.” She agreed, clutching at the fabric. “But I am not in the mood for tea. I suppose I would rather to keep you warm myself, instead.”

The blond man chuckled. “I would not object to that either.”

Her lips pursed slightly at the quiver of humour in his tone.

While he began boiling water, Cardia took stock of the supplies they had brought with them from his London estate. Impey and Lupin had done them a great favour, not only preparing days’ worth of food in advance, but including all of the things they might need to cook for themselves as well.

She thought that Victor, too, might have had something to do with the state of the provisions, especially when she located a little pot of the honey that they both favoured, which had fallen to the bottom of one basket. She ought to remember to thank him upon their return to London.

Setting it aside, she replaced the contents of the basket, a task that took much longer with one hand occupied in holding up her blanket. When she had finished, she sat and watched her husband’s capable form over the fire. Even as they had adjusted to the roles of their new life, moments like these reminded her just how quickly the familiar had become foreign.

“Is this what you imagined when you wished for a vacation by the sea?” She inquired softly, pulling the corners of the quilt into a knot at her breast.

He turned from the fire momentarily in order to address the question. “You already know that life with you is much more than I ever could imagine, Cardia.”

“That does not quite answer my question.” She protested, falling quiet for some moments before she attempted it again. “Do you never wish for a simpler life? A human life, with a human woman, with little business with Salvation or the British government or the European Concert?”

Saint-Germain withdrew the boiling pot and set it beside the fire to steep. Contemplative, he rocked back onto his heels.

“Cardia, when I was a human, my life was painful, miserable and short. When I met Trismegistus, when I was allowed to want for the first time, I wished for an ordinary happiness. Our life may be far from what I classify as ordinary, but I would do nothing to change our fortunes, because ordinary or otherwise, I am deliriously happy.” He urged with a thin smile. “Especially when we may rely on our friends to help arrange for such disappearances as this one. With them to assist us, I doubt that this will be the last time we escape to the sea together.”

Her legs scratched against each other as she pulled them up under the chair.

"I hope that it is not. Though I’m not sure I expected this particular excursion to be quite so dirty.” She observed, rubbing the salt and sand that had dried on her calves.

"Was it not worthwhile to walk barefoot through the waves?” Saint-Germain poured her a measure of tea and sat across the table.

She thanked him and took a small sip, mulling over the question he had posed. “It was worth seeing the sea at your side.”

He watched closely to gauge her response. “You do not like it on its own?”

She shrugged. “I’m not certain what I think of it. At the moment, I find it rather frightening, and there’s rather more sand than I imagined. I’m afraid I’ll be finding it in my shoes for months to come, and that part of life by the sea does not seem very appealing.”

He laughed gently at her complaint, green eyes shimmering with his amusement. “I am not fond of it either, but it is a necessary evil to enjoy the ocean.”

"Then tell me what it is like to be at sea.” She suddenly demands. “What is it about the water that you love?”

Even beyond the sand, her own first impression had been less favourable. She could smile as the foamy waves lapped her feet, but the thought of being stranded in the midst of the wide ocean made her shudder. It was too large, too uncertain for her to understand his great affection for it.

He chuckled once more. “That would be a very long story indeed.”

Thunder boomed, a tremor reverberating throughout the small mansion.

“This seems a good morning for long stories, dear. We won’t be anywhere until lunchtime.” Cardia tightened her hold on the fine porcelain cup and took a draught of the liquid.

“Very well.” The aristocrat concurs.

“But if I am to keep you warm, then I must join you for the telling.” She stood, barely catching the edge of the quilt before it slipped from one shoulder.

A smile flittered across his face at her brief struggle.

“I do not think this chair is large enough for both of us.” His eyes darted from her to the opposite wall. “Perhaps we should sit before the fire, where we may both be warm.”

Tea in one hand, Cardia rose to the balls of her feet and pivoted toward the place he had indicated. Her tiny steps beckoned him to follow, but he outpaced her easily. Once there, he sat a distance from the flames, legs outstretched so that she was able to easily climb into his lap.

She untied the blanket and spread it around both pairs of shoulders. Saint-Germain’s hands held her secure, arms encircling her slender waist once everything had been properly situated. She sighed with contentment as her bare skin settled against his broad chest.

“This is very pleasant.” Cardia mused, slipping one arm outside of the alcove to retrieve her tea.

The blond nods. “It is, perhaps, too pleasant. If we sit like this for very long, I may be in danger of forgetting the sea altogether.”

With a titter, Cardia slipped from his lap to the floor. “I’ll return once you’ve finished your story.”

Saint-Germain leaned down to kiss her crown, one arm stretching behind to draw her close. Heads together, he began to speak.

For nearly an hour, he told her of the great empty expanse; of the freedom of movement to anywhere in the known world; of the moonlit nights with calm, open seas; of the ceaseless rocking that enticed sleep such as no other force could bring; of the bliss of seeing land at long last after a hard voyage. Countless descriptions and tales that Cardia endeavoured to commit to memory.

She listened intently as he spoke, and while her own feelings toward the sea remained unchanged, she thought, perhaps, that she could understand his better.

By the time his words had reached their end, the roaring fire had dwindled and they had long since given up their seated positions in order to lie beside one another atop the quilt.

"Has your curiosity been satisfied?” He asked finally, voice low against the patter of rain above them. “Or is there anything else you wish to know?”

She considered the sum total of all she knew, both from his words and from her own observations. “Just this. The sea that I have observed is nothing like what your stories describe. Even between this morning and yesterday evening, it is completely altered. What is there to love about something that is so full of changes? How can there be any comfort in returning to something that is never the same?”

"Aye.” He agreed readily. “It changes often. But I think I love it more because of the changes.” His gaze dropped to the blanket beneath them as he wove his thoughts together.

Cardia gave him room to think, lazily combing through the white silk of his hair that were still damp from their previous drenching. When his eyes returned to her face, she was startled to see the depth of emotion held within.

“It is rather like the way I love you, though my love for you is much greater.” Saint-Germain swallowed, the lines in his face softening as he continued. “Cardia, you have altered a great deal since you first arrived at London. Few would recognize in you now the same unfeeling, detached doll that Lupin brought back from somewhere in Wales. Yet, I love you for many of the same reasons that I loved you then. In the months that have passed, I have seen blossom many sides of you, but there is not a single one I do not love.”

Saint-Germain looked on her meaningfully, and she felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. Throat thickening, Cardia rolled onto an elbow to get a better look at him. He gazed back with honesty and adoration, and she wondered what on earth she could have done to deserve such complete devotion from so generous a man.

"My love for you is constant, Saint-Germain.” She breathed, brushing her fingers along the length of his strong jaw, “even through the changes.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, the thick muscles rippling under her touch. “And it is the deepest love that I have ever known.” She traced a line of kisses to his neck, pausing at the nape tenderly.

When she pulled away, he turned to his side and drew her into his arms. She melted against him readily, every vein alight with desire to show him her promises were true.

He searched her face, though her features could hardly be discerned in the dim light. “You are the greatest change to my life, my Cardia, but the greatest constant too. I would not trade this life with you for all of the dreams and stories my mind has ever devised. I have the sun itself. How could I desire more?”

The fire before them had faded to embers, yet the flames within Cardia burned bright as she met his lips in a passionate kiss.

A shock of thunder rumbled, and rain beat heavily against the panes of the small window. But neither thought of the weather, or even the sea that lay outside. They did not even ponder the future changes which waited for them beyond the mansion walls. Instead, they found joy in one thing they knew would never waver.

*_*_*_*_*

Code: Realize Masterlist