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toxicjayhoe · 3 years

Text

We don’t have to dance

Explicit

Shinso / Reader(OC)

M / F

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

I mean there's some plot in my head but y'all don't get to see that haha

Cunnilingus

Blow Jobs

Hitoshi is a good boy

he asks for consent

Brainwashing

Oral Sex

Vaginal Sex

Unprotected Sex

Aged-Up Character(s) obviously

Light Dom/sub

Choking

Ahegao

Smut

He glanced across the overcrowded room, observing acquaintances and strangers as they socialized and sipped their drinks, swaying to the beat of the music. The open space of the hero office had been rearranged as to accommodate as many individuals as possible for this year’s Christmas celebration.

Shinso had never really been the type who partied, but he thought it was important to attend, if only for appearances sake. As a new Pro-hero, he believed it was a necessity to demonstrate he was a team player.

He took a mouthful of his cider, feeling it burn down his throat as he swallowed the effervescent drink. He never really drank either, but he enjoyed a nice glass every once in a while.

The couch he rested on was quite comfortable, he thought to himself as he settled back into it. He was more than content in just sitting here all evening until he believed it was acceptable to leave. He wasn’t interested in idle conversation about the weather or whatever these people were gossiping about to one another.

However, the universe had other plans for him it seemed, as Denki quickly approached him, shots in hand.

“Hey bestie, down this and let’s go get some ladies.” The blond handed the liquor towards him, urging him to take it, waggling his eyebrows and winking.

Shinso sighed, ignoring the offending alcohol currently being offered to him. “What ladies, Denki? We are at the bottom of the food chain here.”

“My dude, it’s a Christmas office party. Have you never seen a movie in your life? Things always get spicy at Christmas office parties.” He cackled, downing one of the shots and throwing the empty cup behind him. He pulled another from behind his back.

The purple haired man made a face, before chuckling quietly. “Where did that one come from?!”

Denki shrugged, shoving the two shots into Shinso’s hands. He rolled his purple eyes, giving in to maybe the only true friend he had.

He brought them to his lips, one after the other, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and placing the empty receptacles on the table by him. Of course Denki had chosen peppermint schnapps.

“I’m only going to be your wingman, and only because you could really use the support.” He said with a bored tone to his voice as he pushed himself up from the sofa. Denki whooped enthusiastically, rushing off to where Shinso could only assume the ladies were.

He unhurriedly trailed after him, making his way between the gatherings of individuals, being vigilant as to not come into contact with anyone as he passed them. He wasn’t fond of strangers to start, much less being touched by them in any way.

He was terrific at communicating when he was obligated to, which was merely when he was required to use his Quirk. He still had issues with it and, even now, citizens still told him it was better suited for a villain, but he’d come to terms with not being able to please everyone. As long as he did a respectable job as a pro-hero and protecting the populace, then he would be happy.

Once he finally made it beyond the crowd and to where Denki had run off to, said man was being rejected by yet another woman.

Jaw clenched as not to show any suggestion of a smirk, he clapped the blond on the back in sympathy.

“You’re aiming way too high, Denki. And you try too hard.” He said simply, unsure if it was the right thing to say or not. Nonetheless, the shorter man smiled up at him, seemingly undeterred by yet another loss.

“Let’s go play foosball!” Denki hollered, forcing him in the direction of the tabletop game, stealing two additional beverages as a waiter walked by them.

They played a few rounds, one versus the other. Shinso loathed to admit it, but he had struggled to keep up with the innate talent Denki appeared to have at the game.

Just as he began to genuinely start enjoying his night, Denki sprinted off, declaring he needed to piss. Shinso took the moment alone to survey his surroundings once more, taking in the sight of people’s inhibitions all but forgotten as alcohol started influencing their behaviors. He took another sip of his own drink, finishing it in one gulp.

If he was being honest with himself, he was also starting to feel the affects drinking had on his body and on his mind.

He leaned onto the wall behind him, arms crossed on his chest as Denki came into sight, marching towards him, arms intertwined with the two women at his sides.

One of them he recognized as Jiro, whom he was relatively convinced Denki had a major crush on. The other, however, he could not recall ever having the pleasure of meeting.

“Shinso, don’t be rude, say hi!” He rolled his eyes before nodding silently at them both. “Good enough. Okay! Me and Jiro against the two of you. Let’s do this.”

/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*

Shinso was sure Denki had let him win for some odd reason his mind could not fathom.

As the two of them argued over why they lost the game, he cleared his throat, offering his hand to the shorter woman by his side

“I’m Shinso. Hitoshi Shinso. It’s nice to make your acquaintance”

She smiled, giving him a firm handshake.

“I know who you are, Brainwashing Hero.” His eyes widened, astonished anyone, let alone an alluring young woman, would know who he was. Was she not frightened of his quirk like everyone else had been? “My name is Aruna Ai.”

He heard himself hum before the words spilled from his mouth like word vomit.

“The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.” He finished, taking a deep breath after such a long-winded sentence.

“Did you just quote Deng Ming-Doa’s Everyday Tao: Living with Balance and Harmony at me?” Aruna stared at Shinso, brows furrowed as her lips quirked up.

His hand found the back of his neck as heat rose to his cheeks in mortification, unable to look directly at her.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that came from, heh.” He continued to look everywhere but her, feeling crushingly stupid. Aruna chuckled, placing the palm of her hand on his muscular arm and squeezing.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m already a fan.” An overwhelming sense of calm overtook him then, like something paranormal was causing him to relax.

“What’s your quirk?” He blurted. He scratched his skull, once again mortified that he seemed to not have a filter tonight.

She squeezed his arm again before dropping her hand to her side, smiling brightly up at him.

“Well aren’t you just the most perceptive man?” She crammed her hand into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of her shoes, seemingly deep in thought.

He patiently watched her.

“I can manifest emotions in others if I have direct skin contact with them. My power varies depending on the cycle of the moon though.”

He felt his eyebrow arch in curiosity. It was sort of similar to his own quirk, when he thought about it.

“That is truly fascinating, Aruna.”

She huffed and laughed. “Not as fascinating as being able to brainwash someone. I wonder what it feels like.”

“Care to find out?” He couldn’t believe the words leaving his own mouth.

“I would love to.” No hesitation in her voice, only a slight blush stained her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed as he stared into hers. “Are you sure?” His voice low.

She rolled her eyes “Of course I’m sure, Shin-“ Her eyes glazed over as her mind went blank.

“Follow me.” Came the command.

Although she had no control over her own movements, her mind was still aware enough to realise what was happening.

She was led across the crowds and through the halls. He silently guided her into an unoccupied office, small cots lined up on the walls.

He released his hold on her mind, allowing her a moment to turn around and leave, if she so chose.

His gaze never left her face, eyes concentrated on the way her cheeks darkened. Mortified, no doubt.

They remained standing, unmoving for long moments. Hesitation welled in him for a second, unsure of himself. Aruna’s breathing came out in a sigh as she strode forward, toward him in quick steps. When she reached him, her hands grasped his clothed shoulders as she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, raising her lips to meet his in a sweet kiss.

Purple eyes widened at the unexpected contact.

“I just… wanted to do that of my own accord first.” She whispered as she stepped back, breathing heavier than moments before, smile on her lips.

“You look at me like you think I’m someone else.” He said simply.

Her eyes narrowed, a look he could not read painting her features.

“How do I say this… We don’t have to talk, and we don’t have to dance around it, we don’t even have to be friends. I’m attracted to you…I want you to brainwash me. And…” She paused as Shinso slowly approached her.

Eyes peered into hers, pupils dilated. “And?”

“And… I want you to use me as you wis-“ Her mouth hung open, no words coming out as Shinso gained control once again. If she could smirk, she would have.

“Come here.” Her feet pulled her to where he was now sat on one of the cots.

Large hands grasped hers. The softness of her fingers in comparison to his own, rough and calloused, felt like heaven.

Shinso had never done anything like this before and the thrill of it all made blood rush through his entire body, his heart hammering in his chest.

He looked up into her blank eyes, dick twitching against his slacks at the sight of her. He couldn’t wait to see her ruined by him.

He couldn’t get enough of her soft skin, gliding his fingers up her arm and to her neck while the other hand drifted lower, reaching under her dress.

A devilish smirk formed on his face when his fingers tightened around her throat, a soft gasp leaving her mouth.

Hiking her dress up, he dug his fingers into her hip, pulling Aruna closer, lowering his head to kiss just above his tight grip.

Teeth grazed against her skin, eliciting soft moans from above as he nipped and kissed and sucked, marking her. He hoped the resulting bruises would last weeks, reminding her of tonight.

Despite that most thought that, while under the influence of his quirk, his victims couldn’t remember what they’d done under Shinso’s control, it all depended if he wanted them to remember or not.

He most definitely wanted Aruna to remember tonight, needed her to feel and see everything he would do to her and have her do to him.

“Spread your legs.”

A hum left his lips as she did what she was told, legs far enough apart for his face to fit nicely between soft thighs.

“Good girl.” He whispered, looking up into those blank eyes, her pupils now dilated, a look of lust filling them.

He kept his gaze fixated on hers as he released her neck, hand gliding to her breast, squeezing it gently. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her body. Her soft curves and her even softer skin. The breathy moans that left her lips at every new sensation.

Perhaps she was the one ruining him.

Both hands were on her hips, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties, dragging them down her legs and around her feet. He placed them in his pant pocket. They were his now.

As he pressed his nose to her, he inhaled deeply, a groan ripping through his throat. Absolute heaven, the scent of her driving him crazy with need.

His tongue met her folds, licking up to her clit before bringing it into his mouth and sucking. He felt her knees go weak, the only thing holding her up straight now were his strong hands at her hips.

She tasted absolutely amazing. Shinso’s eyes squeezed shut as he devoured her. He was sure his fingers were leaving bruises. He hoped they were.

Leaving her pussy for air was torture, but he could feel his control over her slipping as he got lost in the taste of her.

“I’m going to let go of your hips now. Don’t fall.”

He wiped his chin of her juices with the back of his hand, tongue darting out to gather the droplets on his lips. He pressed his palm down onto his cock, needing some kind of touch to release the pressure building inside him.

Nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, releasing his cock from its confines. Aruna glanced down, eyes lidded.

Her own tongue slipped from her mouth, licking her lips at the sight of him slowly stroking his cock, tired eyes locked on hers.

“Come taste me.” The commanding tone sent noticeable shivers down her spine, clearly trembling where she stood.

She could feel herself resisting the request, his control wavering as pleasure began to overtake his senses.

“ Obey me.” Aruna’s knees hit the floor, palms resting on his thighs as she positioned her mouth over him.

One calloused hand cupped her cheek, guiding her lower, the other gripping the base of his cock.

The sound that rumbled through his chest was unholy as she took as much of him into her warm mouth as she possibly could, hallowing her cheeks the instant the head hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck. Aruna” His fingers fisted into her hair, staring down at her as drool dribbled down her chin. He gently pushed her down on his cock, face fucking her softly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but fuck if her wet tongue across the underside of his dick didn’t feel like paradise.

She moaned around him as he thrust into her mouth, sending delightful vibrations through him, dick twitching in her mouth. He was losing control. He could feel it.

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and- he was sure it would be the end of him. This girl. How did he get so fucking lucky?

Aruna’s fingers dug into his thighs as she came up for air, his quirk weak enough from the pleasure to break out of it.

His eyes widened as she quickly rose to her feet, pushing his chest down as she settled onto his lap, sitting on his cock, sinking down on it in one swift movement.

Strong hands grasped her hips once more, furiously fucking up into her. Every moan from her lips sent heat through him.

“You like that, baby?” He asked, voice hoarse and husky.

“Y-yes. Hah. You feel so good, Hitosh-“ Her pussy tightened around him, losing herself to his control once more.

“Silly girl. Stick your tongue out for me, and don’t stop fucking yourself on my cock.”

Her eyes blank again, tongue sticking out, drooling down her face. It was absolutely stunning. So fucking beautiful, and it was all for him. He had never seen anything so breathtaking.

He stared into her face, bringing his thumb to her clit, gently pressing circles into it and watched as she shuddered, grinding on him harder, breaths coming out unevenly, whimpers escaping her lips every time he bottomed out in her.

“You’re so beautiful. Aruna. Fuck. The way I fit inside you, like we were meant to be like this.”

The words left his mouth, any shame he might have felt discarded, pleasure overwhelming his every sense. She looked amazing, tasted amazing, smelt amazing. She was perfect.

He grasped her throat again, other hand on her ass as he met her thrust for thrust. She was close, he could feel it in the way her walls clenched around him, in the way her eyes crossed, tongue still lolling from her delicious little mouth.

“Come for me, my lovely moon. “

She stilled above him, walls clenching tight one more time as her insides fluttered around him, sending him over the edge, cock spurting deep inside her, a growl leaving his throat, fingers tightening painfully around her neck.

She collapsed against his chest as he released control over her, breathing heavily in the crook of his neck as he gently caressed her back and played with her hair, calming her as she came down from her orgasm.

Shinso adjusted her dress to cover her body. His heart felt full for what seemed like the first time in his life.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Aruna.”

He felt her smile against his neck.

There was no point in saving the world if it meant losing the moon.

Art by Me

#hitoshi shinso #shinsou x reader #bnha shinsou #mha fic #shinsou smut #shinso x you #shinso #shinso simp #boku no hero academia #mha fanart #shinso fanart #hitoshi shinso fanart #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero smut #happy birthday shinso

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Hope (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Ethan and Pooja's thoughts before and after the first time Pooja goes to his home (Set in Book 1, Chapter 8)

A/N: Never thought I would be able to complete this, but here we are! Honestly it is a mess, but I still hope it is an enjoyable mess😃

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

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.7K

Category: Kinda angsty (??)

Trope(s): And there’s some good ol’ Pining

Warnings: None that I noticed

Ethan:

There was a strange calm in the sky, the moon sparkling milky white. Seconds seemed to drift slowly with gentle ripples, like rose petals floating on a calm pond.

And amidst this ataraxy, was a restless, defeated heart. Every pass of a second seemed like a stab in his already wounded soul, breaking him, making him lose in the game which he thought he had mastered.

The red glare of the traffic light felt like a warning but he was too tired to notice.

He let his mind recall the moments the day brought, throat tightening at one and mind filling with surprise at the other.

How easy it was to tell her about Naveen.

As if it wasn't a conscious decision, just him uttering words prophecied. And how naturally she had offered to help him.

As if they were words practised. Repeated a hundred times in front of a mirror.

In a time when one hand was slowly leaving him, another one was gently lending hers.

Never in years had he thought he would be this enamoured by an intern.

Every word she uttered, every task she accomplished, every case she handled. It felt like she was climbing a staircase of differences, slowly cracking the image of doe-eyed amateurs idolizing him.

An image that had become a constant in front of him.

It was a ploy of the universe, surely, that had twisted the circumstances to be like they were now. Otherwise what would have had the power to unite three generations of mentors and mentees together like that in a single motion?

As the sand from the sand clock kept drifting away slowly, he started to arrange the strings of thoughts in his mind into a neat yarn, all ready to knit the cardigan of recounting the disaster that he had stored like a dried leaf from fall in between yellow pages of an old journal.

There was a chilling silence around him, even if the traffic shrieked chaos outside.

It made him second guess everything, making him think as if he was supposedly making the biggest mistake of his life.

The glare of red seemed to get stronger, almost blinding, painful. He tried to place convincing statements, that he was just letting a doctor know the nitty-gritty of a medical case seemingly impossible to solve. So that he can dream of that ray of sunshine filtering through large boulder-like grey clouds.

So that he can hope.

And every time it struck him that he had been choosing to look at that sparkle instead of the black gloom spread all around because she was in this with him, he felt a numb spread through his soul.

He knew he was letting her in, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Rather, there was nothing he wanted to do about it.

It frightened him, this closeness, this letting go of a cloak of seclusion that he had been wearing for years now.

Why did life have to make him stand at crossroads, make a choice he didn't want to?

It felt as if somebody had made a path of clouds for him to reach the sun, and every time he took a step, he fell. He had never complained about it, living silently in the piercing darkness that held him within its confines.

But this one while, he wanted to shriek. He wanted to complain. He wanted to go against every force of nature that stopped him. Because this time it wasn't just a wish.

It was a need for him.

Unbeknownst to him, the lights flickered and change positions. The red seized to exist and the green came into existence, and it was a glare from behind him that finally made him notice the change.

Barely stopping the overflowing dam of heartfelt emotions, that had finally managed to break the walls he had built piece by piece, with precision, over the years, he rushed past blurry sky-risers, taking a step towards whatever destiny had in store for him.

-----

Pooja:

When she opens her wardrobe, her first instinct is to go for that chic dress she bought some time ago. The thought is quickly followed by a mental forehead smack, and she goes for a casual, everyday outfit instead.

When she followed him into the area of repairs, she would have never guessed that a simple follow of curiosity would spiral into this. She, an intern, going to the home of Dr Ethan Ramsey.

She wondered if it has ever happened before & if it would ever happen again. The answer flashed before she even had the time to ponder. It was a No.

Tying her hair in a casual ponytail, she let out a yawn, a reminder of the long day at work, and of the secret that was trapped in the labyrinths of her mind, threatening to come out anytime.

Bits of the conversation that had got imprinted on the film rolls of her mind, played continuously in a loop, reminding her of the responsibility that rested on her shoulder. The trust that he had placed on her.

She couldn't let him down.

When in hushed, muted tones, he had asked her for the promise, she had given it to him without a thought. She couldn't let him break. She couldn't let him lose.

She couldn't let him down.

Like a mantra, she let the words repeat over and over and over again until they got etched in her heart. And then, with an attempt to centre herself, she walked on to the destination she was supposed to reach.

-----

Ethan:

The cool for the air-conditioning unit covered the entire area, as the clock pleasantly ticked in a monotonous harmony.

The blue ocean of his eyes was in turmoil, waves of reason and feelings crashing against each other, ravaging a storm. The ship of his stood through it all, but he was afraid that any moment now, it would reach its breaking point.

In the distance was a clearing in the sky. A stray ray of gold attracted him, and he went on, never stopping for once. It was her presence.

He couldn't tell if they were words knitted with excruciating perfection with yarns of her heart, or a piece of cloth she had bought and handed over to him, neatly so that he doesn't notice.

But for once, he wanted to believe in the words her mellifluous voice scribbled in the air. For once, he wanted to hold on to that ray, which the clouds of fate threatened to hide.

For once, he wanted to hope.

It felt as if his search was over. A wind had finally gained the power to carry away the blanket of misery and pain that had been surrounding him for years now.

Maybe the forces of nature had finally decided to grant him the wish he made to a shooting star when he was a kid and gifted him with the most precious treasure anyone could ever ask for.

All she did was place a hand on his thigh, but it felt as if she had dragged him from the darkness to the bright sunshine, holding his hand in hers, making him relish the soft touches of flowers petals and rustle of hair along with the gentle breeze.

Is this how it felt to slowly travel through the meadows of affection, gathering flowers of trust, hope and respect to make the bouquet of his heart? One that he had given to her without telling her anything, today?

Is this how it felt to fall in love?

He closed his eyes as if to stop the circle of thoughts that had taken a direction he had been avoiding for a long time without his permission. The gardens his soul was paying a visit to, was dangerous tranquillity, a threatening calm.

And he was afraid, that one wrong step could burn down the entire world of two lives that had got intertwined without each other's knowledge.

He was not ready to take the risk.

-----

Pooja:

The pages of her journal rustled in neglect as she continued twirling the pen in her hand.

She was supposed to be writing in the details of this day, but instead all she could do was recollect fragments of all the conversations she had had during the past hours. A few tendrils of her hair playfully danced in the wind, as she got up and went to stand on the balcony.

She let the milky white shimmer dress her, soothe her as the future stood in a tangled yarn of uncertainty, too difficult to reach.

There was a pain getting etched in her heart, as it sobbed silently for her mentor and grand mentor. Was there really no way out?

A quick whisper from the demon of self-doubt told her that if The Ethan Ramsey could not solve the mystery, how could she, a doe-eyed intern?

She shook her head as if to throw the thought away. This wasn't the time of comparing whose skill set was better than whose. If she had dared to awake a lamp of hope in Dr Ramsey's heart, how could she give up on attempts herself?

In tumultuous times, when there were more chances of defeat than success, she wanted to bear the flambeau of hope that can light even the darkest of nights. She wanted to be the force that would make him rethink his abilities and try again after every failure.

She wanted to be the picture that could fill his heart with hope.

And she knew that it would take every ounce of her strength. Keeping the situation a secret from friends who had always had her back. Always looking at the bright side. Always bearing optimism.

When she had uttered "Promise" to him in the hallway in the morning, she knew what she was signing up for. This time, she would have to be the strength of herself and him. She would have to be the ear he could always whisper to. The shoulder he could always lay his head on. The hand he could always hold when he felt like letting go and giving up.

But she was ready to give it all. No matter how threatening, no matter how dangerous.

She was ready to take the risk.

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

Tags🤎 (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo @cordonianruby @gryffindordaughterofathena

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305 @kit-rookie-princess

Open Heart (All fics and edits): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010 @headoverheelsforramsey @estellaelysian @shanzay44 @mysticalgalaxysstuff

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

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nursegracecreates · 3 years

Note

Hi! So I asked you and you said you were still doing creepypasta matchups, so I was wondering could you match me up with one of the creepypastas.

My name is Evelyn, my friends call me Grammarly because I constantly fix their grammatical errors, and this just came to them. I go with she/her pronouns, and I had(or still have but whatever) mild depression and anxiety before due to bullies. I'm straight but don't mind gay or bi people(they're people just like us I don't see the difference). I am a Cancer sun, Sagittarius moon and Gemini ascendant(rising). I am an ambivert, very introverted around people that I don't know but very extroverted around people that I'm familiar with.

I am Chinese and I am considered just average for kids my age. I have natural bronze-brown hair that is an inch or two past my shoulders with chocolate brown eyes. I am considered quite thin and short(my friends are total giants). My current goal is to grow taller since I am always laughed at for my height, which I hate.

I've gotten ear piercings at 10 years old and I like to wear black or darker colors, since stains don't show up that much and they make me feel secure and hidden from everyone's opinions.

I am sort of like halfway between the straight As kid in my class and the kid who plays games and never listens. I don't really like to follow the rules, but I don't like making mistakes or getting low grades, because when I was young a mistake meant punishment. I consider myself to be slightly two faced, being nice and sweet to my friends and aggressive and mean to the people I don't like. I am quite sensitive and always overthink small things. I control my mouth and emotions quite well, but sometimes my mouth gets loose and I say things I don't mean. I am afraid to be alone because it makes me feel invisible to others, which I don't like. I am told that I am the "glass-half-empty" type of person, and I tend to take things the wrong way.

My mother has told me my entire life that I am a "cold blooded", "heartless" person, so I'll say that I am kind of chaotic neutral. I am a Ravenclaw, and when you work with me for an assignments, you can bet I will be killing you when you get me a grade lower than A. I don't like to listen to long lectures but I prefer to get my information from books.

My favorite color is black and most of my clothing are black but since my family doesn't want me to wear black all the time(It means death or bad luck in our culture) and always force me into wearing brighter colors, which I hate. I won't call myself stylish because most of the clothing that I wear are more comfortable than stylish, like hoodies and sweaters. My element is water, and I love the ocean and its inhabitants, since it makes me feel calm. I like water-related elements because water can take on many forms and appereneces, but still the same thing through and through. I also like the fact that water can be calm and elegant at some points, but also could be raging and furious at another.

I like music, art and literature. I depend on logic for a lot of things, because it is the most straightforward way to understand things in my opinion. Music and Art are ways for me to let go of myself and expresses my emotions the way that I want, since I am always expected to be "better than others" and "smarter than average", which I really don't like. I am strongly against comparing things or people to each other because I believe that everyone is unique in their own way, and is never "better than others". I play the piano and the violin, I take Latin dance classes, I am in an orchestra and I take tennis and art classes. I don't necessarily like all of the classes that I take, but it's not like I have a choice, so yeah. I like to write, sing, draw and read a lot and these hobbies have been with me since I was a young girl

I hate taking road trips or just trips in gerenal, because I don't have enough space to burn the excess energy that I have, and sometimes it causes me insomnia for me. I eat quite a lot, and move around a lot so it doesn't make me fat or something like that. My favorite animals are wolves and my favorite food is salad.

I'm really sorry for making you read a 769 worded description about me, please forgive me if this took up too much of your time🥺.

It's okay! I knew what I was getting into with matchups, and I don't mind reading a lot. The more I know, the better I can match you! I did a romantic matchup, but if you want platonic or rivals, let me know. I hope to see you around more, don't be afraid to flood my ask box, even if it's just chatting (also prepare for a lot of Toby content)

Nathan the Nobody

Forgive me if I'm a little rusty, it's been a few months

So I was on the fence, stuck between Nathan and Eyeless Jack

But ultimately, I went with Nathan

I feel like you two are a lot alike, plus Nathan just doesn't get much attention

Nathan Maxwell Lux

Fic: "Nobody Saw It Coming" @ivydarkrose

Gemini

INTP

Conditions: psychosis, intermittent explosive disorder, heterochromia iridium (left, blue right, green)

Okay so I read your mom says that you're a cold person, but a lot of people mistake someone not being cheerful or perky enough as stoicism or coldness

This is one of the reasons you and Nathan would get along.

He doesn't like overly perky, cheerful people much

Loud obnoxious people are out too

I think, like you, Nathan tends to think a lot and prefers to do so in a calm, chill environment

Also your hair sounds gorgeous, and your eyes. I may be misremembering, but I think Nathan's sister was teasing him for liking her quiet friend with red colored hair. Like it might have been a different shade, but brass brown has red tones

Nathan is also an introvert.

He had like his sister and one friend

So I can see him doing things like walking you to class, your music and dance lessons, practices, etc

Nathan used to do that kind of thing for his sister, so I'm sure he'd enjoy the time with you

Nathan is very protective

And he dreads something happening to his loved ones, so he'll want to be around you as much as possible

Which remedies your not liking being alone

Nathan always wants to see you, so you'll never be invisible

Nathan works out to keep his mind clear, if he sits for too long, his anger builds to unsafe levels

So I'm sure he'd love working out with you, giving you pointers, helping you practice your Latin dance stuff

I'm glad you like water because Nathan prefers to hear the sound of water dripping after losing his sister

It comforts him

I can see Nathan hunting down your bullies and making them miserable

He wouldn't kill them

But the mind games Nathan plays would make them wish they were dead.

I think Nathan would be encouraging of your music and art

He'd like it when you sing for him because it makes the weight of everything on his shoulders seem a little less heavy when he hears your voice soaring through notes and scales

The same goes for when you play piano or violin for him

He just sits back and closes his tired, mixed eyes and his body sags in relaxation 😌

Also, can we talk about the size difference that would be adorable with you two?

Nathan's 6'2" in the boots he's always wearing, 6'0" barefoot

It'd be like the big, protective attack dog with his little toy breed mate

Speaking of, there goes the word protective again

You're gonna have to put in a little work keeping Nathan reigned in

He's usually really good about just sticking to his mental warfare tactics

But if things go too far, or if it all just builds up

Nathan will go berserk and there's nothing that can really stop him then.

So it's up to you to keep him calm

I'm sorry your culture views black clothing in such a negative way

I'm sure that Nathan has plenty of black hoodies and shirts you can borrow

He'd even get in the habit of bringing one with him when he meets you every morning 🖤

I hope you liked these! If you didn't or wanted something different, let me know! I, ah, did a little snooping and saw you're not 18+, which is fine! But because of that I didn't go into a lot of the physical aspects of dating Nathan, which I hope is okay. I just didn't feel comfortable assuming your consensual comfort level 😅

Reminder! Eight slots still open

#creepypasta #creepypasta matchups #nathan the nobody #creepypasta nathan the nobody #creepypasta x reader #nathan the nobody x reader #sfw

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paellaplease · 4 years

Note

revali x reader 16 (i think?) verklempt please ❤️

16. verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion

19. temerate - to break a bond or promise

pairing: revali x reader summary: falling in love is difficult when neither of you know the end is near.

Night had fallen by the time you mustered the courage to walk up to him. He watched the shining caps of your barely worn boots approach the other side of the campfire, sensing your nervousness as you awkwardly stood for a few beats, weaving and unweaving your fingers.

Either his reputation as the strongest Champion preceded him, or he was completely unapproachable. Throughout the day you would chance a look at him from across the camp, quickly averting your eyes the moment he noticed. You were part of the Princess’ research effort and therefore had some questions— that much he was certain of. Yet you’ve been dancing around him for hours, gathering the will to speak only to have it snuffed out the moment he acknowledged your presence.

Embers lifted from the flames and flickered into the night sky as you finally faced him. Revali held his tongue and gathered his patience, trying to hide the glitter in his eyes at the chance of ‘wowing’ another admirer (nevermind that you were the first).

“Champion, uh sir,” you fumbled with the titles. The question fell from your lips so quickly that his disappointment didn’t register until a second later. “What kind of flower do you favour the most?”

“...”

If the following silence wasn’t damning enough, the Rito was honestly at a loss for how to respond to such an inane question. Seriously? He was better than this. Others have made more important inquiries and had to wait weeks, if not months, for him to clear time in his busy schedule and reply.

Something like this didn’t deserve attention, let alone an answer.

“Swift violets.” He said, before rising from his seat by the fire, dead leaves crunching under the weight of him as he made a beeline straight for his tent.

Parting the canvas, he pretends to miss the earnest wave of goodbye you send his way, ignoring the static in his chest the moment his head hits the pillow. Sleep comes quickly.

A month later you meet again.

The universe seemed to adore playing tricks on him. Crossing the threshold of his home, he catches you investigating the decorative shells hanging by his kitchen window. Amusingly, you were balancing on the tips of your toes, its placement just a tad too high.

There’s something different this time around. You seemed more at ease with your surroundings, no longer jumping at every sound like a stranger in their own skin. The tips of your boots were scuffed with use, and the minute cuts and imperfections in your clothes spoke of days spent in hard work and travel.

Though some things still remain the same. He holds back his smirk when you stumble forward in surprise at the sound of your name, getting straight to business once you were safe from the risk of falling over. “I believe you’re the researcher sent to assess my progress with Vah Medoh?”

“Yes, I am.” You’re quick to snap back into stiff professionalism, he’ll give you that. The bow is low and formal, your back so still that someone could confidently rest a cup and saucer on it. An introduction spills out, followed by an apology when you realise he already knows who you are from the briefing he was given days earlier in Hyrule Castle.

The task was simple really. King Rhoam Bosphoramus wanted a full report on the breadth of Hyrule’s offensive capabilities against Calamity Ganon. From Guardians to Divine Beasts, much had been done in the past year in preparation for their greatest adversary. Now as the whirlwind began to settle, all must be accounted for, down to the last soldier.

Your report was just a drop in what will be an immense ocean of information currently being collated. But it was nevertheless quite vital. He wonders how someone like you was selected for such a task.

“Let’s do our best.” You blurt. Revali could see the millions of thoughts racing behind your eyes when you decide to break away from your military-stiff posture, raising a hand in the traditional Hyrulean greeting between strangers.

The lines of your palm stretch before him like deeply-woven thread. He glances at the wrinkles and grooves in your flesh, remembering that some mystics believe such lines could predict something as unknown as the future. He can’t help but wonder what yours might foretell.

Pressing his wing to your outstretched hand, he declared his agreement. “Of course. You’ll soon see that my ability to pilot Medoh is nothing short of perfect.”

He can’t help it. “And no questions of the botanical sort, understood?”

The sudden playful grin you give him makes all his witty quips screech to a halt, his focus trained solely on the way your face instantly lights up when it isn't held down by strict politeness or pure nervous energy. “I’ll be sure to steer clear from them this time, Champion. You have my word.”

Both of you eventually fall into a comfortable routine. Meals are made together and the chores are done quickly through combined effort. You catch on well, cottoning on to the needs of the day based on the tasks you both decide on the night before.

After breakfast he finds his gear and yours already neatly arranged by the doorway, allowing him additional time with Vah Medoh and you the chance to closely observe. The idea of training with an audience never bothered him, but knowing you followed close behind, notebook at the ready, gave him the extra push to perform just a level better than his previous.

One more arrow, one more extravagant somersault in the air. He even maneuvers Medoh to do a complete 180, reveling in the way your mouth pops open in awe as you walk across what was once the ceiling.

“... .... --- .-- / --- ..-. ..-.” The ancient machine complains, unhappy to be on their back. The Rito pilot pats the metal wall apologetically, watching as you excitedly flit from one end to the other, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Revali dreams of a cliff’s edge.

The precipice looms before him, nothing but fog and the unknown past the point where the ground stops and plummets. Revali looks at you and feels the smooth rock of the sea stone underneath his talons; hears the sound of crashing waves in the distance. Tantalising was the mystery of the void beyond.

The meaning escapes him the moment he wakes up. His pillow was warmed by the glow of the sun, making him realise that he had slept in. Morning was just beginning, and both of you had a full schedule of tasks to get through.

Diverting all his mental energy to the work ahead, he scrubs the sleep from his eyes and shakes away the odd thrill in his feathers. I’m better than this, he thinks.

His tea is still warm when he arrives at the table.

Word of the researcher shadowing him gets around quickly, it’s a small village after all. Some of the Elders glance at you in suspicion, old wounds from disagreements fought with the capital in the past lingering like dye in the water. You don’t seem to mind it, too caught up in the new sights and smells of this vibrant community built in the clouds.

The Rito children are much more enthusiastic about your presence, sharing in your curiosity by matching your questions with their own. Getting comfortable on the wooden slats of the departure deck, you happily play encyclopedia for them.

“Were you this cute back then?” You ask, watching a fledgling hop from one talon to another in imitation of a lizalfos, chasing after their friends who were the heroes in the story, at least for this round of the game.

“I was a model citizen.”

“Not true!” One of them pipes, poking him in the side with the tiniest of wings. “Mama said you were a hennish scallion.”

“You mean a hellish rapscallion,” the eldest of the bunch laughs, screaming when the ‘lizalfos’ tackles them into the ground.

Crossing your arms, you fix him with your best look of authority, shaking your head in mock disappointment. “I apologise but the council has spoken.” He raises a brow at your antics, feeling a little light headed at the adorable way your eyes water whenever you hold back your laughter. “Do you plead guilty for perjury, Mr Champion?”

Champion. The word echoes and reverberates, wrapping tightly around his brain like the blue scarf fitted snugly on his neck. He likes the way you say it, making him wonder about something else.

The words leave his mouth before he can think it through. “Revali will do just fine.”

Mirth drains from your face, replaced instead by surprise. “W-what?”

“I have a name.” He ignores the feeling of his feathers standing at the back of his neck, unclenching his jaw. Relax, he tells himself. “Better for you to call me that than to continuously mess up the titles.”

“Still working on it,” you shrug. Then, you’re gesturing for him to step into your space, leaning forward just the same like you’re about to tell him a secret. You’re close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath against his beak. He freezes, becoming hyper aware of his heart thundering against his ribcage, not daring to move even a muscle in fear of giving his thoughts away.

“Revali then,” you murmur, almost too soft for him to hear.

It was only when one of the children tugged at your sleeve, dragging you away to explain the appearance of another monster you’ve encountered in your travels, that he allows himself to breathe.

His presence had been requested at the Chief’s office, the old, war-weary Rito regretfully informing him that an urgent message had arrived. Multiple reports had noted an increase in the signs of Calamity Ganon’s resurgence. It came as no surprise, with every Blood Moon summoning more monsters from the void, an omen that something big was coming.

Letters from the Princess implied the worst: that she had exhausted nearly all avenues in awakening her sealing power. The Spring of Wisdom would be her last chance, and after that, who knows? The Champions were to meet again in three weeks at the foot of the mountain, to celebrate or to re-strategise depending on the outcome.

He was never the religious sort but by the Grace of Hylia, please let it be the former.

A headache was beginning to form as he made his way home, the idea of knocking out on his hammock for an hour or so sounding extremely appealing. The day was coming to a close, a cold breeze chilling his back as the orange heat of the evening crept its way to night.

You’re the first one to the hut this time, brown scuffed boots positioned neatly at the doorway. Revali stares at them for a second too long, wondering if you knew your time in the village was coming to an end earlier than expected. The information you had diligently collected was finally required, a little last minute if he had to comment but such were the nature of these things.

The mental image of you puffing out your cheeks in frustration, complaining that you would have to organise the data on the way back, was enough to make his mood perk up— just a tiny bit. Picturing you disgruntled and annoyed, just like when the markets ran out of your favourite produce, was easier to stomach than the thought of saying goodbye.

Leaning against the hardwood of the kitchen counter, you don’t notice him enter the room, too engrossed in the list you’re making.

It's a sight he'd seen before. If he forgot about the sobering news he'd just received, then the day would feel like any other.

The open window frames your form, making you appear like a painting come to life. Rays of light streamed from the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the slope of your nose and curve of your mouth.

Instinctively, you tilted your head to the source of warmth, instantly reminding him of the swift violets that would bloom by the Hebra cliffsides, forever seeking the sun.

Oh.

The ground had finally run out, earth and sky crashing together. There was no denying it now. Inwardly, he cursed himself, following the thought past the precipice, plunging himself deeper into the truth he'd avoided acknowledging for months. The universe truly was cruel.

It wasn’t like he didn’t see it coming. The answer was clear as day, right from the beginning of its inception.

It's the golden hour before sunset when Revali realises he’s in love with you.

Wind plays with the jade clasps of his braids as he appraises Medoh’s central control unit. He’d done this maneuver many times before, enough that he could perform it with his eyes closed.

It was your final day on assignment so shouldn’t he attempt an action that was more daring? He tried to ask. But you had rejected the proposal outright, reasoning that it suggested this would be the last time you both would meet at the top of the Divine Beast. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you smile. “I’ll visit once the fight is over.”

“Guess there’s no harm in going back to the basics,” he mused, inputting the commands before taking a step back.

Leaning against one of the columns, you watch with rapt attention as he points the Divine Beast south. The view abruptly shifts from the towering mountains of Hebra, to the grassy Tabantha Frontier, greenery spanning for miles and disappearing into the white, snowy wall of Mystathi’s Shelf.

You tilt your head up, eyes trained on the heavens. There’s a solemn intensity in the way you look at the sky, as if trying to ascertain a greater meaning to your existence in this world between the cover of clouds and the endless sea of blue. It never gives you the acknowledgement that you desperately want, no matter how long you spend asking it, but that doesn’t stop you from searching anyway.

He understands because he’s tried asking well, too many times to count. Eventually the young Rito stopped looking, opting to make an answer for himself instead.

“Do you ever get tired of it?”

Revali’s silent for a moment, mulling over his answer, before he pushes away from the control unit and starts walking towards you. “There’s no spectacle grander, and I can’t recall a time I’ve been without it. As a Rito, it was your first companion, and so long as you looked above, you were never alone.” He shook his head. “Though I guess to love something so vast and beyond our comprehension would be rather imbecilic.”

He’s running his mouth at this point, the hum of Vah Medoh loud in his ears. “... .. .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.-. .... .. .-.. -..” the beast warns, but he continues anyway.

“It’s far too foolish to pine for something that will never be in your grasp. So it would be best for me to realise that there’s no point in fighting it anymore. I mean, I should feel relieved by the concession that at least I’ll be remembered by someone other than myself.”

Your attentions were no longer directed at the sky, the intensity of your eyes piercing into him, seeing right through his poorly hidden deflections. “Are we still talking about the same thing?”

The urge to plunge himself over the edge and fly away by the sheer fuel of his embarrassment was beginning to feel very enticing. Trust his description of the sky to sound like a confession. “No,” he admits.

“Then…”

Revali thinks about telling you— considers allowing himself to become vulnerable just this once.

You’re still here, feet planted firmly on the ground, within his reach at this very moment. There was nothing he wanted more than to take that last step forward, to close the gap that perpetually rests in between you both. He imagines what it would feel like to wrap his wings around you, and believes that it would be nothing less than holding infinity.

Yet, despite this— despite everything, he sighs. “Another time.”

Almost like reading his mind, you simply nod in response, smiling as you reach out to him. He lets you take one of his wings in both your hands, the firm surety of your touch grounding him into the present. There’s no hesitation in your next words, only a promise of a thousand tomorrows lingering on the corner of your lips.

“Tell me when we meet again?”

“I swear it on my life.”

As usual, what was supposed to be a short and sweet answer became a creature of its own, demanding my full attention until it was finished. Writing in Revali’s POV is so fun, but there’s always that small bit of doubt that I can never do his character justice. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this one.

By the way! Hello to all the new visitors to my blog. Welcome yall. This is the prompt list. I may not answer straight away, but I shall do my best :)

#revali #botw #revali x reader #breath of the wild #writing prompt #paella writes

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back.

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire.

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound.

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay.

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override.

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried.

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him.

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook angst #bts series #jungkook bestfriendstolovers!au #jungkook series #constant craving #rubycoast

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 4 years

Text

101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them. Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post. Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss. Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole. The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere. Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries. He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor. Izuku tries to figure out why.

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma. He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings. Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic. Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain. he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school. Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All. All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku. They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf. And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit. I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances. izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom. Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible. Aizawa has no answers. They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work. All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless. Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods. None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through. They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another. It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did. All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor. But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor. None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them. And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might. He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor. But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives. He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up. Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might. Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might. That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes. Not do anything, just sit there. Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night. The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right. She wants it to be perfect before showing it off. But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be. Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral. He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

#mha #bnha #mha prompts #bnha prompts #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #deku #bakugou katsuki #aconstantstateoffanfiction

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mekatrio · 3 years

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anyways here are my big brain majora's mask ideas:

- an interpretation can be that hyrule is a "heaven" aka the less sensical world opposed to termina's grounded system. in granny's story of the four giants the imp (skull kid) is banished to the heavens. thats when we meet him in ocarina of time.. at some point he returns to termina with majora's mask in hand. though the period that happens gets confusing when considering whether it was skull kid or not who helped reap destruction on ikana

- this can also kinda imply that for some undisclosed reason the deku child beneath the clock tower was trying to reach heaven/hyrule. icarus flying too close to the sun? some people have also said the stone tower is a representation of the tower of babel

- also following the kingdoms of termina in clockwise order, we get mountain, canyon, swamp, ocean. adulthood, death, youth, young adult. an elegy, awakening, celebration of life, a lullaby.

- how long its been since ikana has been in ruin is also a point of interest.. or how long ikana has been around too. it definitely seems ancient, but why is it the only one in such a bad state compared to the rest? or is this how all the other kingdoms wouldve ended up like but it was link who stopped it?

- the four giants were sealed in the evil bodies(odolwa, goht, etc) so likewise the fierce deity may have been sealed in the moon itself..(or majora itself?) majora's incarnation is 'activated' in the 1st phase of the final fight through the 4 remains mask, so perhaps the fierce deity was activated by collecting all the mask scattered around termina

- the plausible connection between the 4 giants and the giant's mask also exists. did ikana precede the four giants? was the mask similar to what made the 4 giants become giants? (if they were possibly not giants to begin with) or did ikana exist after the four worlds were established and they sought after the powers of gods?

- the garo ninjas are interesting.. what does leaving behind an empty shell mean? we can see when we leave empty zora deku and goron shells, we leave behind a representation of the actual bodies we are borrowing their forms from.. so what does link's empty shell represent? the disregardment of all emotions amd experiences to serve one purpose perhaps

- also the inside of the moon.. is it majora's emulation of the skull kid and the giant's story? the kid with majora's mask is left behind as everyone else leaves. i always interpret the lunar children as a symbolization of the giants, who end up becoming trapped by those masks they wear. is the child with majora's mask embodying skull kids loneliness? or is this its own loneliness? i also wondered if this was a representation of termina's world before it split into four?

- i think the masked salesman is a representation of a metaphysical concept the same way the fierce deity is. the fierce deity embodies the buddhist idea of a kishin, then maybe the masked salesman represented a spiritual passage between worlds? maybe masks are indicative of what u are able to bring with you with your next 'incarnation', in both a religious and a song of time sense. btw the children on the moon asks u to be a masked salesman, is there anything up w that?

- also ive always thought that the game representation's of goron, deku, and zora link with the green cloth and all that were just for players and to make it less obvious and jarring that u are quite literally inhabiting a deceased person's body throughout the game. after all various times people will refer to u as the deceased person whose body u are inhabiting, the elegy of emptiness leaves behind statues reflecting the deceased person and not how u actually look in game, and no one points our ur weird green garb.. except for the beavers. which contradicts this entire idea its soo ordjbfsjcnsk

- also if we take ocarina of time's lost woods lore into accounts.. maybe link was about to become 'lost' / turn into a stalfos/skull kid/ fucking DIE, but fell into termina and was reminded of the strengths of life instead. maybe his narrowly avoided fate is the terrible fate the masks salesman is referring to?

#my meta

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

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hq!! as their zodiac signs | seijoh’s 2nd and 1st years

anon: hey! i just read your haikyu zodiac signs post and i wondered if you could do an analysis on suna rintarou, kyotani kentaro (maddog), kunimi&kindaichi, konoha, koganegawa en tendou satori.

🌷have a nice day; make sure to eat and drink something<3

a/n: ahhh i’m glad you enjoyed those !! i decided to just do an updated version with the rest of the seijoh teammates. i’ll do one for inarizaki and shiratorizawa soon so i hope it’s okay that i did it this way. ahh still considering making one for the other teams because there are so many but i hope you like this !!

check out my other hq!! as their zodiac signs posts here

kyoutani kentaro | sagittarius

kyoutani? a sagittarius? lmao no surprise there this guy just radiates so much i n t e n s e e n e r g y

his violent and brash attitude is very sagittarius, he’s usually filled with pent-up energy and he has a relatively short temper

sagittarius people are VERY competitive and that definitely shows with kyoutani. aside from volleyball he’ll find other ways to compete with people

thus leading to the incident with iwaizumi

he gets riled up easily, even by off-hand comments like ‘are you sure you can finish that bento box’ and then he’ll be gobbling food as quickly as he can

probably motivated by spite. the more you say ‘you can’t do it’ the more he’s GONNA DO IT

as a sag, i just feel like he’s not only talented when it comes to volleyball but he explores lots of different hobbies too

he probably plays other sports on the side but kyoutani really likes the idea of being good at many different things

secretly likes to experiment with music production and making some remixes (might have considered becoming a DJ at one point)

ALSO he really loves traveling just by himself

when he was younger, he probably organized a short day trip by himself by bus and as he grew older he began to have more traveling plans

his dream is to just go backpacking around a different country

but like by himself because he can’t imagine getting along with someone enough to be able to travel with them

yahaba shigeru | pisces

omg another pisces boy okay here we go (idk abt you guys but whenever i hear ‘pisces boy’ i automatically think SIMP)

also he shares a birthday with matsukawa so that’s p interesting

what i immediately get from this though is that yahaba is very much connected to his emotions and relationships with other people are very much a cause of concern for him

you could see this with the way he cares a lot about his senpais. i bet most of his motivation to perform well in games is connected to his desire for his senpais to play one more game

also SUPER loyal. pisces are just very committed people even though they’re a bit floaty with their thoughts

show’s why he’s still an oikawa fan even if oikawa is team argentina

that said, yahaba is quite unapologetic when it comes to his feelings. he doesn’t care about being too emotional or not he feels what he feels

which also means he’s not afraid to stand up to people

i get a bit of ‘wine mom’ vibes from him too which are very pisces

i bet he does calligraphy classes in secret and sneaks a drink from his dad’s alcohol stash late at night

he can be a bit intimidating but he can also be very soft

makes THE BEST playlists because his music tastes are obscure af (okay that also means he has hipster tendencies)

also has lots of little artsy hobbies and a pinterest account full of aesthetic ocean pictures

kindaichi yuutarou | gemini

oh boy another gemini

and yet i feel like his gemini traits aren’t as pronounced (unlike somebody i know *cough cough* sugawara koushi) so i think he may have a water sign as his moon

he’s really easy to get along with even though you’ve only met him for the first time and will talk about literally anything

really prioritizes getting along with people and won’t hesitate to communicate his thoughts either

that said, he doesn’t like being shut out of a conversation, like what kageyama did to him back in middle school

geminis value communication a lot so this was a no-no for him

i am willing to bet that this guy loves memorizing volleyball facts and sharing them with friends

he just loves reading trivia and when he comes across something really interesting, it will live in his head rent-free

his teammates think its adorable and don’t mind even if kindaichi sometimes repeats himself

definitely the kind of person who likes to be well-rounded with his skills too. even though he’s devoted himself to volleyball, he’s the kind of person who likes to explore different ways of playing

kunimi akira | aries

at first glance, our chill little kunimi here doesn’t really seem like an aries (i have a strong feeling that his rising is in libra or something)

he doesn’t have that intense, ‘notice me !!’ energy that i know a lot of aries people do

but one thing that is very aries about kunimi is how competitive he is and how much he hates to lose

he really likes to win but he’s very smart about how he plays the game because he knows himself and his strengths well

doesn’t look that affected when he loses but secretly he’s all >:(

the kind of person who comes up with a billion counterarguments he could have used for a debate while showering

kunimi actually enjoys dressing up and taking pictures of his OOTD but doesn’t want to make it look like he cares in particular or that he just threw the outfit together

very much a tsundere. probably one of the most tsundere people in haikyuu

a very scary person when he gets mad. his anger is one that’s very quiet but you can definitely sense it

has SO MANY random skills and talents and just likes to whip out a few of them to surprise people

he’s amazing at those arcade claw machines and ended up surprising his teammates when they went out once

he is very selective when it comes to the people he likes to hang out or be around with. will only exert effort for those he’s really close to

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist):@montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @atsumu-brainrot @goodfoodxoxoxo @ah-kaashi @guardianangelswings @definitely-yours

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morocosmos · 3 years

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Febuwhump Prompt: 14 - Can’t Go Home Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Relationships: Warrior of Light (OC) Trigger/Content Warning(s): None

Moro’a had heard stories of the ocean before: a domain deep and vast, beholden to the ebb and flow of Menphina’s moods. Moro, the only soul in the village to have seen it with her own eyes, had described it as both beautiful and terrible, bountiful and ruthless; of the way it could change without warning, and the folks who braved the seas regardless. Far away as they were from the coast, Moro’a had often wished he might one day see it for himself.

Now, staring out towards Middle La Noscea’s shores, he wondered if he would ever leave its gaze.

The sea was in a foul mood, grey and churning, as though it held the rage of a thousand angered souls. They were in for a fearsome storm tonight. In the far distance, poised in between two crags, Moro’a spotted a ship swaying amongst the waves: a sizeable one, markedly different from those that regularly patrolled the waters.

“Oi, better keep yer wattles on them oranges and not the briny deep, aye?” Garrael caught his attention with a wave of her hand, startling him from distraction. “Before ol’ Staelwryn sees yer slack-jawed mug!”

“Thanks,” Moro’a blurted out, redoubling his efforts to pick the round fruit with haste. They were nearing the end of the harvest season, and no matter how many workers the farmers hired, there always seemed to be more fruit than pickers; more work than the sun gave them time for. But soon it would end, and he’d be back to scrounging for work.

It was grueling, leaping from job to job with little to no certainty. Hunt game near Swiftperch, tend to the farms in Cedarwood or Summerford, or try your luck in Wineport…if you had the right look or connections. They said a refugee was about a quarter as likely to find work than the poorest Lominsan – and sure enough, Moro’a often went to bed hungrier than he would’ve liked. But at least he had the skills needed to survive.

“What’cha lookin’ out there for, anyways?” Garrael always seemed to bark rather than speak, but they’d seen each other around odd jobs often enough to establish an amiable sort of bond. Moro’a pointed towards the ship, careful to keep his gaze trained upwards as he clipped a half armful of oranges off a branch. ““I was wondering where that ship might’ve come from. It looks different from the rest.”

“That there ship?” Garrael turned her head briefly to examine the vessel in question. “Aye, yer right – likely a foreign one, holding who knows what. Or who knows who. Soddin’ refugees sweepin’ in from just about any corner of the star these days.” She huffed an abrupt cough. “Not that that’s a bad thing, yer alright.”

Moro’a dismissed her awkward blunder with a shrug, frowning as he thought of the ship, and the people it possibly carried. How long had it been since he’d arrived here himself, with nothing but hunting gear and a borrowed name? “What’s the date today?” he asked suddenly.

Garrael blinked. “Eh? Fourth Sun of the fourth Astral Moon. Why’s that?”

“That makes it a year since I got here,” he realised, incredulous. A year. He couldn’t believe he’d almost missed it.

“Is it now?” The roegadyn dropped a hefty number of oranges into her basket, before reaching for the next branch. “So what yer gonna do, celebrate? Have a cry? No idea what in hells you’d do with sumthin’ like that.”

“...Neither do I, to be honest.” It was difficult, thinking of home; bittersweet as the citrus tang that pervaded every ilm of the farm. He didn’t know whether to miss or curse his family – how they’d shunned him for visions beyond his control or comprehension, going so far as to suggest he take himself to the Garleans and get himself conscripted. The argument he’d had with his mother the night before he left still stung.

But there were softer memories, too. Stories and songs by the fire, a song for every occasion, every emotion. Practice with his sisters, grinning as they competed to see who could first master the steps their mother had demonstrated. Idle afternoons swimming in the river, or listening to the wind in the trees, the first rays of light peeking through the leaves as they drifted off to sleep.

Garrael wiped the sweat off her brow, and her expression was a tad sympathetic. “Would ye ever wanna go back?”

I can’t. “Too late now,” Moro’a muttered. Like it or not, he’d chosen this life; no matter how hard it got, he would make the most of it.

#febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday14 #kae scribbles #EH #don't know what to feel about this one #i don't even know if this counts as whump just take it #at least it's done

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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Puppet. Yan Charles Grey x Reader [COMM]

The phrase “your life” feels more like an oxymoron than an accurate description.

Every task that you carry out -- from the moment the sun rises from the east, and sets in the west -- is not of your own autonomy. A marionettist pulls the strings from above, you but a mere puppet that concedes accordingly to its wishes.

You play the role of the perfect daughter, hours of tutoring and diligent planning from your parents ensuring your success. In your heart, there is little abhorrence for the distant yet prickly relationship you have with them. They mean no harm, you often have to remind yourself, when your thoughts gain a negative edge. It’s all for the greater good of the family.

Pressing the cold glass you plucked from the buffet table against your lips, your eyes take in the sight before you. Inhabitants from high social standing cluster together, speaking of benign matters or hoping to further their position in some way. It’s a familiar scene, despite the significance of the event.

The Queen, in all her normal benevolence, is hosting this ball in hopes of raising funds for a new orphanage in London. To turn down an invite to such an occurrence would be a kiss of death to your social standing. Your own family invested a hefty sum into the charity, a small hope of getting noticed you surmise. It’s a gamble, but nothing is gained without taking a few risks.

Your parents have an apparent agenda of their own tonight, centered around you. They’ve been introducing you to a variety of possible suitors, since you are now of the age to wed. Throughout the flood of faces you’ve met, none of them have seemed inclined to lead the conversation to taking your hand. The barrage of social interaction has sapped away at your strength, weariness settling in as the night progresses at a snail’s pace.

Being left to your own devices for what feels like the first time in hours, you lament the thought of when it’ll come to an end. Perhaps tonight simply isn’t your night? Your mother gave you a stern look when you spoke those words, critiquing every little nuance of your prior interactions. It isn’t your fault the men simply haven’t been interested in marriage, you did what was expected of you. That leaves no room for fault of your own.

One common string of actions you picked up on, was their hesitation in initially speaking to you. It could only have been your imagination, however, they spoke to you with rigidity. Polite, yes, but they seemed eager to leave your side. Almost as if they were hesitant to even speak with you in the first place, though any reason for this is beyond you.

How peculiar.

Your parents have left your side for a few minutes now, undoubtedly searching for another possible suitor to introduce you to. The string of bad luck isn’t enough to stop them from advancing their goals. Standing here for too long on your lonesome isn’t an option, the public eye judgmental and lips prone to entertain gossip. This night couldn’t come to a close any faster.

Adjusting your position, you consider the best course of action here. It’d be ideal to find a suitable person to speak to, but most of the people here are already in conversation with one another. Stopping a sigh that threatens to leave, you decide to get some fresh air. Distant laughter, chatter, and orchestral accompaniments go ignored as you walk to the doors of the balcony.

Guards open the door for you, allowing you to step outside. The moon is shining brightly above, illuminating the various plants interwoven with the wood railing. Corset constricting you harshly, the ability to breathe without trouble feels like a distant luxury. Being introduced to a possible husband one after the other doesn’t help, the interactions a whirlwind of stress.

“Not into events like this, huh? Not that I could blame you.” A male voice, light and whimsical, startles you from behind.

Placing a gloved hand to your chest in surprise, you look back to see a young man around your age. With long, snow white hair, playful blue eyes, and wearing a white tailcoat with a black buttoned up shirt underneath. He flashes you a lazy grin, before taking his place by your side.

Your breath hitches at the unexpected advance. Whoever this is either ignorant to social rules, or cares little of them. As he takes a place by your side, you consider making an excuse to go back in. A light breeze caresses your warming skin, a few strands of hair tickling your face.

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” you respond in earnest, unable to get a solid read on his aloof attitude. “Looking at the stars is a pleasant change of pace.”

In saying so, the pair of you look up towards the sky. It’s a rarity tonight, the usual smog not as apparent. His attention returns to you soon enough, mouth set in a straight line. He considers your input, crossing his arms.

“Hm… really? I’ve always found these events to be a drag.” he replies with a raised eyebrow, a hand pressed against his hip. You take note of the sheathed rapier, but think little else of it. The understanding the fashion choice of men has never been your strong suit.

“At first glance, perhaps. Legends behind the constellations are what I take the most interest in. Take those five stars there, for example,” you point a finger for extra emphasis. “That one is named Cassiopeia. In Greek mythology, Cassiopeia was punished by the gods for her vanity; forced to forever be imprinted in the sky.”

Biting your lip for a moment, you manage to collect yourself. When it came to topics you found compelling, rambling came naturally. If your mother were here she’d scold you, stern eyes saying more than words ever could.

“Seems over the top, if you ask me.” he concludes pointedly, pushing his lips to the side in thought. It almost comes as a relief that he isn’t irate with your passionate speaking, the window to criticize you for it now gone.

A light laugh leaves your lips, skin around your eyes tightening in amusement at his blunt assessment. “Yes, well, Greek gods were not known for their compassion.”

Mimicking your earlier action, he points to a cluster of stars in the sky with childlike enthusiasm. “And? What about this one?”

“Ah… I don’t believe that is a constellation. It has a similar appearance, however.” you speculate with a frown, silently hoping the answer isn’t too disappointing. His shoulders droop at your lackluster response, leading you to attempt and patch it over.

“You could always make a constellation of your own. I recall doing that as a child, it’s a fun game to play with yourself.” Memories come flooding back to you of your childhood, the nights you spent creating impossible yet fun scenarios to go along with the night sky.

Turning on his heels, he bends his face down ever so slightly to get a better look at you. Tilting his head to the side, an unidentifiable emotion flashes through his light sky blue eyes, before he returns to his former position. You feel your pulse quicken, concern over saying the wrong thing rearing its ugly head once again.

Instead of admonishing your thoughts, he encourages them. “Humor me. What story would you give this then?”

That isn’t what you were expecting. It’s an entertaining request, different from the dreary talk you’ve slugged through earlier. A topic that you’re well endowed in. Childlike wonder returns to you, flashes of memories from your youth returning.

“I can’t think of anything.” you confess with a sheepish frown. “I fear my interpretations would leave much to be desired, anyhow. The original stories are too timeless to compete with.”

Before he can offer a rebuttal, the sound of doors opening hurriedly behind you gains your attention. Your mother, eyes darting around before landing on your form, strides over to you with practiced ease. She freezes her movements when she looks over at your eccentric conversation partner, gulping at the sight.

“Earl Grey, I take it you have met my daughter?” she guardedly inquires, showcasing a tight lipped smile.

His title and name registers instantly, and you instantly feel an ocean of regret collapsing over you. Not only did you lose yourself in conversation with someone, it happened to be such an important individual? He could have you socially ostracized if he felt inclined to do so, being a guard of the Queen herself.

In a desire to save face, you mirror your mother’s stoic visage; praying she didn’t catch anything you said earlier. You gulp as he holds off on a response, her eyes narrowing briefly at you in the silence.

His own relaxed demeanor doesn’t change in the slightest at the new company, finally breaking the tense silence. “Indeed I have. We were having an exciting conversation.”

She shoots you a look that makes your blood go cold, fingers twitching by your side. The carriage ride home will be a harrowing event. You can already picture the chastising comments she’ll make at your expense, critiquing you from head to toe.

“Ah, I’m pleased to hear she was good company for you then. Please forgive her for any slips of the tongue, she’s always been an imaginative child.” she offers a timed laugh, one that you know well. Another sign of how you’ve surely upset her with your antics.

Your mother doesn’t need to say anything else, you more than capable of reading in between the lines of her strained gaze. She’s smoothed over any possible grievances to the best of her abilities, and wants you to dismiss yourself.

Earl Grey has kept his attention on you, paying little mind to her. You silently inhale, praying that your face doesn’t waver at your next words. Face burning in defiance of your wishes, you excuse yourself.

“It’s been a pleasure, Earl Grey. I thank you kindly for your time.”

---

When your father called you to his study this afternoon, you knew it would be grim news.

The past month has been a tense one, misfortunes piling up one after the other. It all started when one of his companies main investors pulled for no understandable reason, not even offering an explanation.

Matters only grew worse as rumors of scandal plagued him from an anonymous source, further discrediting the company's name. The staff of your house whispers that perhaps he’s been cursed by a malevolent spirit. While you initially scoffed at such an unfounded notion, you can’t help but begin to wonder if it holds some truth.

Weariness was apparent in his gaze, skin tight to the bone and dark circles underneath his eyes. Money is running out, he told you with a shameful sigh. There will be lifestyle changes in the near future, such as cutting a significant amount of staff at the estate; and even having to lay off employees under his company.

He wanted so desperately to shield you from this frightful information, but the times are growing dire. It’s frustrating -- how all of this could happen from out of seemingly nowhere -- leaving you at the mercy of the law. There must be something you can do, but what?

It’s the question that has led you to the gardens outside. Birds chirp contentedly, leaves rustling about in the wind. Nature always brings with it a taste of sweet solace, but today, even it fails to mitigate your anxiety. Negotiations for any possible engagements have also led nowhere, to make matters worse.

‘I could offer to sell some of my wardrobe… would that even do anything, though? It’s surely couldn’t hurt.’

Delicately wrapping your fingers around the teacup handle, you take a sip. Could it be you were not a desirable enough wife? With all the problems your family has had of late, suitors must be too cautious to approach you. As unfair as it may be, it frustrates you further.

“I was told I’d find you out here.”

Whipping your head around, you’re met with a sight that brings back pleasant memories. Earl Grey walks from behind a hedge, inviting himself into your presence without any hesitation. There’s a light spring to his step, like something had put him in a good mood.

This melts away instantly when he sees your downcast gaze, frowning deeply at the pitiful sight.

“Earl Grey,” you greet with a strained smile. “If you’re looking for my father, I can show you his study.”

Grey waves off your offer with disinterest, plopping himself down next to you. “There’s no need, I just finished speaking with him.”

You cross your legs at the information, muscles taut and frown deepening further. The investigation into possible racketeering brings a sense of shame, knowing in the depths of your heart your father would never do that. He’s been a lawful man his entire life, instilling in you good morals and reverence of the law.

It would be impolite to ask for the state of the investigation from Grey, who was assigned to look into the rumors by the Queen. It is still a tempting prospect, but you bite your tongue nonetheless.

‘How embarrassing… The Earl has only ever seen me in compromising situations such as this.’

“I wanted to speak to you before I left,” Grey explains, leaning closer to your person. “Not as an interrogation or anything relating to the recent allegations. I’ve been curious about you.”

Even at his insistence that this is off the record, it does little to help you. In the short time you’ve spoken to him, you’ve found his laid back personality to be off putting. Grey speaks whatever comes to his mind without caring how others might interpret it. This foreign confidence must come as a right to those in high power.

“About... me?” you repeat back for further clarification, blinking rapidly and tilting your head.

“We didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to,” he explains, finding amusement in your wide eyes. Maintaining eye contact never felt so difficult. “And I just so happened to be here. It’s worth taking advantage of.”

Shifting in your seat, you respond. “I’m all yours then.”

He picks up on your poorly hidden discomfort with a frown, resting his chin on his hand.

“Don’t feel the need to be so tense around me,” he chastises, thin eyebrows furrowing together with displeasure. “I liked how you were before more. So open and honest! It’s a breath of fresh air, really. Everyone can be so stiff and boring... it drives me mad.”

“You must be worried about the ongoing investigation. It’ll be fine, really. There’s been no hard evidence found -- only rumors -- which is a different kind of damaging. But in the eyes of the law, it’s ultimately useless.

He winks, causing your face to flush. “Just a little secret between us.”

You feel yourself eased by his spontaneously serious words, the affirmation much needed. Offering him a natural smile, you express your heartfelt appreciation.

“Hearing you say that makes all the difference,” you fumble over your words, incapable of hiding the well of emotion within any longer. Putting a gloved hand to your mouth, you continue. “You’ve offered me such kindness.”

Grey perks up at your gratitude, leaning in closer. “I’m only being honest. I’ve seen the worst humanity has had to offer, but your father is nothing of the sort. And neither are you.”

Guilt over your previous assessment of the Earl sprouts like a weed within your mind. You thought little of him at first, believing him nothing more than a soul too lighthearted for their own good. But here he is, offering you comfort in one of the darkest seasons in your life despite having nothing to gain from it. If anything, it could be a risk to his own character to associate with you.

Yet he’s here nonetheless.

“There actually is another reason I wanted to speak to you,” he interrupts your thoughts with an excited hum. “Seeing as your father is almost entirely cleared of suspicion, we had discussed arrangements relating to you. I asked for your hand, and he enthusiastically accepted. Wonderful, right?”

“W-wait, what?” you sputter in utter disbelief, uncertain of whether or not you’re dreaming. Is Grey being honest with you, or is this a practical joke in the works? Men from lesser standing than him looked over you as a possible wife, what does he stand to gain from this arrangement?

He seems happy enough to repeat himself. “We’re engaged. There are some little details that still need to be ironed out, but, other than that...”

You never were expecting to receive news of an engagement like this, your thoughts incoherent. It’ll do little for your image to so clearly reflect your inner feelings, prompting you to gain any semblance of control of your outward reactions.

This is a good thing, after all, perplexing as it is. With his connections and influence, no one would dare question your father’s integrity again. Doing so would be questioning the Queen’s own bodyguards, an extension of herself in many ways.

Grey looks at you expectantly, unusually silent while giving you a moment to process. From his upbeat, almost sing song tone, you get the feeling he wants this engagement himself.

“So don’t worry about those things anymore. I’ll be taking care of you from now on, after all,” he hums, looking down at you. Lithe fingers grab hold of a strand of your hair, playing with it. He’s close -- closer than a man has ever been to you -- warm breath hitting your face. “My only request is that you be yourself around me. That’s what drew me to you, and all I care for.”

Giving you a moment of respite, he tucks your hair back into place. Grey takes in the sight of you. Afternoon sun shining upon your face, highlighting your flushed cheeks, and soft lips. Smiling with contentment, he leans back into his chair, closing his eyes.

“Do that for me, and we’ll have no problems. A win-win situation.”

#charles grey #black butler #yandere black butler #yandere black butler x reader #charles grey x reader #yandere charles grey x reader #kuroshitsuji #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #commissions

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confrontthefamiliar · 3 years

Text

Full moon in cancer 2022 / Aquarius Season / Mercury and Venus Retrograde / Nodes in Scorpio and Taurus

On the real full moon I go out with entities to make mischief and magic.

I find myself three days later in the throes yet again of madness.

The stress of leaving has me drinking whiskey some nights but not too bad – just a few glasses.

Full moons are about debauchery and purging. Something wicked visits, whispers, wonders why.

Downloads, messages, consciousness, source, reprogram, deprogram, reboot, process, manifest.

I left my last ex behind and decided to just work on my mind.

Focus and you can break down time.

Mirroring, shadow work, examining shame, guilt, fear.

Reasons why I let so few near.

The fantasies, the mystery, manipulating, ego.

Patterns I want to leave behind.

Concepts molting, tradition rebirthing, love healing.

I say goodbye to old me. GOOD BYE OLD ME. My only worship is God. My only command is love.

You can always come back to Chicago.

Decisions, choices, responsibility.

Observing, feeling, energy, attraction, repulsion, bad blood, true love.

The full moon illuminates what is already happening inside. I feel love and indecision. The love grows and groans, chewing and grinding away at indecision.

I bathe in salvia smoke. I float in magnesium sulfate.

Finally reckoning with my behaviors in past and how broken I’ve been and how beautiful in every detail.

I can’t surf in Chicago but I try to drop in on hypnagogic sleep.

A gorgeous cancer moon. Lucid, me, more so. I love Chicago so: its mothering and the way it held me. The way I’ve been lost but safe in the city like a dream.

Flashlight moon beams cast a light across my mind.

Timelessness, infinity, subconcious, astral plane.

Every feeling I’ve ever had turns into another. I’m getting better at the flow, of letting go.

I don’t date but I fall in love with my friends and observe the romantic mindset.

I wake up in the morning and say I love you. It takes me a moment to realize I’m saying it to myself. I love you, like I used to say to my ex-boyfriends in the morning. I laugh and say it again to myself; I love you. I love you I love you I love you.

Emotional guidance system. The path, the way, the game, the process.

What resonates with you. No more doom and gloom. A sunrise.

Suburbia is just a state of mind, like inner peace and quiet.

I try to figure out what I put first so that in my life I can align.

Family, the ocean, the expansion of my mind, creating.

#chicago #moon phase #astrology #astrology blog #astro poems #full moon #full moon cancer #gemini #pisces

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semperintrepida · 3 years

Note

Hello! Since you have a number of iterations of Kassandra and Kyra, I'm going to be greedy: ✖ and ♫ for Sellout!Kass ಠ for painter!Kyra and # for game!canon/Immortal!Kass :D thank you!

[I know I’m doing these headcanons wrong, but it's way easier for me to express mine in actual prose. I suppose these serve as an example of how I work my HCs into my fic.]

anger, sellout!Kassandra

She used to be angry all the time, when she was young. It was her default state. It was how she rolled. Anger was the friend she needed, the one who always had her back. Anger never abandoned her.

She always played ball with a chip on her shoulder, too. Where a teammate might glance into the parents’ section of the stands after a nice play, Kassandra never bothered. Double-double, triple-double, raining buckets, every accomplishment a Fuck you to someone who wasn’t there to see it.

In her teens, she learned to tamp the anger down, to keep it under wraps. She scared people, intimidated them without even trying just by being fifteen and nearly six feet tall in her socks. She learned to turn up the charm. Easier to flirt with girls when they weren’t terrified of her. But the anger was still there, just like the seats in the stands with her parents’ names on them, always empty, always cold.

music, sellout!Kassandra

When Kyra hit shuffle on Kassandra’s spotify, she was expecting something fancy to come up, like Swan Lake. Or Mozart. Something black tie and crystal chandelier.

She wasn’t expecting Frank Ocean.

“I can’t feel nothing, superhuman,” he sang, while Kassandra wove the Audi through a pack of left-lane campers on I5, her fingers tapping the steering wheel lightly. “Zero emotion, muted emotion, pitch-corrected, computed emotion...”

"Cocaine for breakfast?" Kyra asked, as the Terwilliger curves zoomed by.

Kassandra smirked. "Only on special occasions."

This was another layer peeled back, but unlike an onion, which kept its general shape as it shed its skin, Kassandra kept revealing new facets that made her shine brighter in the light. Kyra could only wonder what else she'd find if she kept at it.

sadness, painter!Kyra

Most mornings, Kyra would awaken to a desolate expanse of grey sheets where Kassandra should be. She was used to it now, this lack of Kassandra. It helped her focus on her work. In her studio, she'd start the day by taking up a flat pane of glass and mixing paint, starting with a base of green or blue or yellow.

Those greens and blues and yellows slowly gave way to white, some as delicate as porcelain, others with names like "Titanium" and "Zinc." Hard names, metallic names, whites that she'd cut with drops of black, mixing out grey after grey, adding more and more black, until one morning, faced with a blank canvas and a clean flat of glass, she reached for the tube of black paint first.

She painted in a fugue state, and at the end of it, she stepped back and found an canvas staring back at her devoid of any hue, the only light in it a diffuse fog. Dark shapes lurked in the depths and at the painting's edges. She'd always been a landscape painter, but this was the first time she'd rendered one entirely internal.

That's when she knew she couldn't do this any longer. She had to break up with Kassandra.

technology, canon-immortal!Kassandra

"I want the dumbest TV you have,” Kassandra said to the young man in a blue shirt, inside what was considered an agora in the 21st century: a huge concrete box, lit with fluorescent lights. This particular edifice to capitalism was inexplicably called "Best Buy."

He squinted at her, all pimples and confusion. “A dumb... TV?”

“Yes. I don’t want it connecting to my WiFi, or calling home to mater, or listening to me talk. A dumb TV.”

"I don't... know if we have any of those."

"Find out." She sighed as she watched him hurry away. Eukleídēs had no idea what he'd started when he published those damn books of his. He'd borrowed the ideas for the first two volumes from her own pater, but once his system of mathematical proof was unleashed on the world, it was all downhill from there. Techne and logos: to build skill through expression. Humanity had combined mathematics and language all the way to the atomic bomb and footprints on the moon—and children were still starving to death every day.

What a waste.

[headcanon asks meme]

#i'm glad you asked #eagle-raider #kassandra #with a smidge of #kyssandra #ac odyssey #headcanon #wip: sellout #wip: heatindex #wip: elegiad #i am lol'ing so hard at the idea of elegiad!kass ending up in a best buy #tmi

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tangledstarlight · 4 years

Photo

julie’s ready for a year away from home, studying and trying to refind the magic in music. luke’s about to start on a summer tour around europe opening for a band. they meet one night, sparks fly and emotions run hight. now they’ve just got to try and see if they can maintain a long distance friendship.

DAYS GO BY AND SEASONS CHANGE (LETS TRY AGAIN NEXT WINTER)

trigger warnings!! alcohol and swearing and mentions of death (julies mum)

also on ao3 –– [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | extras 1 & 2 ]

summer

Summer had always been Julie’s favourite time of year.

Well at least it had been. Back when summer's meant spending time with Flynn and Carrie, making up dance routines and climbing trees and begging Victoria to take her to get ice cream from the shop near the pier.

Back before her mom got sick and hospital visits took over from dance routines and a funeral replaced visits to an ice cream shop.

It took her a long time to start liking summers again. To stop associating warm nights with hospital a/c and trips to the beach with a distraction technique while her mom got chemo. She can appreciate summers again now. It had just taken a long time.

But there’s still moments when it hits her. When she remembers all the long hours spent in hard hospital chairs and the terrible staticy tv’s in waiting rooms and the half finished songs tucked away in the back of her old favourite notebook.

(That she’s not touched in years but still brings along with her, just in case. In case of what, Julie doesn’t know, but it’s not stopped her from packing it on every trip and extended visit somewhere new. Just in case she wants to look at them. Just in case inspiration strikes. Just in case she suddenly decides she’s ready to finally finish the songs they started together. Just in case.)

Her favourite moments in summer had been when her mom would pack up their car, with fold up chairs and blankets and a cooler full of snacks, and drive them out of the city until all the bright lights faded away and the sounds of cars grew distant and they could see the sky.

Nothing but the sky and the moon and the stars.

They’d done it every year since Julie could remember, always at the end of summer before school started again, always just the two of them. It was their thing. To go watch the stars and eat all the sugary foods they could. Julie had learnt the stars like that, working her way through bags of gummy worms and sugar laces while her mom told her stories and made the world feel magical.

It’s been a long time since Julie had been out of the city and looked up at the stars with her mom. They’d not been able to make it that last year, and her dad offering to take her hadn't been the same. So it had been a long time since Julie had seen the stars so clear in the sky and remembered why she’d loved it all those years ago. Other than getting the chance to spend time with her mom, the stars made her feel like anything was possible.

There’s something about looking up at a night sky, full of hundreds of thousands of little pinpricks of light that fills you with wonderment and awe. It reminds you that in the grand scheme of things, they’re all pretty small. And that people throughout all of history have looked up at the same sky and seen the same stars and come up with their own stories for them all.

“I hate this, how are you so good at finding the constellations?” Flynn’s complaining brought Julie back down from her wondering and winding thoughts. Back to Cairngorms National Park and the crappy chairs they’d borrowed from the hostel they were staying in and the ‘who can name and find the most constellations’ game that Carrie had started.

“It’s a skill,” Carrie shrugged, trying to toss her hair over her shoulder as she did, but she didn’t want to take her hands out from under the blanket, it was a lot of shoulders jumping up and down and head swinging wildly in a circle. A far cry from the usual smooth movement it normally was.

Julie bit down on her lip to not laugh, Flynn didn’t have the same courtesy and outright cackled, but took sympathy all the same and helped move the stray locks away from Carrie’s face.

“Told you you should have bought gloves.” As if to prove her point Flynn wiggles her gloved fingers in her face and Carrie just frowns, pretends to lean forward to bite them.

“It’s summer. It’s meant to be warm,” she grumbles, and Julie secretly agrees. The three of them aren’t used to having to remember to take a jacket out with them in the middle of summer. But England always seems to run a little cold and the Scottish Highlands don't seem to know what the word ‘summer’ or 'warm' even means.

Especially not at 3 in the morning, but that’s more on them then the country.

Julie pulls her jacket a little tighter to her body as a breeze blows through their little clearing – the collar still smells faintly of Luke’s aftershave and mint, like it’s trying to cling to the last remnants of it’s rightful owner for her sake and it’s own, so she doesn’t forget who she wants to return it too one day – and tilts her head back to look at the stars. She can still hear Carrie and Flynn talking, bickering about gloves and a very clear, “You’re cheating! You’re looking them up on your phone!” from Flynn that makes her smile.

She’s twenty and with her two best friends about to start on an adventure through a mostly unknown country and she’s looking up at the same stars she’d once looked at with her mom, but everything else is different enough that it doesn’t hurt like she thought it would.

Sure she’s still a little sad, still wishes it was her mom sitting next to her, coming up with a wild story or an on-the-spot song about Cassiopeia. But she takes in a breath of air and feels her phone vibrate with a text notification where it’s tucked under her leg and smiles.

She’s always loved summer and despite all the bad memories she’s gained of the season over the last few years, she’s determined to enjoy this one.

“Tell me about the music thing.”

Julie blows out a breath at the question, her gaze fixed on the ocean in front of her as the waves crash against the shore, the sun just starting it’s rise into the world on the horizon. It’s 4:40am and the world is silent save for the waves and Luke on the other end of her phone. They’d picked this time because for him the sun was making its final push into the world and for her it was just starting. The closet they could get to watching it rise together with their hour time difference.

It did also mean Luke had been up for a whole hour longer than her, but he didn’t seem to mind. Julie was just happy she’d managed to find coffee in the small hotel’s kitchen before she’d left.

“How do you know there’s a music ‘thing’?” She asks and she knows she was avoiding it, talking about it, thinking about it, but Julie liked that Luke didn’t treat her any differently. That he didn’t know about how she’d once dreamt only of playing music and how now it was like a festering wound in her heart every time she looks at it.

“So I wasn’t like, preying or anything, but Bobby mentioned how you and Carrie and Flynn used to perform together all the time. But that you stopped. After your mom,” he doesn’t say the word, that one little word that still makes her feel sick. But it still hangs in the air between them.

Julie’s pretty sure if she said she didn’t want to talk about it then Luke would let the subject drop. That he’d talk to her about the sea and the sun and the tour and what weird information Reggie had learnt about wherever they were today. And a part of her wanted to do that. To avoid the conversation and having to try to explain all her messed up feelings to someone else. She had no reason to think Luke would understand anymore then her family had, and yet she found herself letting out a sigh and talking.

“My mom she– she introduced me to music, y’know? She used to be in this punk rock band, toured around the US, and made this amazing music that made you feel stuff. And then, even after she wasn’t in a band anymore and had met my dad and had me, music was still this like– it was this huge part of her life. Of my life,” Julie blinks back tears as she talks, her eyes still fixed on the horizon as if it will help. “She taught me to play piano. A little guitar too, but I’ve never been that good at it. But the piano, I fell in love with it. Everything about it. It used to be the one thing in the world that I knew would cheer me up. When I think about my childhood there’s always music in it somewhere. Playing in the background or mom making it or me trying to help her write it. She loved music, and it– it was more than that because it was like music loved her too, y’know?”

Julie pauses, to breathe, to collect her thoughts, to make sure she hasn’t scared Luke off with her rambling. But she can still hear him breathing on the other end of the line and the little ‘yeah’ he breathes out at her rhetorical question.

“She was there for every show I did, for every performance and recital, every time I had too many emotions and needed help to write them down. We did other stuff together too, but music was this thing that we did together that– that made anything feel possible. Is that stupid? That making music with my mom made the world feel magical?” She doesn’t really expect him to answer, it’s a weird question after all. But Luke has a way of surprising her every time.

“It’s not stupid. You spent so much time making something amazing with someone you love more than anything. I can’t really think of anything more magical than that.”

It knocks the breath out of her, the way he seems to get it after such a short time when even her dad still doesn’t really get it. Julie takes in a stuttering breath, unable to stop the tears that pool in her eyes this time with excessive blinking. So she lets them fall.

“Whenever I used to play or sing it always felt like I was doing what I was supposed to do. Like, sitting behind a piano was where I was meant to be, y’know? It was just one of those things I was so fucking sure about. Like that my dad would make pancakes on Saturdays and Sharpey wasn’t the villain of High School Musical and my tia would never learn to knock before coming in and that my mom would always be there. But then she–– she died. And it was like– fuck, I don’t even know. It was like nothing in life made sense anymore anyway, so why would music.” Julie bites her lip, blows out a shaky breath and wipes at her cheeks with her sleeve.

“I stopped playing for a– a long time, afterwards. I just...I couldn’t, y’know? And I know it worried everyone, me not being able to play. So I um I made myself sit at the piano and play something, anything really. Just to prove that I could. That I can.”

“So you made yourself play for everyone else and then last year you finally admitted that it wasn’t the same anymore?” Luke puts it so simply it almost makes her want to laugh.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she says, blowing out a breath. “It’s like, I don’t know how to play music the way I used to without my mom. Everything about music to me is so connected to her that when I play or sing it’s like something is missing and I don’t know how to fill it.”

“Maybe you don’t fill it then.”

“What?” Julie blinks, a small furrow between her brows as she tries to work out what he means.

“Music and your mom, they’re always gonna be linked together for you. There’s no way to undo that, even if you wanted to. And, honestly Julie, it sounds like you got back into music before you were ever ready to and not for yourself. Which, I– I mean, I get it. Everyone who cared about you was worried and you didn't want them to be. So you made yourself play again. But music shouldn't be something your force, it should just be, y'know, easy. And I’ve seen the way you used to play and– fuck, it’s–” Luke blows out a breath as he seems to struggle to find any words and Julie feels her frown deepen, just a little.

“You said making music with your mom felt like magic and that’s what it looked like too. That’s not something you can rush back into. It’s not a gap you can just fill in. It’s something you’ve got to look at and accept and use. When you’re ready to.”

It’s the last thing she expected him to say. Because honestly Julie has never thought about it that way, about how it wasn’t something to fill in or plaster over. That it was just a part of her that she’d have to live with, sand down the edges and put up hazard tape but maybe make into something new. One day.

A bit like how the grief she still feels about her mom is always with her, even though it’s easier to look at now, easier to think about. She’s learnt to live with it. No one’s ever said she should do the same thing with music.

“No one’s ever put it like that before.” No one else had ever seemed to understand that music for her felt a lot like magic either. Part of her knew it should scare her how much Luke seemed to understand her after so little time, but another part of her, a bigger part of her, was just relieved that someone got it. That she didn’t need to explain it again or pretend it was fine.

“Yeah well, music and pain is something I get. Not to the same extent but, yeah. I get it,” his voice trails off and Julie wonders what he’s thinking about. What memories his words have conjured early in the morning. She knows he’s got problems with his parents, that things are strained, she wonders if there’s story there he'll share with her one day.

The sun is peeking over the horizon now, a small semi-circle of orange light that makes her squint as she looks out, but it’s beautiful, watching the sun rise over the sea.

“When have you ever seen me play?” Julie blurts out, suddenly recalling Luke’s earlier words that had made her frown.

“Oh uh–” the question seems to catch Luke off guard and he’s stuttering, a bit like the first time they’d met in the cafe when he’d ruined her jacket. Julie can practically see him, sitting on his bench overlooking the tourist traps of France, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as his cheeks slowly turned pink. “So I wasn’t like, internet stalking you or anything. But, well when Bobby mentioned that you used to perform and I uh looked some of them up? Carrie has a very organised facebook and youtube channel. There’s playlists.”

And this time Julie does laugh, loud and bright in the still morning because he’d see the jumpy and blurry iphone videos of them messing around for their parents and school and still thought it was magical when she played. If he hadn’t sounded so serious when he said it, Julie would think he was just trying to be nice.

“God those videos were terrible. We got Flynn’s mom to help us make costumes for some of them, I definitely remember us being convinced that pillowcases and duct tape would make the most killer look,” she shakes her head at the memory and it feels lighter, easier than it would have done an hour ago.

“You looked very cute in your pillowcase dress and duct tape headband, I’m honestly surprised it never took off. You could have been a trend setter,” Luke says and she can practically hear him holding back a laugh.

“Alright Mr I-think-jean-chains-are-cool, settle down.”

“Hey! You said my chain was very cool,” he whines, she can practically see his lower lip protruding in a pout.

“I was also very drunk at the time, I was probably just trying to be nice.”

“You know what? As soon as the sun is fully up for you I am so hanging up the phone dramatically,” Luke mutters and it makes her laugh again. How he’d made her go from spilling her emotional guts up to crying to laughing all within a few minutes she’ll never know.

But she wants to thank him for it anyway, for understanding and helping and calling her magical. She’s not quite sure how to fit that into a single thank you though.

“Hey Luke?” She says it softly, almost as if she’s scared of frightening him away.

“Yeah?” His voice is just as soft and it makes her smile.

“Thanks for watching the sunrise with me.”

“Anytime.”

When they had first planned out their summer road trip starting in Scotland with a side trip to Belfast and ending in London they’d imagined something a lot more glamorous. They’d planned out all the places they wanted to see and visit that weren’t on the usual tourist route, and Flynn had even bought a paper map so they could mark places off as they went. They’d definitely anticipated more sunnier days then they’d gotten. And the surprise detour into a rural Welsh village was still being argued over about whose fault it was.

(Julie firmly blamed Flynn, she was the one giving directions. Flynn blamed Carrie because she was the one driving. And Carrie blamed Julie because she was sitting in the back having a nap. Either way they’d ended up stuck in a field after following a dirt road and only got back on track when a farmer had laughed at them for what felt like an hour.)

But this was their last weekend before they went back to their respective schools and they were determined to make it the most memorable yet. Full of drinks and laughter and tourist photos and over priced food.

Carrie had spent hours on instagram, sitting cross legged on the weird little half sofa in their hotel room, looking through all the bars and clubs people frequented with the best drink prices and photo opportunities. Flynn and Julie had spent the same amount of time on instagram looking for the cutest places to eat and cheapest spots for shopping.

They’d all reconvened on the bed in their shared hotel room with their lists of places and made a plan. They had three days and were determined to do all the touristy things they could. They’d saved it all for London because that had made the most sense when they’d first made their plan. What was a trip to the UK without a photo of the London Eye or the weird clock thing?

“...and then we went to Camden Market which was really cool. There was this stall with these really cool photos that my dad would love, now I’ve just got to work out how I’m gonna keep them safe until I go home. And oh my god! This other stall had all these old tapes and records of some real old school classic bands, you’ve got to check it out when you’re back.” Julie glanced down at her phone where she’d propped it up against the door while she sat in front of the floor length mirror in the hotel, makeup and hair products scattered around her.

She can see half of Luke’s face and half of Reggie’s watching her from the screen, both of them listening to her ramble about her day like they care what she has to say. Like they’re truly interested in the prints she bought for her dad and the pins she’d found for Victoria.

“Ask her if it’s–” she can hear someone start on their end of the call, the voice growing muffled as Luke’s eyes look somewhere over the top of his phone. She thinks it’s Alex talking, but she can’t be sure.

“Alex asked if that’s the place with the people painted gold and the ones who juggled in the streets?” Luke relays the question, an eyebrow raised as he looks at her. And Julie knows, logically, that he’s not really looking at her, because there’s a screen and a few hundred miles between them, but it still feels like he’s staring right into her soul. Even with the one and half eyes that the screen lets her see.

“Um,” she swallows, bites the end of her eyeshadow brush as she looks away and tries to think, glad for the slightly staticy quality of their facetime call. “No, that’s the other place. Um – hang on, Flynn! What’s the name of the other place we went?”

Flynn’s head appears around the doorframe of the bathroom, hair already done, eyeshadow standing out against her skin – the blues and greens of her eyeshadow blending together so well it makes Julie want to ask her to do hers too – and a mascara wand in hand. She tilts her head to the side, lips pursed as she thinks about it before leaning over Julie’s head and pointing at her phone.

“He’s thinking about Covent Garden. It’s got that design your own ice cream place and looks way cleaner.” They both watch as someone's hand descends over the camera and someone shouts and the phone shakes and then Alex’s face is filling the screen, the snapback on his head doing nothing to stop his hair from falling into his eyes.

“They had a really cool cupcake store, did you go there?” Someone’s hand appears in the frame for a second, and they can hear muttering in the background but Alex just shifts slightly to the left of wherever he’s sat, completely ignoring who she can only assume is Luke and Reggie complaining.

“Mhm,” Julie nods, not even bothering to hide her grin at the annoyed ‘Alex’ she can hear one of them make in the background.

“Did you try the triple chocolate one?” Flynn asks, sitting herself down next to Julie on the floor and wordlessly plucking the brush from her hands and picking up the palette she had been using from the ground. She swears, it's like Flynn can read her mind sometimes.

“Yes! It was so good,” Bobby pushes himself into view, chin resting to Alex’s shoulder like he’s draped himself over the drummer's neck like a scarf. From the corner of her eye Julie watches as Alex tries to shrug him off only for Bobby to somehow wrap his arms around his neck, holding on tighter.

“Close your eyes,” Flynn says, brush poised in the air to work and Julie quickly does as instructed.

“I preferred the coconut lime one,” Julie comments and she can hear someone let out a gasp on the phone.

“Over chocolate? Oh man, I didn’t know you had such a bad taste in cakes Julie.”

She bites her lip to stop herself from laughing at Lukes words – who has clearly forced his way back into view of the phone because his voice is close and unmuffled and teasing.

“What are you going to do? Hand up the phone dramatically?” She wishes she could open her eyes, to see his face, see if he remembers saying that. But she doesn’t have to open them to know he remembers when she can hear him laughing, can hear the smile in his voice.

“I would if Alex would give me my phone back.”

“Don’t you dare hang up I want everyone’s opinions on which dress I should wear,” Carrie calls from the bathroom and Julie peeks open one eye to see her poke her head around the doorway to glare at them and the phone before vanishing again.

“Ooo fashion show! Lets go girls!”

Flynn stops tapping at her eyelid and Julie opens her other eye to look at her quickly before glancing down at her phone where half of Reggie’s face takes up the screen, the other three boys fighting in the background.

“Did someone say fashion show?” A new voice joins the chaos on the other end of the phone and Julie frowns a little until Willie’s face joins Reggie's, blocking out the other three and grinning at them. “Woah your eyeshadow looks wicked Julie!”

“All credit for that goes to Flynn,” she says, waving her hands at Flynn as she finally gets the chance to look in the mirror, taking in the magic Flynn has worked on her eyes. It’s all dark purples and hints of silver and specks of glitter and Julie honestly has no idea how she’s done it. She turns her head to give the other girl a wide smile, “Fuck, this is so pretty Flynn!”

“If my music career doesn’t take off I’m going to make a killer makeup artist,” she tosses her braids over one shoulder, eyes glancing up a little as she grins.

“Always good to have a back up career,” Bobby’s face appears between Reggie’s and Willie’s, his arms wrapping around their shoulders. “Mine is landscape gardening.”

There’s a beat of silence on both sides of the phone, even Luke and Alex in the background seem to have gone quiet at their friends' words. Julie opens her mouth, though she’s not sure what she’s going to say, and she can see a similar thing happening to Willie while Bobby is just smiling, either unaware at the confusion he’s caused or knows, and is just extremely pleased with himself.

They’re all saved from breaking the weird silence by Carrie coming out the bathroom, burgundy slip dress swishing above her knees and blonde hair curled down her back, she puts a hand on her hip and rolls her eyes at the phone.

“Robert. You still cut your chin every time you shave, shut up about being a landscape gardener,” after rolling her eyes again, Carrie straightens up a little, brushing down her dress and posing so they can all see, “Now, this is option one!”

Eventually, after Carrie has gone through three dresses – picking the first option, of course – and Flynn has shown off her dark blue halter neck jumpsuit and Julie has twirled in her black lace skater dress, they’ve all done a shot together in solidarity and reapplied lipstick and they’re getting ready to leave. Julie is cradling her phone in front of her face and it’s just Luke on the other end now.

“You look really nice, by the way. Beautiful in fact.” He rubs at the back of his neck, an almost shy smile on his lips as he looks at her.

She gives him a small smile in return, just a twitch of her lips really, even though her stomach feels like it’s exploded in butterflies. Julie knows she doesn’t need someone else's approval on how she looks, but hearing Luke call her beautiful doesn’t exactly hurt.

“Thanks,” she bites her lip, wanting to say something more, but not knowing what. Carrie calls her name from the hotel door, nodding her head to where Flynn is already waiting in the hallway. “I gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night. Let me know when you get back okay, okay?” He raises and eyebrow at her and Julie can’t help but let out a small laugh.

“I will.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #carrie wilson #flynn #alex mercer #reggie peters #willie #trevor wilson #jatp fic #i never know what to tag these thing fuck dfjsk #honestly this is mostly just an emotional rollarcoaster #it was down it was down and then it went up #kinda wanna do a girls road trip fic now tho #also. the top 3 ig posts should go at the start #but it didn't look right on tumblr #*

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