#reincarnation fanfiction

[aureliagone]

I wanna see an SBI reincarnation fic (like who the everloving f*** made me a prince? by sherashalala) but ALL FOUR of SBI get reincarnated into the story. They all have varying amounts of knowledge of the world they’re reincarnated into, but they know they have to blend in or risk getting murdered or something idk but they still need to save their fam. NONE OF THEM KNOW they aren’t the only one reincarnated into the new world. When the plot starts deviating and the “characters” are slightly different than the original novel portrayed them, SBI each individually assume it’s because of their own actions just butterfly-winging.

Techno is most knowledgeable of the world (lol he’s a literature nerd.) Wilbur and Phil are both moderately knowledgeable. Tommy had no idea wtf is going on (as he should lol)

idk just had this idea. If anyone writes this (or knows of a fic like this) please lmk!!

[lostuzumaki]

Luffy reincarnated to past AU

Part1 Part2 Part3

[ohitslen]

Why does your neighbor never blink dude??

Almost forgot to post these here, but hey I remembered right?:)

[bg-brainrot]

"When He’s all but Forgotten How to Love Again" - Astarion x GN!Reader - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav for plot reasons)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, cw: blood, cw: Astarion's entire backstory, cw: sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Fluff, Grief, Mourning, Developing Relationship

Series WC: 113k words and ongoing, 21/?? chapters

Summary: An Elf-Tav reincarnation story where Reincarnated!Tav dreams about Astarion in their nightly reveries and eventually seeks him out once they reach maturity. Things definitely totally go well.

Author’s Notes: I'm bringing over some of my multi-chapter fics from AO3, so if you've already read this, ty!! I love you and appreciate you so much! I will continue to add chapters as I format them, but the full fic is available on AO3 here if you're feeling like a binge.

Heads up-- while there will be explicit moments, this is first and foremost focused on romantic tension and yearning, asking the question: 'Would you still love me if I was someone completely different?’ Explicit scenes will be few and far between and very much focused on their feelings. It’s essentially an established relationship slow burn?

This has unascended Astarion, “good” choices are made in the original timeline, Tav needs to be an elf for this to work, but otherwise no specifics on past Tav. Present day Tav is a magic-user.

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Chapter 2: The Second Encounter with the Pale Elf

Nearly 19, you think you have a handle of your past lives. However, not all of your past lives are created equal.

Chapter 3: What it Means to Love

Now 29, you're still trying to piece together parts of your past. In particular, what exactly was your relationship with Astarion?

Chapter 4: In this Lifetime

Now 99-years-old, you've managed to ignore your worst impulses to run off to Baldur's Gate. One night's reverie finally breaks you.

Chapter 5: Guidance from a Druid

After finally setting off to find Astarion, you receive a confounding memory from your past life. Ignoring what it might mean, you focus on your task and visiting Halsin, one of your past-self's friends.

Chapter 6: The Man of your Dreams

You make your way toward Astarion, trying your best to prepare for the encounter to come.

Chapter 7: Just One Night

You plead your case to the vampire.

Chapter 8: Who You Have Become

You try to learn more of who Astarion's become, while also trying to convince him of who you were.

Chapter 9: Ghosts of You

After he storms off, you try to track Astarion down only to find yourself on a trip down memory lane. Once you do catch his trail, you’re surprised to see where he’s gone.

Chapter 10: Overheard in the Underdark

You traverse a new landscape, looking for Astarion. What you find might be more than you bargain for, and what you hear might be too much to handle.

Chapter 11: An Interrogation

You spend the night in vampire prison and have a difficult conversation.

Chapter 12: The Source of his Pain

As you aim to leave and never look back, Astarion realizes that perhaps *he's* the one that made the mistake.

Chapter 13: And They Were Roommates

You and Astarion try to find a common ground between you. Things are awkward and tentative, and progress is anything but linear.

Chapter 14: A Blossoming Friendship

Now in your second week of living together, you and Astarion have to get past some of the hurdles your first week introduced, all while getting a bit closer along the way.

Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

Chapter 16: More than Friends Pt. 2

After talking through the previous night's tryst, emotions are confused, pasts are divulged, and everything comes to a head when your heart and soul want different things.

Chapter 17: What We are Now

When you’re left to your own devices, you find yourself knee-deep in mystery. Despite all of this, Astarion never leaves your mind. And perhaps you never leave his.

Chapter 18: Traveling with a Friend

You and Astarion travel together to Waterdeep. Emotions run high as you reconnect and reestablish your boundaries.

Chapter 19: The Wizard’s Tower

After traveling through Waterdeep, you and Astarion finally arrive at Gale's tower. Introductions are made, tours are had, and the relationship between yourself and Astarion continues to remain complicated.

Chapter 20: Sweets and Shopping

After receiving some advice from Gale, you and Astarion spend the day shopping and talking through your friendship.

Chapter 21: Dansarra’s Delights

Your wizard friend gives you a nigh impossible task, and you spend the day trying to find your opening to complete it.

Chapter 22 - TBA

...

[writersloveroe]

reincarnated lovers dialogue prompts

i found out this was a trope like 5 min ago and now i think it’s the cutest thing

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

•”why do i feel like i know you from somewhere?”

•”ever since i met them just a few weeks ago i swear everything reminds me of them! is that weird?”

•”it feels like i’ve known you for eternity,”

•”random question- is your favorite food ___? i had a strange feeling that it was,”

•”do you feel as deeply connected as i do?”

•”my soul sings whenever i see them, but i don’t know why,”

•”i’ve never loved anyone like this my whole life,”

•”i feel like we were meant to cross paths,”

•”every time we touch a feeling of nostalgia runs through my spine,”

•”your hands were made to hold mine,”

•”do you believe in soulmates?”

•”do you think we’re soulmates?”

•”how come i get so nervous around you and you only?”

[unamedica]

First time meeting their wives. Mizu: She was a magical forest creature. A sparrow, a caged princess, my crane.

Caitlyn: She was a convict I needed from maximum security. A Zaunite, a pain in the ass, my headache.

[mizusnose]

Sweet Dark

Reincarnation au,, partially inspired by @libbyfandom whose own mizu x reader reincarnation au had me in tears—thanks for writing it! Also heavily inspired by To Someone From A Warm Climate by Hozier

Summary: Mizu dealing with the aftermath of reader’s death and coming to terms with losing you, then having you again in the modern world.

“But it happened easy darling, as natural as another leg around you in the bed”

———-

Hot blood stained Mizu’s fingers, her wrists, her arms and shoulders where you laid against her. She pressed you to her chest, a child crying in her mother’s breast. A silent cry, none at all.

“Ringo! Get me my cape.” Mizu’s throat was raw, a scream that carried too long. A broken wing mid flight, a bloody landing.

Ringo hurried over, the blood soaked snow crunching beneath his feet. Mizu felt unfocused as she looked down at you, a limp thing in her arms. Something she’d had nightmares about, a dream untethered and untrue, one you’d help her come down from when she gasped awake in the middle of the night. Her sobs a broken noise.

Now, it’s not a dream—it’s real.

Mizu scoops you up, can barely feel the warmth within your chest now that most of it had been lost from the blood lost.

“No no no no no—please, no, no!”

Her front was soaked in your blood. A smell that would faster leave her nose than her own death. One Mizu would wake from, even months after she’d buried you tucked away in Kohama, against the tree line where she’d learned how to fight.

Not enough to fight for you, but a memory nenotheless.

Mizu considered herself someone who didn’t care. About herself, about the world, about anyone—and yet..

The night Ringo had to tear your cold body from Mizu was the start. She hadn’t slept. Waited instead for the sun to rise above the pines, a rustling of a bird in the distance, eyes unfocused.

The nights after that just got worse. Mizu couldn’t sleep. When she would, she’d wake up, hands carrying your frame, your head, your limp arms—and realize her embrace would be empty. A dream put to shame.

She’d went back to Kohama. Try to recenter. Try to train. Try to heal.

Yet, as she’d lay down on the soft of the dirt in the absence of the fire, she’d shiver—a desperate wracking thing. She’d shake and her legs move, seeking out warmth. A heat from somebody rather than something.

Met with coldness, a deep quiet, an empty space.

Mizu didn’t sleep much at all if she could help it. Knew she’d resent the coldness only winter brings. What it meant to lose so much warmth from the loss of you.

She never truly got over it. Even after her life was gone and she’d been born again in the world renewed. She’d never been able to swallow around the lack of it: warmth of the bed from you.

So when she did have you again, everything and every part of you, it was worse than ever losing you.

Maybe because it was the joy that came with relearning it: your shaking against her body from the cool sheets, a duvet holding no heat. She’d pull the blankets over your both. Your face pressed against her neck—the same place you’d breathed your last exhale.

“Not used to the cold?” She’d chuckle.

“Nope,” You’d say, enamored by her, her her, “From a warm climate’s why.”

“You’ll get used to it.” And she’d press her body to yours as if to say see? i told you, see? I can protect you here, see? see?

Mizu wished she could express it all. The way all her dreaming had been put to shame, an instinct that was embedded in her: the cold lake water of her heart boiled over.

She’d think: what an innate primal thing it is to be loved. To experience a bed, warmed by someone you’d lost—someone found again.

And, as if in a dream again, she’d hold you and wake in surprise to see you there: alive, hers.

hers.

———

Hozier’s lyrics = the standard. title from savannah brown’s poetry book of the same name.

[stuckinthesun]

Reincarnation

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Series Masterlist

S4 part 3 spoilers & slight manga spoilers

“Please try to stay safe, I can’t lose you too.”

That was the last thing Levi said to you before the squad jumped out the plane, diving head first for Eren.

You needed to stop the rumbling, no matter what.

The fight was brutal and heartbreaking, having to fight Eren wasn’t easy for anyone.

As you flew through the air, weaving through bone, one of the titans trying to stop you had grabbed you from midair, stopping you in your tracks.

You let out a scream as you feel it crushing your ribs in it’s giant fist, causing the to look back at you. They all tried to get to you, tried to save you, but it was too late. Blood poured from your mouth and nose, your breathing stopped, and the titan let go of you, dropping you like trash.

Your body didn’t fall though, no. With impressive speed, a man covered in bandages and scars was quick to catch you.

Levi didn’t have any tears, not yet. Not until the fight was over, and he knew once and for all it wasn’t all for nothing.

Then, he would cry like he was that little boy in the underground again.

—

You woke up screaming.

Sweat soaked your sheets, tears stained your cheeks, and you woke up screaming and kicking. You flailed out of your bed, falling onto the floor with a thud, but you barely registered it because you couldn’t breathe.

Was that real? Was that a lucid dream? What was that?

Flash’s of green cloaks and gray eyes and blood, so much blood, keep playing in your mind’s eyes, making your panic worsen, that you didn’t notice someone come into your room.

Not until they tried to touch you.

The hand on your shoulder had you jerking, whipping around and reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. What you were met with though had your hands shaking even worse than before.

“S-Sasha?”

“Y/N… do you remember? Do you remember everything from… then… now?” Sasha asked, looking at you tentatively, slowly kneeling down in front of you.

You remember her dying suddenly and you let out a sob, nodding at her, “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain.”

—

“So, reincarnation?” You sigh, now sitting on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment with Sasha.

You both are in college and, after getting her memories, Sasha made a serious effort to befriend you. Now you both live together.

“Yeah, and it seems you unlock your memories after you die in the previous life.” Sasha said, sitting next to you eating a bowl of cereal despite it being two in the morning.

You let out another deep sigh and run your hands over your face, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.

“It’ll get easier, I promise.” Sasha reassured, “and hey, we have each other.”

Turning to look at her you smile, nodding.

Yeah, at least you have each other.

—

Almost a year later and the nightmares have only just barely stopped. It has gotten easier, but the deep ache of missing him is what is so hard to move on from.

You miss Levi so much, and only having vague memories of him from a life you’d much rather forget, if painful.

One morning you walk into the coffee shop near your apartment building, a routine you’ve picked up from the lack of proper sleep recently. The bell chimes as you open the door and when you look towards the counter, you instantly stop.

Black hair styled in a familiar undercut.

The man’s back is to you, it could just be a coincidence. Undercuts are pretty popular right now so-

“Order for Mr. Ackerman?”

Your heart stops.

“Thank you.” An oh so familiar deep voice says, grabbing the cup from the barista with a polite nod. You couldn’t help but notice the string coming out of the cup, indicating it was tea.

It was him. It was Levi.

He was turning around, he was going to see you and-

“Excuse me.” Levi turned around and barely spared you a glance, just brushed past you and walked out of the shop.

You blinked, and blinked again, feeling your heart slowly shattering.

“Miss?” You heard the person at the counter say but you were already leaving, making a break for your apartment and hoping that Sasha was still there.

You felt tear’s building as you ran, not paying attention to your surroundings. You think you bumped into someone, hearing them yelling at you for spilling their drink, but you kept going.

Sasha was still there when you busted through the door, full panic attack. She immediately pulled you into her arms, asking what happened and telling you to breathe with her.

“It- it was him, I s-saw him!”

“Who? Who did you see?”

“L-Levi.” You finally sobbed, crying full force into her chest as she held you through it, now completely understanding.

You finally saw the man you loved from a lifetime ago, and he didn’t remember you.

[gojoulen03]

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

"MY DAUGHTER, THE DIVINE ONE"

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

A/N:

I'm saying this rn but this.. this blog is a literal mess. It's my first time posting this kinda uh.. yup. So I'm a little annoyed by it but I'm bored so I went through.. uh with it anyway..

I had an alternate version of this in Wattpad called 'Rose Thorns' lol. I'm still thinking of who will be the love interest for Y/n because this sht is similar to the usual SAGAU plot idk if I'm right though (correct me if I'm wrong lol).

Again, this is a mess. Idk if I posted this correctly.. but I tried anyway..

Sypnosis :

You are Tsukuyomi Y/n with a lovely daughter named Yuna. You've always dreamed of becoming a mother and decided to have one through artificial method (lol idk if that's real yet but I remembered a manga with that Soo YUp AND THIS IS FICTION so I had the power of making the impossible real here in this story LOL and yes you are rich in Earth cuz i said so ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)). You paid someone handsomely to give you the means to have a child without any sort of y'know lol- and finally had Yuna after so long of waiting.

You are deeply devoted to Yuna's well-being and promised to protect her no matter what.

But tragedy struck when you got involved in a car accident that claimed your life, leaving your daughter Yuna without her only guardian. Your own death left you feeling desolate and remorseful for not being able to watch your 5-year-old daughter grow up.

However, your journey took an unexpected turn when you found yourelf in a mysterious and unfamiliar world. You retained only hazy memories of your past life but resolved to forge ahead. Even in this strange new world, you couldn't let go of your fervent prayers for Yuna's safety.

You went on a journey in this new world called Teyvat. But what if your daughter follows you there - all grown up, so mature and with so many mysteries?

GENSHIN IMPACT X G/N! Reader

Warnings: Grammatical Errors, Lazy Writing, Possibly alot of errors again lol, MANY TYPOS idK, VERY OOC (I'mma not lie here), Y/n being the Cupid LATER lol, Yandere!Harem??? Obsessive Acolytes/Believers to the Divine One, MANY SIMPINGS ˛(ˊʙˋ)੭˒˒

CHAPTER 00

In the supposedly peaceful and beautiful world - Y/n, a beautiful God(dess) in a white robe and veil, had been engaged in a fierce battle to protect your city from marauding Gods. Your barrier stood resolute, deflecting attacks and safeguarding your people, but the more you fought, the more you felt your energy wane.

"Your majesty! Please, it's enough!" A voice was heard from behind. But despite the pleas of your beloved subjects to cease the battle, You remained unyielding, your bowstring singing as you sent arrow after arrow towards your foes. The Archon War had erupted unexpectedly, shattering the harmony among divine beings who were once friends. You couldn't comprehend why you were now locked in a merciless struggle for your nations' survival.

"You must be getting tired. How about resting now?" taunted by your enemy God, reveling in your weakening state. Undeterred, You glared back, refusing to back down. Your resolve was unbreakable; You were determined to defend your land until your very last breath.

"I will not! I will never back down until my last breath!" You yelled.

"Let's see about that, Goddess Y/n!" They said, as they were ready to launched another attack.

But just as you braced yourself for another attack, a familiar voice broke through the haze of battle.

"Ma/Pa.."

"Ma/Pa.. ma/pa.."

"Mama/Papa!!"

Startled, You gasped, your battle-weary eyes fluttering open. You found yourself in a small, warm room, and your attention was drawn to a tiny, innocent face—the face of your adorable daughter, Yuna.

"Mama/Papa! You're awake, right?!" Yuna's tiny hands shook you, urging you back to consciousness.

"Mama/Papa, it's time to wake up!" You blinked, the memories of your celestial battle fading into the background as you're fully awake now.

"Oh, Mama/Papa's awake now, dear Yuna," you whispered, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you lifted your daughter into your arms.

Yuna's innocent eyes widened with concern. "Mama/Papa, you were making scared noises in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

You smiled, brushing a gentle hand over Yuna's cheek. "It was just a bad dream, my love. Mama/Papa's fine now." You marveled at the contrast between the dream's fierce goddess persona and the reality of your role as a loving parent. How could such a powerful being in your dream world be the same person who cuddled with your daughter each morning?

"Let's focus on happier things," You suggested, ruffling Yuna's hair playfully.

"Hehe, okay! Let's eat breakfast now, Mama/Papa! I'm hungry!" Yuna's enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your daughter's radiant joy. You dismissed the surreal images of your divine battle as a dream or perhaps the result of watching too many fantasy movies recently.

"What would you like to eat today, my little sunshine?" You asked.

Yuna's face lit up with excitement. "Pancakes, Mama/Papa! With strawberries!"

You chuckled, the remnants of the dream slipping further away with each giggle. "Pancakes it is, sweetheart. Let's make them together."

With a tender smile, You kissed Yuna's forehead. "And also good morning, my precious. I love you."

Yuna giggled, her laughter echoing through the room like music. "I love you too, Mama/Papa!"

Together, you both ventured into the kitchen, the aroma of pancakes filling the air as you expertly flipped them on the griddle. Yuna stood on a chair, her eyes wide with fascination as she watched her parent cook.

What had seemed like a fierce, otherworldly struggle faded into the background as you dismissed it as a fleeting nightmare. Perhaps it was the result of watching too many fantasy movies, you thought, trying to rationalize the vivid dream.

"Yeah, it must be a dream," You reassured yourself, embracing the reality of your daughter's laughter and the aroma of breakfast wafting from the kitchen.

"Mama/Papa, are you a superhero?" Yuna asked suddenly, her innocent curiosity sparking a twinkle in her eyes.

You paused, caught off guard by the question. You knelt down to Yuna's eye level, your expression tender. "Well, I might not be a superhero, but I'll always protect you, my dear. You mean everything to me."

Yuna beamed, her small hand reaching out to grasp yours. "I love you, Mama/Papa!"

"I love you too, my precious Yuna," You whispered, your heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

You prepared a hearty meal for yourself and for your precious daughter, Yuna, savoring the simple pleasures of your shared moments. As you both sat down to eat, Yuna's innocent chatter filled the room, momentarily pushing away the lingering thoughts of that dream you had earlier.

"Mama/Papa, what's your favorite story?" Yuna asked between bites of the pancakes.

You smiled, reminiscing about the stories you used to hear as a child. "My favorite story is about a brave god(dess) who protected their people from all the dangers of the world. They were strong, just like me, and they never gave up, no matter how tough things got."

Yuna's eyes widened with admiration. "Wow, Mama/Papa, you're like that god(dess), right?"

You chuckled, ruffling Yuna's hair affectionately. "I try to be, sweetheart. I'll always protect you and keep you safe, no matter what."

You only wished the best for your daughter.

That's all you need..

Those dreams probably meant nothing, right?

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, with You and Yuna sharing your lives in blissful harmony. You had put the strange dreams behind you, attributing them to a mere figment of your imagination, yet the memories of your battles as a god(dess) lingered, casting a subtle shadow over your peaceful existence.

It also arose so many questions..

Why do you have that dream?

What does it mean?

Is it a past life?

Why are you remembering it?

You're already happy with youe daughter. You don't want to be burden with a problem you don't even know about.

That was all just a dream anyways..

But one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you found herself lost in thought on the porch of their cozy home. Yuna, now a bit older but just as radiant, skipped over, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Mama/Papa, why do you sometimes look so sad?" Yuna asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You smiled gently, your fingers tracing the patterns of the wooden porch. "Oh, my sweet Yuna, it's just Mama/Papa's thoughts wandering. Sometimes, grown-ups think about many things at once."

"But you can tell me, Mama. I'm a big girl now!" Yuna insisted, her determination mirroring her parent's.

You sighed, realizing that your daughter was growing up and deserved to know the truth, or at least part of it. "Alright, my love. Mama/Papa had some strange dreams lately, dreams of battles and wars. It felt like I was someone else, someone powerful but burdened by the weight of protecting others."

Yuna's eyes widened in awe. "Like a superhero?"

You nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips. "Yes, something like that. But these dreams were so vivid, as if they were memories from another life. It's all very confusing, Yuna."

Yuna reached out and held her parent's hand, her grip surprisingly strong for a child her age. "Mama/Papa, I think those dreams are trying to tell you something. Maybe you're meant to do something important."

You looked at your daughter, marveling at the wisdom hidden behind those innocent eyes. "You're right, Yuna. Perhaps there's a reason I'm having these dreams. I just wish I knew what it meant."

You couldn't help but hug your daughter. Just how caring and smart is this girl? This daughter of yours is too perfect to be yours. She's far too wise..

Even you can't come out with such an advice. But your 5 years old daughter could.

"You're so mature, aren't you, my love?" You said, as you kisses your daughter's chubby cheek who giggled in return. "Hehe! Because I am a big girl!"

"Yes, you are a big girl, love."

Though you couldn't exactly shake the feeling of being a powerful god(dess) in that otherworldly battle, your memories of an archon war still vivid, despite the comforting reality of your daughter's presence.

"Mama/Papa, can I ask you something?" Yuna's innocent voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Of course, my sweet," You replied, setting your daughter to your side to give your full attention to your daughter.

Yuna looked up at you with those big, curious eyes. "What were you fighting in your dream, mama/papa? Were you super strong?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain the complexities of your dream world to a 5-year-old. "Well, it was just a dream, dear. In the dream, Mama/Papa had to protect something very important, just like how I always protect you."

Yuna nodded thoughtfully. "Like a superhero, right?"

You smiled, relieved at the simplicity of Yuna's understanding. "Yes, like a superhero."

"Cool! I wanna be a superhero too!"

"Study first-"

"But mama/papa!!"

"Just kidding~!"

But as the day went on, you couldn't shake the feeling that your dream held a deeper significance. The memories of the archon war and the title of "God(dess) Y/n" haunted your thoughts, refusing to be dismissed as mere fantasy.

That night, after tucking Yuna into bed and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, you found herself unable to sleep. You decided to indulge your curiosity and did something you hadn't done in a long time-you opened your laptop and began searching for information about archons and the concept of divine beings.

But you found no information about all the things you remembers in your dream.

Is it just.. a dream?

Lost in thought, you murmured, "God(dess) Y/n... Archon War... it all feels so distant yet so real."

Yuna, ever perceptive, approached her parent out of nowhere, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Mama/Papa, is something bothering you?"

"Ahh!" You almost fell down your chair when you saw your daughter standing next to you. Gosh! She's scary sometimes!

"Gosh, you scared Mama/Papa, love." You said, as you sighed in relieved that it was only your daughter. Yuna shrugged her shoulder before climbing into your lap and sitting comfortably.

"Why aren't you sleeping, baby? Didn't Mama/Papa tucked you in already?"

"Can't sleep yet.." She respond, as she hugged her doll tighter before looking back to you.

"So.. what's bothering you, Mama/Papa?" She asked curiously.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for your sweet daughter's concern. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Just an old dream Mama had like i told you before-"

But as you spoke, a sudden jolt surged through you, a flash of memories and emotions that felt too vivid to be merely a dream. You saw yourself clad in divine armor, battling against other gods. Faces once blurred became clear in your mind's eye.

"The Archon War.." You whispered, the words heavy with realization. "It's like.. a reality.. I'm not sure.. but I felt like I've known about it like a long time ago.."

Yuna's eyes widened with wonder. "Mama/Papa, what's an Archon war??"

You shake your head, your mind racing to comprehend the implications of your rediscovered identity. "I don't know, sweetie.. but there was a war. But why? Why were we fighting? Why was i fighting? What am I protecting..?" You questioned, confusing the little girl even more.

"Ehh.. really, Mama/Papa? Maybe you died and got reincarnated? I saw a movie about that!" Yuna explained.

"Reincarnated? Wait- how did you know that big word?" You asked. Yuna giggled as she snuggled into her doll. "Hehe! I heard it from watching marvel!"

"Right.. Hawkman.."

"Hehe! I like Ironman and Hawkman!" Yuna said excitedly, as she raised her doll up like it was flying.

You sighed. "Maybe I made her watch so many movies.."

Still.. how can this be?

Why are you remembering all this memories now?

You already have a life with your daughter..

Why now?

As you navigated the bustling city streets, your thoughts were consumed by the anticipation of seeing Yuna's face light up with joy upon receiving the special treats you had bought today. The aroma of fresh donuts filled the car, tempting your senses as you carefully maneuvered through the traffic.

Your dedication to your daughter, Yuna, was unwavering. You juggled a demanding career as a high-profile fashion designer for a prestigious modeling company while ensuring that your daughter's upbringing was filled with love, happiness, and positive role models. Your decision to distance yourself from your previously abusive and greedy household was a testament to your commitment to providing Yuna with a safe and nurturing environment.

As you drove home, the box of delectable donuts sat securely on the passenger seat, tempting your senses with their sweet aroma. You couldn't help but smile, thinking about the joy these treats would bring to your little girl.

"I bet my baby would like the donuts I bought today," You mused aloud, your excitement palpable. "It's definitely the best ones I've tasted! I'm sure she'll like them."

With each turn of the wheel, your anticipation grew. The thought of Yuna's radiant smile and the delighted squeals of a child about to receive a cherished surprise filled your heart with warmth. There was nothing you wouldn't do to ensure Yuna's happiness and well-being.

She is your precious girl after all.

Who wouldn't want the best for their child?

"My precious baby... I so missed you, my Yuna. Mama will be spoiling you a lot this weekend for sure. Hmm... maybe I'll take her to the water park this Saturday?" Your thoughts were filled with excitement as you drove home, your anticipation growing with each passing moment.

However, in the midst of your joyful reverie, you failed to notice the fast-approaching truck until it was too late. The deafening impact sent shockwaves through your car, causing it to veer off the road and collide with the oncoming vehicle. The world around you blurred into chaos, and time seemed to slow as the accident unfolded.

Huh?

The world around you spun into chaos as the impact of the collision reverberated through your body. Glass shattered, metal twisted, and the sound of screeching brakes filled the air. Darkness enveloped you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

When you finally regained her senses, you found yourself trapped in the wreckage of your car. Pain radiated through your body, and as you tried to move, you realized your injuries were severe. Panic welled up within you as the realization of what had just happened sunk in.

Your thoughts immediately turned to your daughter, Yuna. Fear clutched at your heart as you desperately called out to your little girl, but there was no response. Panic and anguish swirled within you as you fought against the pain and the wreckage that held you captive. I must go back to her! I still haven't given the donuts to my precious baby!

Pain shot through your body as you clung to consciousness, your first thought being of your precious Yuna. Panic continued to surged within you as you struggled to assess the situation.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you managed to unbuckle yourself and crawl out of the mangled car. Your vision was blurred, and your limbs felt heavy, but you had to go home to Yuna.

Your legs wobbled, panic turned to dread as you thought about Yuna waiting at home with the nanny, unaware of the accident. You had to get home, had to make sure your daughter was safe.

In the midst of the chaos, your thoughts were solely with Yuna. "I hope my Yuna is safe," you thought, your heart pounding with fear and concern. The seconds stretched like hours as you struggled to regain your bearings, your mind racing with worry for your daughter.

In the distance, you could hear voices shouting, the wailing of sirens approaching.

Your car's front end was crumpled, and the truck involved in the accident was equally damaged. The scene was chaotic, with concerned onlookers and emergency responders swarming around.

"M-my daughter," Y/n's voice laced with desperation. "Please, you have to help me. I need to get home to her."

The emergency responders arrived swiftly, their skilled hands working efficiently to extract you from the wreckage. All the while, your thoughts remained fixated on Yuna, your love for your daughter propelling you forward.

In the ambulance, amidst the blaring sirens and the medical team's urgent voices, you clung to consciousness. Your mind was a whirlwind of fear and determination. You couldn't let go, not when your little daughter syill needed you.

"It's gonna be okay, ma'am! Don't lose your consciousness! We're almost there!"

"We have to immediately take first aid!"

(Idk about this.. uh things so bear with it lol)

At the hospital, doctors and nurses worked tirelessly to stabilize you. Hours passed in a haze of pain and worry, but through it all, one thought persisted - your precious daughter, Yuna. You needed to be there for her, to protect her, just as you had always vowed to do.

As you lay there, pain coursing through your body, you felt a profound sense of urgency. The world around your became hazy, youe vision blurred. You knew your time was slipping away, like sand through an hourglass. The paramedics rushed to your side, their voices a distant echo in your ears.

In the midst of the chaos, you fought to find your voice, to speak your final words before surrendering to the abyss. With a tremor in your weakened voice, you whispered to yourself, aware that youe daughter, Yuna, remained oblivious to the tragedy that had befallen you.

"Yuna," you choked out, each word infused with a mixture of anguish and love. "My sweet, beloved daughter, I hope you can hear these words, even if only in your heart.."

As you felt the grip of life slipping away, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The pain and confusion consumed you, but amidst it all, you clung to your final thoughts, desperate to convey your love and remorse to your beloved daughter, Yuna.

Barely able to speak, your voice reduced to a mere whisper, your mind screamed with unspoken words. You yearned to tell Yuna how sorry you are, how deeply ashamed you felt for leaving your behind in this world, alone and unaware of the impending tragedy.

Blood pooled in your throat, choking your words and stealing your breath, but your thoughts raced with determination. With every ounce of strength you still possessed, you wished for your daughter's growth, for her to thrive in a world that you had only begun to understand.

In the midst of your pain, your love for Yuna burned brighter than ever. You wanted your daughter to know that your absence was never a choice, but a cruel twist of fate. Tears welled in your eyes, mixing with the blood that stained your lips, as you silently begged for forgiveness.

As the medical team continued to do their work on helping her, their urgent movements a blur around your fading consciousness, You held onto the image of Yuna in your mind. You whispered your final words, a desperate plea, hoping that somehow, in the vastness of the universe, your daughter would feel your love and hear your apologies.

In those fleeting moments, Your thoughts transcended the physical realm. You poured your heart and soul into a silent scream, a profound expression of love and regret that resonated in the depths of your being.

Through the pain and struggle, You fought to string together more coherent thoughts, desperate to convey your feelings, hopes, and apologies to your beloved daughter.

"My sweet Yuna, forgive me... I never wanted to leave you, my baby," you whispered in your mind, your voice quivering with a mix of love and anguish.

"I won't witness your first heartbreak... but remember, my darling, you are stronger than you know. You will rise above the pain and find love again."

"Yuna, my precious baby, don't let my absence hold you back. Embrace life's opportunities, explore the world, and chase your dreams with unwavering determination."

Her thoughts grow strained and weak, you continued, your words a fragile thread connecting you to your daughter's future. "I wanted to guide you, to be there for you... but circumstances have robbed us of that chance. You must find your own way, my love."

The tears flowed freely as your thoughts turned to the milestones you would miss. "I won't see you find your lifelong friends, those who will stand by your side through laughter and tears. But know that true friendships will enrich your life in ways I could never imagine."

"Yuna, my heart aches at the thought of not witnessing your wedding day. But when that time comes, know that I am with you in spirit, overflowing with love and pride as you embark on a new chapter of your life."

Your voice grew fainter, but your determination pushed you to utter one last plea in your head. "Promise me, my sweet Yuna, that you will live a life filled with joy, passion, and purpose. Seek happiness, embrace love, and never forget the strength within you."

As the darkness closed in, your final thoughts were consumed by your daughter's welfare. "Please, someone... protect and cherish my Yuna. Be the support and guiding light that I can no longer be. Love her as fiercely as I do."

With your strength waning, you held onto the hope that your whispered words would find their way to Yuna's heart. You longed for your daughter to know the depth of your love, the remorse you felt for leaving too soon, and the unwavering belief in Yuna's ability to navigate life's challenges.

And as your consciousness slowly faded, your final thoughts were a fervent wish for your daughter's growth, happiness, and the fulfillment of all her dreams.

"I love you, my Yuna.."

In your final moments, your thoughts were consumed by your undying love for Yuna, a love that transcended the boundaries of life and death. As your eyes fluttered closed, your last thoughts were of your daughter's smiling face, a beacon of light that guided you into the unknown.

You couldn't fight your dead..

Not again..

You failed again..

You failed protecting someone again..

And in that fleeting moment, as the world faded to darkness, you found solace in the knowledge that your love for Yuna would endure, an eternal flame that would continue to burn brightly, even in your absence.

'I'm so sorry, Yuna..'

Yuna played contentedly with her dolls, her imagination leading her on adventures only a child's mind could conjure. Her nanny and also Y/n's best friend, Kate, sat nearby, keeping a watchful eye on the little girl as she indulged in her imaginative play. Yuna was a charming but particular child, especially when it came to her food preferences. Yet, her undeniable cuteness made her nannies' hearts melt, rendering any minor inconveniences inconsequential.

Kate focused on the news broadcast playing on the television, its volume low so as not to disturb Yuna's playtime. But then, an unexpected news report abruptly seized her attention.

"A twenty-six-year-old woman/man was caught in a car accident," the news anchor announced solemnly. "The authorities have confirmed their identity. Tsukuyomi Y/n. She/He is a famous fashion designer for the Famous El Vera Company, who lives with their daughter, Tsukuyomi Yuna, in the..."

Kate's breath caught in her throat as she listened to the news report. Time seemed to stand still as the weight of the information sank in. Her eyes darted to Yuna, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, her innocent laughter filling the room.

She quickly turned off the television, not wanting Yuna to overhear the devastating news. Panic welled up within Kate as she contemplated how to handle the situation delicately. She knew she had to inform Yuna about her parent's accident, but how could she break such heart-wrenching news to a young child?

Taking a deep breath, Kate approached Yuna gently, crouching down to her eye level. She mustered a warm smile, masking the anguish she felt inside.

"Hey, sweetie," Kate began, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "I have something important to tell you about your mom/dad."

Yuna looked up, her big, innocent eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, Nanny?"

"Well, darling, your mommy/daddy was in a car accident," Kate said softly, her heart breaking at the thought of shattering Yuna's world. "They're hurt, and they're in the hospital right now, getting the help they needs."

Tears welled up in Yuna's eyes as she clutched her doll tightly, her heart aching with a profound sense of loss. In that moment, the world seemed to crumble around her, and the reality of her mother/father's absence began to sink in.

"But... but Mama/Papa promised they'd come back, right?" Yuna choked out, her voice breaking as she struggled to hold back tears. "They said they'd bring me donuts today... they can't be... they can't..."

Kate fought back tears, mustering all the strength she had. "Yuna! I'm sure the doctors are doing everything they can to help them! But it's important for you to know that they loves you very much, and they want you to be strong and brave while they recover."

A flicker of fear crossed Yuna's face, and she clutched her doll tightly. "Can I see mommy/daddy?"

Kate's heart sank. She knew the truth had to be told, no matter how painful it was. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, but right now, your mommy/daddy needs to rest and get better. The doctors won't let visitors in. But you can send them your love and thoughts, and they'll feel them, I promise."

Tears welled up in Yuna's eyes, and she buried her face in the safety of Kate's arms. "I want my mommy/daddy, Kate. I miss her/him."

Kate enveloped Yuna in a warm embrace, her own eyes filling with tears. "I know, sweetheart. I know it's incredibly hard. Your Mama/Papa loved you very much, and they'll always be in your heart."

As Yuna clung to her, seeking comfort, Kate whispered a silent prayer for strength and guidance. She knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but she was determined to be there for Yuna, to support her, and to help her navigate the difficult journey of healing and acceptance. She was only a little girl and she had lost her only parent. Isn't Y/n's family full of abusive people? Yuna will be in danger for sure..

Kate hold Yuna tightly in her arms, as she embrace the little girl and whispering comforting words to her.

'I promise to protect your daughter for you, Y/n..'

Taglist: ----

♡ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ᙏ̤̫ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡ ⋆⁺₊ ᙏ̤̫ ⋆⁺₊⋆♡ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ᙏ̤̫ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ᙏ̤̫⁺₊⋆ ♡ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ᙏ̤̫ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡

@gojoulen03

[kookblurx]

1920 - jjk [ chpt. 1 ]

→ SUMMARY: a photo of a beautiful smiling boy; an old tree in your grandparents garden ... and a feeling of sadness. all those things are connected to each other ...

→ GENRE: time travel au; changing fate au; rencarnation au; university au; death; sickness; historical setting; trigger topics; smut; dirty talk; switching between present and the past.

→ / chapt. 2

→ RATING: 18+

→ NOTE: <3 also because some people complained that i write about trigger topics: I ALWAYS write in the genre section if there will be triggers or what this au is about. i also mention the age rating. so please read all this stuff carefully and if you dont wanna read specific genres, please scroll. thanks.

BTS MASTERLIST ♡.°₊ˎˊ PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER

Present:

whenever fall was around the corner your parents always forced you to spent the holidays at your grandparents place. you didnt minded that because that meant you could spent all your time in their big library. as a child you discovered many gems there; starting with books about warriors and ending with stories about dragons. so it was no suprise for your grandma that you hugged her with the biggest smile on your face after exiting the car. the weather was nice while the dry leaves crunched softly under your shoes. before you entered the mansion, you putted your luggage into your grandpas hands. every other family member would had been mad at you but not him. he knew how badly you wanted to run into the library, so you could stick your nose back into those big books. on the way inside you nearly slipped on the stone floor at the entrance hall. the grey stones were always so smooth that many already slipped there. including your grandpa who "broke" one of his legs because of it. as you ran down the hallway you could already see the big wooden door. right behind it was your paradise, a paradise full of stories about the past. with both hands you opened the heavy door and was greeted with the scent of old books. it really felt like heaven as the door closed automatically behind you. nothing could stop you anymore as you roamed through the various shelves. most of the books were already known to you, so you searched for new ones every visit; knowing your grandma would hide them between the other books. it took you 2 minutes to finally reach your favourite spot in the library, an open space with big windows and a single desk in the middle of it. to your suprise a book was laying there, wide open and ready to be investigated by you. strange, your grandparents would never leave a book in the open, especially with the sunlight shining on it. they always mumble things about "old books" and "they need to be protected properly". well, it wasnt your problem anyways so you crept closer and took a seat on the wooden chair. on first glance the book didnt looked interesting, some pictures were in it but that was all. most of the text was unreadable, indicating that this is a super old book. as you flipped through the pages a loud noise behind you, starteled you. as you turned around in the chair, your ellbow bumped against the book; pushing it to the edge of the desk. before it could hit the ground you were able to catch it. in the process a picture fell out from between the pages. weird, that wasnt there before. after you put the book back onto the table, your hand reached out for the picture on the ground.

the paper felt old between your fingertips and you were scared you could break it. carefully you twisted it, curious you squinted your eyes as you were finally able to look at the picture itself. your eyes met with a young beautiful boy, he smiled at the camera ... or at something behind the camera. something about his face told you that you know him which wasnt possible right? eagerly you turned the picture again but on the back was no description .. only a date; 1920. it was really old. after putting the picture back on the table you started to flip through the pages of the book again. there, between the last three pages were more pictures. some were glued on the pages but others arent. on every single one of them was only the date "1920" written, nothing more. it was also always the same boy, over and over again. as you kept looking at him something inside of you started to sting.

"who are you ..?"

whispering to yourself you turned to the last page, thats when another photo slid towards you. on it was a big tree with the boy leaning against it. as you grabbed it your hand started to shake, who would make such a picture? the boy didnt smiled or laughed like the other pics you saw about him. this time his face looked peaceful, one hand rested on his stomach. the pic was kinda brownish but you were able to recognize that the dark spot on his stomach, was blood. out of nowhere your head started to hurt badly. the pictured slipped out of your hand as you grabbed your head with both hands. something was wrong with you; a faint voice was heard inside your head ... and something which sounded like crying?

"no...no! wake up! you cant leave me like this! please! ... you promised you would stay, you promised we would ... grow old together ... please dont leave me Jungkook!"

pressing your eyes together you grabbed the photo again; as you turned it there was only one single sentence; sorry that i couldnt save you. it was nearly unreadable. turning the picture back, the pain inside your head slowly fainted. Jungkook ... you never heard that name before in your life. is this boy Jungkook? for a moment your gaze went to the big windows in front of you and thats when you finally noticed it.

with a fast motion you pushed the chair back, not caring that it made a loud noise after hitting the ground. on the way outside of the library you nearly slipped again and also bumped into your grandma. the confused look on her face was more than visible as you said sorry to her and kept running towards the entrance. cold sweat was running down your neck as you crossed the flower fields of your grandparents garden. your grandma will be mad with you later but that didnt mattered right now. out of breath your feet finally came to a stop as you reached the top of a small hill. the view from here was breathtaking but thats not the thing which drew you here. slowly you lifted your hand up, still holding the picture as you looked at it. the location was the same, this was the same damn tree. what happened here? why does your grandma have those pictures and why does this young man seemed so familiar to you? no matter how hard you tried to remember it, no one came to mind.

exhausted you walked over to the tree just to sit down against it, like the boy in the picture did. so, this was the place he died but what had happened to him? why was he bleeding and why did you heard the crying voice of a woman inside your head? again your heart started to ache all of a sudden. this wasnt normal.

"were you looking for me?"

a voice and a touch on your shoulder made you jump. the moment you turned around, no one was there. your mind played tricks on you, yeah that must be it. the long drive and the lack of sleep was getting to you ... nothing more.

"dont act dumb, i know you like roses"

there it was again

"w-who is there?" pressing the picture against your chest you kept looking around.

silence. slowly you took a step closer to the tree

"you know, your smile always reminded me of sunshine"

you froze. slowly you reached out for the tree and before your fingertips were able to touch it ... a strong wind came up.

"dont be shy! this will be awesome!"

"Wha--....AAAAAH!"

out of nowhere someone pushed you. fast you closed your eyes, waiting for the impact of the tree against your face ... but it didnt came. somehow you ended up on the soft grass, hitting your head on the ground. the pounding pain made it hard for you to stand up again, so the first thing you did was sit up. holding your head with one hand you tried to search for the picture with the other one. it was gone, the picture was really gone. how were you able to lose a picture just because of a stupid fall? your grandma will kill you if she finds out about it. still rubbing your head you looked around, somehow the tree ended up behind you. its almost like you fell right through it. after your eyes scanned the area they went back to the spot where the mansion of your relatives was standing but .. what was that? right there were the mansion was earlier ... was another house. a house you never saw before in your entire life. this cant be right, something was horribly wrong. hectic you were searching for that picture in the grass, sliding around on your knees not caring if your jeans will get dirty.

as you crawled through the grass your right hand touched something smooth? slowly your head turned forward again, the thing your hand was touching; was a shoe. a black and shiny shoe. your gulping was louder than intended as you slowly looked up. every possible scenario was playing inside your head but not the sight you were met with. above you were a young man, with the brightest smile and in one hand he held the picture you were looking for.

"i think you lost this?"

a bit clumsy you got back to your feet as you took the picture back with a small; thank you. to your relief the picture wasnt damaged, a sigh escaped your mouth as you turned back to the man. after doing that you immediately stumbeled a few steps back. thats not possible. this is a damn dream. seeing your shocked face the man scratched himself on his cheek a bit.

"i-its you.."

your voice cracked as you sunk back into the grass. right in front of you stood the man of the various pictures. the man who leaned against a tree, dead ... the man who left a heartbroken girl behind as he had died.

[quillsandblades]

Shades of Another World

Based on the art by @catyypss

Levi has a way with colors and paints that is unlike anything Hange has ever seen before. The moment he sets up his canvas and arranges his equipment, she knows that he’s just a paintbrush’s stroke away from capturing the whole universe and translating it on his canvas in streaks and splashes of color. 

It’s beautiful to watch, and she feels quite privileged to be able to see him paint. Best friend or not, Levi has always been secretive about his art. He stores his pieces in his workroom, letting only a few of them be seen by anyone (Which kind of makes sense because they’re the reflection of his innermost self). And Hange’s sure that no one in the entire world has ever been allowed to watch Levi Ackerman paint. So it’s only natural to feel absolutely giddy and warm when Levi finally allows her to see him while he worked—but only after years of insistence. 

Hange Zoe marvels at her friend’s command over the shades of the world, the way his slender fingers move the brush, and guide the reds and blues and greens. At first it looks like haphazard colors strewn over the white surface, but then they take shape and arrange themselves, and Hange realizes that each stroke had a meaning, a purpose to the bigger picture, and how the absence of even a single speck would have diminished the final effect. 

She just sits in wonder as Levi leans back on his chair, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth. He has made a horse galloping in a field, with the wide sky spread above. Sunlight plays on its mane and flank, and shadows dance on its body in just the right places. The field is full of flowers, lifting their faces in the gold pouring from the sun above. 

It feels like the painting is breathing. 

She’s sure she can hear the grunts of the horse, and the telltale whistle of the breeze. 

‘You’re amazing Levi,’ she says a little breathlessly, turning to smile widely at him.

He just clicks his tongue and looks away. 

Hange giggles. When will that shorty learn to take a compliment? 

‘You know what?’ Hange leans her elbow on his desk. His eyes narrow suspiciously. ‘You should teach me how to paint this good.’

‘Fuck no,’ Levi glares. ‘I don’t teach. And especially not to morons like you.’ 

‘C’mon Levi,’ she whines. 

‘No. You’ll probably manage to break everything you touch.’

‘Hey! I’m not like that!’ she cries indignantly. ‘And besides, I do know some basics; I just need to get my hands settled on it. I know it’ll never be as good as you, but I want to learn. Pleeeease.’

She stares at him with wide pleading eyes. 

He folds his arms and glares at the window beside him. Hange pokes his shoulder hard with her finger and continues to do that repeatedly when he ignores her. 

‘C’mon you grump, don’t be selfish. Share your talents.’

He grabs her finger and glares at her as she pokes him again. Anyone else would’ve pissed themselves at his menacing expression but Hange just grins.

‘You’ll love it too! I promise it’ll be fun.’ 

He sighs and pushes her away.

‘Fine,’ he grumbles.

‘Yesss!’ She punches the air. 

*****

 

Levi has a shed in his backyard where he has set up his art studio. Next morning, Hange walks into it for the first time ever. It’s as neat as she expected, with paint tubes, canvases, sketch pads and so many other colorful things arranged in neat piles and labeled boxes in shelves. An easel and a comfortable chair are standing right next to the window, and a large work table is set beside it. A fair few of his paintings are hanging from the walls. 

Hange takes off her jacket and hangs it. Levi follows her in and closes the door behind them quietly.

‘So what will we start with?’ Hange exclaims, picking up a brush excitedly, hovering next to the canvas.

‘Not that,’ Levi pulls her by the arm towards the table. When they’re both seated, he passes her a blank sheet, a paintbrush and a tube of paint. ‘First I need to see how good you are at handling a brush. Start.’

Hange looks at him uncertainly, ‘Um, so what exactly should I do?’

‘Anything. I just need to see how you use a paintbrush.’

‘Okay . . .’

She begins with simple shapes and figures and he silently watches her work. In between he sometimes asks her to make something.

‘Your grip seems fine, on the whole,’ he says when she’s finished. ‘But there’s still a lot you need to work on.’

Hange nods eagerly.

Levi then proceeds to explain the basics of using a brush, different types of grips for various strokes, when to apply pressure and so on. Then he observes her as she follows it all and guides her in places she goes wrong. They sit there until the sun dips low in the sky and the shadows stretch out against the ground. By the time Hange gets up to leave, she’s dead tired but happy.

Their routine continues, and each day he takes her one step ahead, explaining the basics of color theory, shading and so much more. Hange finds out that she’s seen Levi talking more than she ever had, in those classes; he seems relaxed, in his element. And Hange likes to think that it’s because he’s sharing his favorite thing, a part of himself, with his closest friend (as she prefers to call herself). And of course the thought makes her pleased beyond measure.

 

 

It’s another one of those days; Levi and Hange are in his studio and outside the summer sun shines in all its glory. She’s working on a technique he showed her, blotting a paper with paint-soaked fingers, trying—and failing—to bring about the proper effect. Levi is sitting by a canvas, painting away. 

Hange drops her head on the table, and regards him over the rim of her glasses; sunlight dips over his face, slanting along his cheekbones. His brows are drawn in concentration, eyes following the constant sweep of his hand over the canvas. 

‘Levi.’

‘Hmm?’

‘What’s your favorite thing to paint?’

‘Are you done with that?’ he points at the sheet in front of her.

‘I can’t get it right, but tell me—’

‘Then finish it up.’

‘Levi,’ she complains. ‘It’s a harmless question, I’m not gonna do anything else until you answer me. What do you like to paint the most?’

He sighs and puts his brush down, then leans back on his chair, contemplating her words. Hange waits in the wake of his silence.

‘The sky,’ he says after a while. 

‘Why?’

‘Can’t you be satisfied with one answer?’ he grits out.

‘Not in my nature, shorty,’ she chuckles.

He picks up his brush and starts working again. She’s about to pester him further when he speaks softly.

‘It just . . . makes me feel free. The sky is unrestrained, limitless. I don’t know but, something about it just draws me in.’

Hange waits, knowing there’s more. She sees his fingers tighten around the brush, knuckles turning white. His next words come out fast and fumbling.

‘Every time I look up, I feel like I can breathe a little more easily—I'm so damn relieved that there’s—that there’s actually an open sky up there rather than—’

The brush slips from his finger as he stops short, eyes wide and staring into space.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ Hange gets up, rushing over to him. Levi blinks rapidly, shaking himself out of whatever is going on in his head. Hange puts a hand on his shoulder and he turns to her.

‘’M fine,’ he mutters, brushing her off. ‘How’s your progress?’ he gets up. 

‘I can’t get it right!’ Hange grouches. ‘Why do I need to paint with fingers in the first place?’

‘It’s important for some pieces. It also helps to bring out a texture that a brush can’t manage at times,’ he explains patiently. 

He dips his finger in some paint and shows her once more how to do it. They sit side by side and work on the sheet, and Levi corrects her wherever she goes wrong. But Hange has to admit that it's a boring practice and she’s seriously lacking some entertainment. So when Levi is focused on the sheet in front of them, she stealthily scoops up some red paint and smears it right on his cheek.

He freezes. 

Hange knows she has a literal second before he’s after her; she jumps out of her seat with a shriek before he can snatch her arm and bounds to the other side of the room. 

‘You. Are. So. Dead,’ he promises darkly and chases after her in a flash.

Hange sprints around the table, cackling like a madwoman, with Levi on the tail. In her chaotic scuffle she grabs onto the rest of that paint and as he gains on her, she splashes it squarely at him. With Levi dripping in red, Hange knows she’ll be dead for sure if he catches her now. She pelts out of the shed and into his backyard. Her howls of laughter echo in the silent afternoon and they both run in circles around the garden like some frisky children. 

When he almost catches her, she turns around abruptly and jumps on him, taking him by surprise as they both tumble to the ground. He’s pinned beneath her and scowling through the mess on his face. 

Everything is silent around them save for the chitter-chatter of birds and Hange’s giggles. Summer seems to be pouring on them lazily and she can see how his face shines in the warmth of the sun. She’s left him quite disheveled; he’s panting slightly; his shirt is stained and streaks of red are sliding down his forehead, cheeks and nose and—

Shrapnel is embedded in his face, blood trailing down his once flawless skin. He lays limp in her arms, dragging down her heart like an anchor to the bottom of the sea. Don’t die, her broken, wounded heart pleads, please don’t die. 

Hange’s laughter tapers off. She stares at him with wide eyes.

‘Oi,’ Levi is frowning, sensing her sudden rigidness. ‘Four-eyes.’

She shivers violently and Levi pushes her off him gently. She sits upon the grass as her head pounds and her vision swims. She sucks in heavy breaths feeling like her lungs are in a chokehold. With a long breath, she pulls herself together and looks around. Levi is nowhere and she’s sitting alone in the yard.

‘Levi!’ she shouts, irrational panic laces her voice. She stumbles to her feet, searching left and right. He was right there with her, where did he go? Where could he have—

‘Relax,’ his steady voice sounds from behind her. She whips around to see him coming out of the house, holding a glass of water in one hand and tissues in the other, with which he’s wiping his now wet and blood—paint-free face clean. Her anxiety diminishes a touch.

He hands her the water and she gulps it down shakily. The cool liquid soothes her throat and calms her jangled nerves. Levi is gazing at her apprehensively and she wants to tell him that she’s okay and it was probably just the heat, but the words are trapped in her throat and nonsensical thoughts are swirling in her head—thoughts that are screaming that he’s gonna slip out of her grasp and die any second if she doesn’t do anything right now because he’s bleeding and dying out in her arms and they’re surrounded and there’s no way out. 

‘Hange,’ she feels a cool hand on her arm, her gaze catches his, steel-blue irises watch her intensely. 

She raises her trembling fingers and softly brushes them against his cheek, pale and smooth, not cut up and bleeding. He’s still under her touch, his eyes searching. She lets her gaze flit across his features, trying to release her throat from that chokehold.

‘You’re not . . . hurt?’ her whisper is small.

He frowns and seizes her hand, squeezing her fingers firmly, ‘No four-eyes. I’m fine.’

‘But you were,’ she murmurs feverishly. ‘And I . . . I couldn’t—’ 

She drops her forehead on his shoulder and shudders ‘Don’t do anything so reckless again.’

She doesn’t know how long they stand there like that, but Levi doesn’t move and she just breathes. Maybe he thinks she’s finally gone mad, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push her off. In truth, she can’t understand a thing herself, or the words she’s saying, but she knows that something made her feel like she was losing Levi. And the thought was terrifying. 

‘Let’s go inside, I’ll make lunch,’ he sounds indifferent as ever, but she can detect hints of worry in his voice. She presses his hand.

‘Okay.’

*****

Levi eventually gives her the spare keys so she can come to his studio and practice whenever she feels like. It’s helpful, because now she has pretty much mastered most of the things he taught her over the months and she sometimes feels the sudden urge to paint something that pops in her head, and rushes to his shed right that instant if she can. She’s still not perfect, and there are many things she struggles with, but she likes her progress.  

‘Leviii,’ Hange drawls, slumped over the chair by the window, pouting at her canvas. 

‘I can’t draw the sea foam.’

He sighs from the other end of the room where he’s arranging his new supplies, ‘Have you learnt nothing all these months?’ 

‘But it’s difficult. I can try but there’s only a sixty percent chance that I’ll get it right and I don’t wanna ruin this canvas.’

Previously she made two paintings on a canvas, only because she was confident that she’d get them right, and she’d practiced on a rough paper beforehand. One was a sunset, and the other was a sea port. Both of them are now hanging on the walls. The one she’s currently working on is of a raging sea and so far everything’s going good except for that damned sea foam. 

Levi approaches her, observing her work critically. She extends the paintbrush towards him and grins, ‘You’ll do it for me, right?’

‘No.’

‘But it’s just one tiny detail, nothing will happen if you help me out shorty!’

‘I’ll help out all right, but I won’t do it for you,’ he grumbles. 

And before she can protest, he moves at the back of her chair and clutches her hand from behind, leading it to the blue and gray strokes she has made. He positions her fingers in the right way, ‘You do it like this,’ he says softly. His breath tickles her neck and she suppresses a shiver. He’s close. Very close. 

He moves the brush lightly over the canvas and she sees the sea foam manifest before her eyes effortlessly. He guides her hand over the rest of the painting in the same way. His grip is warm and steady, whereas her own hands are trembling slightly. Hange is not averse to physical contact, especially with her friends. But Levi has never before initiated it first, and she tells herself that it’s the sole reason she feels shaken right now. 

‘You get it?’ his low voice spills over her ear. 

‘Y—yes,’ she manages, feeling breathless for reasons beyond her. 

‘Good,’ he pulls away slowly and she exhales. ‘Don’t mess it up again.’

She’s sure she wouldn’t. Not when the phantom touch of his fingers is still burning on her hand.

Hange wakes up to the morning light with a start, gasping for air. Her heart is racing in her chest and cold sweat slicks her face. She looks around and realizes that she’s at home, at her desk where she fell asleep last night. Files and documents are jumbled around her, and her muscles are sore from sleeping in an awkward position. She checks her phone; it’s eight in the morning and Sunday. 

She runs a hand over her eyes. There’s an odd restlessness in her heart, and she knows it’s got something to do with her dream. Its memory is hauntingly fresh in her mind, so much so that she can even feel all those sensations. Suddenly the room is too hot and stifling. She gets up, grabs her jacket and the spare keys Levi entrusted to her and rushes out.

His shed is empty at this hour, and she knows he won’t be surprised to see her when he’ll come in as he’s already used to finding her cooped up in there at odd hours. 

She grabs a palette, paints, brushes and fixes a suitable canvas on an easel. Then she perches on that chair beside the window and starts to work. Colors merge and dance over the blank surface, filling it with life. She works with focus this time, and yet her hands shake, but not due to nervousness. Maybe it’s anticipation, because surprisingly Hange doesn’t know herself what this will lead to. Her muscles seem to be obeying that hazy, murky part of her brain that’s ruled by the incoherent; the part that perhaps knows and remembers the dream she had today, much more vividly than her. 

Red, blue, yellow, gray. There’s a story in every stroke. She’s waiting. Waiting for it all to come together and assemble, and finally give her the answer she craves. Outside, the sun climbs higher and the day gets steadily brighter. Light streams in, shining curiously upon her as she works, unaware of the world.

When she finally concludes her painting with a last shade of swirling orange, she freezes. Everything is silent around her, sunbeams dip into the room, her heartbeats are loud in her ears. 

In her painting is a port, and giant skeletal creatures wrapped in raw muscles are marching over everything. She’s high up in the sky, zipping towards them in rage. Burning. Below, in the shadow of it all, small figures of people are rushing around a plane. 

Hange drops her brush and stares at the scene before her. She’s not sure why she made this, or what compelled her mind to come up with an image like that. She wants to brush it off as a spur-of-the-moment inspiration, but the fact remains that she wasn’t even aware of what she was drawing half the time. The image made itself. And then there’s this suffocating ache in her chest that she can’t define, it’s squeezing her in an iron grip. She leans back and throws an arm over her face, breathing deeply. 

The fire licks at her body and screams rip her throat. Pain beyond measure stabs her all over but she has to move forward, she has to finish them off, has to buy them time, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much she wants to live. She must sacrifice herself. 

The door opens. 

‘What’re you doing this time?’ Levi’s voice pulls her out of the drifting currents of her mind.

She looks up at him with tired eyes. How long had she been sitting there, working nonstop?

‘What’ve you made?’ he comes over to her, leaning over to look at her work. Hange watches him closely.

She hears his breath hitch, sees his eyes widen and expression morph into something unguarded and open. He gazes at the scene for a long moment without saying anything. Then he raises his hand and touches the painting, the part where she is drawn in an odd suit, wielding swords and engulfed in flames. The painting’s still wet and the reddish orange color of the fire stains his fingers. 

‘You . . .’ he looks back at her, and this time Hange can see something more in his expression: pain. ‘Why did you make this?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘It felt like my hands had a mind of their own. I couldn’t stop.’

He straightens and lets out a heavy breath. His eyes are weighed. He grabs her hand and leads her to a door at the corner of the shed that Levi never let her open before. They enter a small room which is full of paintings of different sizes—Levi’s art, she realizes. At one side, some of them are covered with a large white sheet. He yanks it away to reveal more pieces, only these are different from the others. 

As soon as Hange looks at them, the same restlessness she felt today crashes back into her heart. There’s something achingly familiar about those pictures. They show green fields, stables and dark, stone castles. They show people sitting around fires, but their faces are hazy, as if the moments were captured from wispy dreams. She does recognize some people though: a blur of color that resembles Levi, a similar one that could be her. She even spots Erwin’s indistinct form among many others. Then there are paintings with giant distorted creatures and people zipping through the sky.

She turns to Levi, ‘What is this?’ her voice begs for answers.    

‘I don’t know,’ he mirrors her words from earlier. 

It’s something for sure, they both feel it and she knows it’s important in some way. 

Levi seizes her arm suddenly; his brows are furrowed and his fingers are digging into her skin. 

‘You’re . . . here? Right?’ and the helpless look he gives her just confirms that he’s feeling exactly as she did that day when she splattered paint over him. He needs to know that she’s okay, and he’s not going to lose her. He needs her to destroy the images in his head that are probably playing a twisted scene of her death.  

Hange laces her fingers with his and presses reassuringly, ‘I’m right here shorty. And I’m not going anywhere,’ she promises. 

He nods, but maintains the death grip on her hand. They both walk out of his shed and Hange pushes all those tangled thoughts to the back of her mind. She’ll think about it later, talk to Levi and make something of this. But for now she has to assure him that she’s with him and they’re fine. They’re okay and they’re together and they’re alive.

And there’s nothing more she can ask for. 

[asteroid-duck]

Happy 3rd RtN Anniversary! @aerugonian

[ohitslen]

God’s #1 anti Vash the Stampede!

Just to be clear this is for my upcoming reincarnation fic 🫡

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2.1k | cw: major character death (temporary, as in reincarnation) | tags: soulmates, starcrossed lovers, reincarnation | summary: In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What's a lifetime if you measure it in eternity? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is a fire that never goes out | AO3)

1

Troy, 13th century BCE

Achilles often marveled at the serenity of the sea at night. His mother is tempestuous by nature, unpredictable and untamed, and most days the sea reflects her nature. But not tonight. Tonight the waves are shallow, a gentle rocking of their ships that had lulled Patroclus to sleep in his arms.

The lone candle on his bedside bathes the room in a warm orange glow, casting shadows across the naked skin of his lover. He can see his marks on the alabaster skin, pale as the moon to Achilles' sun-kissed skin.

Many people have said that they are a study in contradictions, one the perfect antithesis of the other. They're not entirely wrong, but they miss the point. The most important fact of all.

Patroclus is the other half of his soul, and they only make sense together.

The war rages on, and deep down Achilles knows he can't sit this one out forever. Everyone thinks he refuses to fight out of spite, a bruised ego and a prideful, stubborn nature, much like his mother's, that keeps him away from the front lines.

Sure, it feeds his ego to know they're losing without his sword, but it's not pride that keeps him from joining the Greeks in this senseless war.

It's fear.

He's not afraid for himself, never has been. Achilles is a hero, he's destined to die at the hands of another. It's a cold comfort, this knowledge of the path that awaits him: Glory, honor, death.

It's what will make him a god one day.

No one ever asked him if he wanted that. No one but Patroclus, half his soul, all his life. Being a god, worshipped and admired by the masses, pales in comparison to the feeling of dark brown eyes looking at him with nothing but love and devotion. They don't see a half god, Achilles knows that.

They see the lonely boy who only ever wanted someone to see him and love him for that. For what he is, not for what the prophecies say he will be.

Tomorrow he will take up his armor again. Not to win a war for a man blinded by pride and greed and stupidity.

For the man whose love burns as warm and bright as the fire on Mount Olympus, and only for him.

2

England, 15th century

Public executions are Stephanos' least favorite of his princely duties.

He hates to see men and women die by his father's hand, no matter who ties the knot or sets the stake on fire. It might as well be his father's hand swinging the axe. The only thing he hates more is the cheering of the crowd, the spectacle. How they enjoy the suffering, the death, being played out before them. They're probably glad it's not them, but that's no excuse in his eyes.

Stephanos vows that when he becomes king, he will be a more just ruler.

It hasn't always been this way with him. When he was a young boy, he wanted to be like his father. There had never been any question in his mind that the people who were executed for public entertainment deserved their fate. They had it coming, bad people needed to be punished.

Edmund showed him that wasn't true.

Disguised as a commoner, he had taken Stephanos out of the castle and into town. He had shown him how the people of the kingdom really lived, and who the villains really were: his father's men, who tormented and abused and exploited the people they were supposed to protect and serve.

Edmund, who had lost his parents to King Richard's cruelty and still retained his kindness and warmth, and who had shown Stephanos what true love really meant.

Love for his people, who deserved a king who would rule them justly and kindly.

Love for the friends he made along the way, as Edmund taught him about the suffering that was happening right under his nose.

Love for another man, a man who found it in himself to love the son of the murderer of his parents.

It's the only thing that keeps him upright when he's forced to watch his love burn at the stake for having bewitched the young prince. Witchcraft, the only acceptable explanation for what they had caught Stephanos and Edmund doing in Stephanos' chambers.

As the flames die down, long after the painful screams of the only man, the only person, Stephanos has ever loved, the fire within him burns brighter than ever. He vows to avenge his lover and honor his memory by being a ruler Edmund would be proud to call his king.

3

Normandy, 1944

"God, they tell you about the bullets and the bombs, the blood and the death, sure. But they never talk about the rain and the cold and the bloody mud, do they?" Stephen knows it's a rhetorical question because Edward loves to ask them.

"Ever wonder if our commanding officer has a map, or does he just like sending us on scenic tours of enemy territory?”

" Wonder if the rats in the trenches have formed a union yet. Bet they're negotiating better living conditions than we are.".

"Do you reckon the General's war strategy involves a magic eight ball? I mean, that would explain a lot."

At first it had pissed him off. It was bad enough that they had to fight alongside a British battalion with soldiers who talked funny and were trained in ways Stephen didn't really understand. Most of what they did didn't make sense to him and he just wanted them all to fuck off back to where they came from. Maybe take some Germans out on the way, because even in his irritation he could admit that they could use all the help they could get.

That didn't mean he had to like the hand attached to that help.

It's just that during the last two months they've been hunkered down somewhere in the north of France, with rain pouring down almost constantly, he's gone and fallen in love with an Englishman.

How embarrassing.

Even the accent kind of does it for him now, all thanks to Edward ("Would you just call me Eddie for Christ's sake, you literally saved my ass.") and his charming, if slightly odd, ways. He was infuriating, but kind and funny, always trying to cheer everyone up even when he was barely holding it together. Eddie made him laugh and blush and curse up a storm and roll his eyes fondly and cry exhausted tears into his surprisingly strong shoulders.

Eddie makes him feel alive. He makes Stephen want to be alive, too.

Most of all, he wants Eddie to be alive.

The gaping bullet wound in his chest tells Stephen that he may not get what he wants.

Eddie's hand in his is wet from the rain and too cold, as if the life has already begun to seep out of his limbs and with it all his warmth. Which is ridiculous, because no one burns as warm and bright as Eddie, even on the darkest days he would be their beacon of light. A roaring fire of life and love and hope.

A fire that couldn't be put out just like that. They needed him, all those young soldiers, barely 18, if that, who looked up to Eddie and worshipped the ground he walked on. Who would look out for them now? Who would keep their spirits up, their will to fight and live?

Stephen couldn't do it, not without Eddie.

"I can't do it without you, Eddie." He is not ashamed of the way his voice breaks as he holds the love he has just found in his arms, only to lose it again.

Eddie's eyes are warm and soft as they gaze into his, even with the pain clearly visible in them. "Yes, you can, sweetheart. They need you."

"I need you," Stephen sobs, his tears mixing with the rain that falls on a face he knows will one day be a fading memory. The thought hurts. It fucking hurts.

With the last of his strength, Eddie squeezes his hand. "You have me, Stevie. You'll always have me. My love will keep you warm long after my body has grown cold, I promise. I'll always be with you, in every life to come."

4

Hawkins, 1987

"Hey Eddie, it's me. Steve." Rubbing his hands over his face, Steve sighs, a sound as tired as he feels. "God, this is so stupid. You barely knew me. I barely knew you. I shouldn't be sitting here mourning you like we were anything more than two strangers thrown together in this fucking mess. Not that you don't deserve to be mourned, man. It makes me so fucking angry how they still refuse to see who you really were. A hero. A friend."

It's cold where Steve sits on the ground in front of a slab of stone that reads "Edward Munson".

"It's just... I don't understand why it hurts so much. It feels like, fuck, like there's a fist in my chest, in my stomach, squeezing so hard I can barely breathe some days. We all miss you. Not just the kids, although it hit Dustin the hardest. He's not the same and I don't know how to help him. Christ, I can't even help myself. I sleep with your vest under my bed, right next to my bat, how crazy is that? Most nights I can only sleep for a few hours if I touch it."

He runs his hand through his hair and grips it tightly, as if the pain helps make sense of everything he's feeling.

"You'd probably call me crazy, a fucking nutcase. Or maybe not. I don't know you well enough to say for sure, but I feel like maybe you wouldn't judge me too harshly. What I'm trying to say is this: I feel like when you died I lost something I didn't even know I had. Like, ugh, I dunno, I'm not good at this, you should have seen my college essay, Nancy told me it didn't make any sense. But it's like your death should be the period at the end of our story, right? The sentence is over, the story is told. Only it feels like it's just a semicolon and part of the story is still coming. That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Sighing again, this time because he's annoyed at himself for not finding the right words to explain himself, he climbs to his feet and slaps his hand on the cold stone.

"Right. Sorry for disturbing your rest. You deserve some rest, Eddie. Thank you for saving us. For saving Dustin. And for, y'know, saying those things in the woods. I never told you that, but it still means a lot to me."

The you still mean a lot to me swings in the space between the living and the dead, the thread that holds both worlds together.

5

Chicago, 2023

Steve knows they should go inside. They're too old to sleep out on the cold, hard ground, even if the night air is mild at this time of year. Steve and Eddie aren't 20 anymore, they're twice that age, and he knows they're going to regret not sleeping in a real bed in the morning.

"We should go inside, it's getting late," he says to Eddie, but his husband just hums where he's nestled into Steve's side, his cheek on Steve's chest. Right over his heart, where he's carved out his own space in the two decades they've been together.

"Just a little while longer, love. I don't want to miss it."

Eddie sounds wide awake, as excited to be lying in the garden outside their little house on the outskirts of town as he is about anything else in their lives. It's one of the most endearing things about him. Every day with him is a new adventure, even if it's Sunday morning reruns of Friends.

"Miss what, babe?"

"The shooting stars. Didn't you listen to Dustin when he said there was a meteor shower tonight?"

Steve chuckled. Of course his little brother would know such things. He has to admit that he didn't listen to his ramblings when he stopped by for lunch, too distracted by the way the autumn sun had cast shadows on Eddie's face. Not that he'd say it out loud.

"Mhhh. Must have slipped my mind. So, what do we wish for?" It comes out more earnest than he intended, his teasing feeling oddly displaced in the face of the pure love and adoration on Eddie's face as he leans up on his elbow to look down at Steve.

"For another lifetime with you. What more would I want than more of what we already have, preferably an eternity of it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees the first shooting star streaking across the night sky, and as he pulls Eddie down for a kiss, he wishes for just that.

[thisisallthehattersfault]

The Sunshine Man has been with Luffy for as long as he can remember. So long, in fact, that Luffy has never thought to question where he came from, or where he goes when he’s gone. He is a fact of Luffy’s world, like the bugs that scuttle in the grass around Party’s Bar and the scent of salt off the ocean. As certain as the sun, there is The Sunshine Man.

He’s there when Luffy has bad dreams, singing without words or a voice to shape them, his fingers that aren’t fingers brushing through Luffy’s hair until the top of his head feels sun-warmed and he’s slipped back into sleep. He’s there when Luffy tumbles into the thorn bushes near Woop Slap’s house and gets covered in prickles, and he’s there when Luffy gets pinched really hard by a crab at the beach. He’s there when Makino has to work and Luffy can’t be in the bar and old Mrs. Kingston promised she’d watch him but she falls asleep on the couch and leaves Luffy all alone again like she always does. He’s there when Luffy can’t make friends and when his Gramps only spends three days in Foosha before leaving again (and when he spends all those days dragging Luffy up to the edge of the woods to make him fight Monkeys and then yelling at him when he loses).

When Luffy curls up in the back of the closet and buries his face in his knees and wonders if he disappeared how long it would take anyone to even notice, when Luffy cries and cries and can’t breathe and wants somebody to come hold him but Makino is busy and nobody else even cares and --

When Luffy needs him, The Sunshine Man is there. He doesn’t do much, really. He can’t talk to Luffy, because he doesn’t have a mouth, and he can’t give Luffy hugs, because he doesn’t have arms. But he is there and he loves Luffy like dawn loves the sleeping, and anyway it wouldn’t be fair to hold any of that stuff against him. He isn’t a real man, he is a man made of sunshine, and he keeps Luffy warm and chases away the shadows at night and is always there when Luffy feels like loneliness is a weight pressing down on his chest. Luffy loves The Sunshine Man with all his heart!

He tells him this sometimes, even though he knows The Sunshine Man already knows, because he likes to hear The Sunshine Man laugh. It isn’t a noise, and it doesn’t really come from The Sunshine Man. It’s like the whole world laughs for a minute, the sky bright and the waves frothing and the ground under Luffy’s feet bouncing-soft, trees reaching their branches down to cloak him in cool shade. The wind will tug playfully through Luffy’s hair, even if it was blowing the other way a second ago, and Luffy will laugh right along.

Luffy talks to Makino about The Sunshine Man sometimes. When she asks how he slept, he’ll tell her if The Sunshine Man came to sing to him. When she asks what he did that day, he’ll say The Sunshine Man came to walk along the beach with him, and helped him look for seashells. Makino says The Sunshine Man is Luffy’s imaginary friend, and Luffy figures that must be right. The Sunshine Man is not a real man, he is a man made of sunlight, and he lives inside Luffy’s mind. If Makino says that makes him imaginary, then she probably knows what she’s talking about.

When Luffy is six, the Red Hair Pirates come to Foosha. They don’t stay more than a few days before they leave for two weeks, but then they come back again. And again. Luffy likes the Red Hair Pirates. He likes Lucky Roux, who is always grinning and never shares his food but pretends he doesn’t notice when Luffy steals bites off his plate. He likes Yasopp, who tells him stories — mostly about his son Usopp, who’s about Luffy’s age. He likes Bonk Punch and Monster and the music they make.

He likes Shanks, even though Shanks picks on him all the time. He’s so cool, and he tells the best stories and he’s a real life pirate captain and Luffy is gonna be just like him when he grows up!

The Sunshine Man likes Shanks, too, Luffy thinks. It’s kind of hard to tell. The Sunshine Man doesn’t seem to really notice people most of the time, and when he does, it makes him really tired. Luffy knows The Sunshine Man likes Makino because one time when Luffy was really little a friend of hers went to sleep in the ground (died, but Luffy didn’t understand that at the time) and Makino was sad and tired for weeks, and The Sunshine Man went to sing to her one night the way he sang to Luffy.

She couldn’t hear him, because The Sunshine Man isn’t a real man, and he lives in Luffy’s mind, but The Sunshine Man sang without a voice or mouth, and he ran his fingers that aren’t fingers through Makino’s hair until the top of her head felt sun-warmed and she slipped back into sleep.

The Sunshine Man went away for a while after that, all curled up small in the back of Luffy’s mind like a little seed, but Makino was much happier the next morning, and The Sunshine Man came back after he’d gotten enough rest anyway.

The Sunshine Man doesn’t sing for Shanks or any of the other pirates, but he does pay attention to them like he doesn’t pay attention to anyone else. Luffy always knows the Red Force is coming into port hours before the ship can be spotted on the horizon, because The Sunshine Man can feel them coming. Luffy would go and see them anyway, but it’s fun, how The Sunshine Man flickers and glows in the back of his mind, urging him to run faster, faster.

Then comes the fruit.

Luffy can feel it coming closer, because The Sunshine Man can feel it coming closer. It starts as a restlessness in the middle of the night that has Luffy running in circles around his bedroom because he can’t sleep, and then by morning Luffy’s so excited his stomach is clenching. The Red Hair Pirates don’t even come into port until the next day, but Luffy spends that whole day and the following morning squirming with impatience and he doesn’t even really know why.

Shanks is bringing him something wonderful. Something that belongs to Luffy, and Luffy alone. It’s kind of a gift! Sort of. It’s not a gift from Shanks, because Shanks doesn’t know he’s bringing it to Luffy. It’s almost a gift from The Sunshine Man, sort of? But actually it already belongs to Luffy, so it can’t be a gift at all…

Luffy doesn’t understand, and The Sunshine Man can’t explain it because he can’t talk, but he doesn’t care because something amazing is coming Luffy’s way and he can’t wait!

When the Red Force does finally dock at Dawn Island, The Sunshine Man takes Luffy’s hand in his, and guides him through and around the crowd of pirates to a chest, and inside the chest is a round, dark fruit. It’s skin is the color of the sky right before dawn starts, blue-purple and hiding gold in the swirls. It gives under Luffy’s teeth like an apple, a crisp snap. It tastes...

Later, Luffy won’t remember what it tasted like. He’ll tell people it was gross, because Devil Fruit are yucky and so his Devil Fruit must have tasted yucky, and he won’t think about it any deeper than that.

In the moment, Luffy swallows bite after greedy, starving bite, and his mouth is full of citrus, tart and sweet. It tastes like oranges and star fruit and kiwi, and it drips juice down his chin and forearms that he chases with his mouth. There’s something almost savory to it, under the sweet and tart. Something rich and… coppery. The juice puddles on the floor, red and dark. The last few bites are warm and tender and pulsing under Luffy’s teeth.

Luffy forgets all about The Sunshine Man, after that.

[lyaswriting]

A Second Chance

Childe x Female!God!reader Reincarnation AU

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, no beta we die like Rex Lapis

„I will return to you. Pinky promise.“

The whispered promise still lingered in her mind, where it had been for centuries, as Y/N walked through the park outside of a changed Mondstadt, quickly looking before crossing the street so she wouldn‘t be hit by a car, while taking a sip from her coffee. So she entered the park, that looked like it was a bit of a window into a past she sometimes barely remembered for how long it had been. Yet here she could still sometimes sit down and remember, occasionally still having to defend from a few slimes or other elemental beings, but to Y/N it was worth it, if only for the memories. Y/N had watched, as the times had changed after the fall of Celestia, after visions were no longer necessary to control elemental powers and after humanity decided to take matters into their own hands. She had watched as civilizations had risen and fallen, as people had embarked on journeys greater than they could imagine, as lovers had found their way back to each other, proving themselves that true love does exist.

And yet, Y/N thought, mine is the exception. As her lover had never returned, even though he promised. But he had tried, oh how he had fought to come back to her, but in the end it hadn‘t been enough.

And so, to make peace with the past or to not forget it, she didn‘t really know, she began writing down the stories, and adventures she had seen and lived. And she had written many about her once friends, as she felt each of their stories deserved to be told. And yet, as if to mock her once more, none sold better than the Story about the True Love between the Harbinger and the Goddess of Dreams. Although people often complained about the story having such a grim ending. But that was the harsh truth, that some stories did not have a happy ending.

If she listened into herself she could still remember their first meeting as if it had been merely days ago. She had just awoken from a slumber the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles had put her under, so she had decided to join Aether, the brave outlander, in his cause and traveled the world. That was when she had met the ginger haired Harbinger in Liyue, before the Rite of Descension.

In the Guili Plains she had fought some vishaps that had attacked her, she remembered, and was close to winning the fight, growing confident in her powers, as someone jumped into the middle of the fight, flashing two identical hydro blades, and before she knew it, the vishaps lay dead before them.

„Excuse me, but I had that under control!“, Y/N told the young man a bit rudely, who in return only put away the blades, and turned around slowly, grinning.

„Is that so?“, he said, looking her over before looking at her mildly enraged face.

„Yes. I was testing my fighting abilities, not to mention cutting in, jumping in without asking if I need help is rude.“

„I‘m sorry then. I can see now that you are perfectly capable of handling yourself. Maybe I can take you out to dinner, as an apology?“, he offered, while trying to look guilty, and failing.

„Do you always ask out women this way? Try to charm them after saving their lives?“

„So you do admit I saved your life?“, and he‘d smirked, oh that smirk.

„I did not mean it that way.“

„Of course you didn‘t“

„You didn‘t even tell me your name yet“, she bit back then, which he countered„And you didn‘t give me an answer“

„Fine, if you insist.“

„Perfect, I‘m Ajax by the way.“, he said, a dashing smile on his face, and equally smiling she answered,„Y/N“.

A little smile snuck onto her face, before it faded and she remembered how the whole story had ended. It had been centuries, and yet her heart had not healed. Some people you love so much that they leave a mark behind when they go, Zhongli had once said after the Battle against Celestia, familiar of the pain Y/N felt. And sometimes, he had said, they refuse to leave either, returning one way or another. But that was only wishful thinking, she knew, as she looked down at her hands, still almost seeing the blood that had stained them so long ago.

She‘d found the Harbinger after the battle, but instead of being fine like he promised, there was a gaping wound in his stomach, leaking blood just like the dozens of cuts on his body. His eyes had lighted up at seeing her, even if his smile was more melancholic as she kneeled next to him.

„Hey girlie.“

„What… you‘ll be fine. We‘ll get you to Barbara or Baizhu. You‘ll be fine.“

At that, he raised a hand to cup her cheek, making her look at him.

„Girlie, it‘s too late. Even if you…“, he coughed at this moment, she remembered, and he‘d coughed up blood, „even if they come… I used Foul Legacy for too long… my life is spent.“

„No, no, no… This cannot be. There has to be a way, I‘m a goddess, that has to count for something… I can figure something out, I just need time…“, Tears streamed down her face at this point violently shaking her, as she felt his breathing slow down, his voice raspy, „I wish we‘d have that time. But you, Y/N, were the best thing I could have hoped for. You were my dream.“

„Please don‘t leave me, I can‘t… I can‘t…“

„I will return to you. Pinky promise.“

Those had been the last words the Harbinger had ever said. And since then, every year she had returned to the park, to the same tree he had leaned against in his final moments, as if it could somehow make her feel closer to him.

That was when she heard it in the distance by the lake, fighting noices near the lake.

„If it is those damn hydro slimes again, I swear…“, she muttered under her breath, as she ran to the lake, already summoning her powers in her hand, throwing it at the slimes as soon as she saw them, apparently much to the dismay of their opponent.

„And here I thought I‘d get a little practice, but I guess not…“, the guy muttered.

That voice, that voice she had heard in her own dreams for a few hundred years now. It couldn‘t be, could it?

Y/N turned around, her heart beating so fast she would be scared if she weren‘t a goddess. And there he stood, as if he had never been gone, ginger hair tousled from the fight, hydro blades still in his hands.

„Anything particular you are staring at? Wanna spar perhaps after you destroyed my guinea pigs?“

He still had a playful tone, she noticed, but one look told her, that he didn‘t know who she was. Her heart sank a bit, before she caught herself, nearly laughing at the irony of their meeting.

„I… I‘m sorry, that was rude. I just thought someone might need help again and then I jumped in, completely disregarding your apparent dislike for help… I‘m sorry.“

„Apology accepted.“

„Even though, with those blades you wouldn‘t have gotten far against them, you know that right? Hydro vs Hydro and all.“

„Opinion noted.“

She laughed at that, an idea forming in her head.

„Opinion? You‘re welcome. But if you insist, may I take you out on dinner, to make it up?“

He studied her then, something seemingly pulling him in.

„I‘m sorry, I didn‘t get your name, did I? I‘m Ajax.“, and with that he stretched out his hand to her, which she shook, and smiled.

„I‘m Y/N“.

Ajax paused for a second, a feeling gnawing at him, as if he should remember something he doesn‘t, it was easy to read for Y/N, after all she had known him once before.

„Have we met once before?“, he asked, staring at her curiously.

„We kind of did. But I think you wouldn‘t believe me if I told you, it‘s apparently kind of a neverending story…“, she answered truthfully, looking into his blue eyes, full of life this time, and more mesmerizing than ever.

„Try me“, he said then, „maybe at that dinner you offered?“

And he smirked, oh that smirk.

And Y/N smiled too.

Maybe Zhongli had been right, that some people are bound to each other, and maybe Ajax had kept his promise too, he had found a way to return to Y/N.